Chapter Two
THE PREFECTS' PARTY
Ever known one of those people who just tingle every last one of your nerves?
"DRACO MALFOY GET YOUR BLOODY, SON-OF-A-BITCH ARSE OUT OF MY ROOM!"
"No, I don't think I will, thanks."
"WELL WHY NOT?"
"I wanted to go over a few guidelines with you, that's all."
"Guidelines?"
"Yes, Granger, guidelines. Rules. Regulations."
"For what, may I ask?"
Malfoy hauled himself onto my bed, studied its gold and crimson linen for a moment before continuing on.
"We're going to be spending ten months sharing a common room together."
"I'm aware."
"I'd like to keep these ten months hex-free -"
"Bet you wouldn't."
"- which means you're going to have to bide by strict rules, Granger. You know, watch yourself. One toe out of line, and you might just find yourself on the floor of this common room, in a full body-bind."
He grinned for a moment, obviously savoring the moment: my face looked very ugly indeed.
"Ah. Yes. Where was I?"
"Guidelines? Rules? Regulations?"
"Ah. Yes. You must not set foot in my bedroom - "
"I'll do my best to fight the urge - "
"- and if you do, you're facing some serious penalties."
"I'll be sure to watch myself, then."
"Right you are."
I really think that's all you need to get the picture. I'm not particularly excited to investigate what life will be like with Draco Malfoy during the next semester. Though it will be somewhat intriguing to observe the life habits of a Slytherin, I'm still not overjoyed that that Slytherin had to be Draco Malfoy. Oh, well. I guess all the better reason to see if something positive can come out of all this. Though I expect not.
I was making my way through the corridors, free, free from the common room until 8:00. I had pretty much the entire day ahead of me to enjoy. I wasn't going to let Malfoy ruin my precious time without him. And now, on my free time, my Hermione time, my Harry and Ron time, I was not going to include Draco Malfoy!
It was very easy to keep my mind off of him as I spent the day with my best friends. Harry and Ron dragged me to the Quidditch Pitch where they spent the day knocking each other off their brooms, whilst I stood in the bleachers, cheering them on. I noticed that Ron's defense had improved a lot over the summer: Harry made about one fourth of the goals he sent flying in within an hour out on the pitch. We remained out there for what seemed like ages, and they mustered every ounce of energy they could to play for one more round, after the sun began to set behind the trees.
I remained a third wheel as we walked back to the castle, and decided not to barge in on their conversations of The World Cup.
"I expect the Wasps are going to be playing this year,"
"Are you CRAZY?! The Wasps have such a weak defense: they've lost four out of five games this year!"
"Yeah, well, they make a better team than The Chudley Cannons - "
"Uh, guys...?"
But I would have lost it if I was forced to be thrust into another round of conversation where I didn't understand half of the words they were saying. This wasn't a situation I was used to, mind you.
"I think I'll meet you guys in the Great Hall. I've got to get ready for the Prefect party," I started back towards the castle.
"Right, 'bye, then, I guess," Harry called after me, to which I replied with a wave.
Somehow, the castle had a sort of dismal glow to it - whatever was left of the sun, bestowed itself upon the Whomping Willow, that, if had not been murderous, would have been gorgeous.
Ah, yes, the Prefects' Party. It's actually for the Heads too, but I don't like to refer to myself and Draco Malfoy as one item; rather, "Myself and Draco Malfoy" than "the Heads." Why? Because it wasn't something I was used to, nor something I wanted to get used to. And besides, it was true: it was for the Prefects, too.
By the time I had reached the common room, it was empty and dark. I fumbled around in my closet until I pulled out something that could pass for 'party wear'. But I wasn't exactly skilled in the concept. As an eighteen-year-old girl, Hermione Granger didn't spend her time partying. She spent it in the library. Or studying.
I made my way towards the Great Hall, which echoed with drunken yells and loud music by the time I had arrived. I had to shove past a stumbling Malfoy, carrying a six-pack of butterbeer (the man had a lot of determination to try and get drunk off of the stuff) until I found my way to Harry and Ron. They, too, seemed to be acting a little off.
"Hey Harry, Hey Ron," I said, and something at the corner of Ron's mouth caught my eye: drool.
"Oh Hey, Her-min-on-ne!"
"Um, yes, hello Ron – I - well, you know guys, I think I'm gonna, you know, see if I can find Ginny..."
I really just wanted to get away from them. Something about drunken people bothered me. I thought Harry and Ron had the sense to at least ACT sober around me.
"OK, Herm-inny, we're gonna go get some of that stuff..."
And they headed off together in a simultaneous, dangerously swaying stride towards the table with the butterbeer.
But I paid no attention and tried to find someone in the room I could invest in intellectual conversation with: someone sober, at least.
I eventually did find my way to Ginny.
"I couldn't find a date for this party," she said heavily.
I nodded.
"Why don't you ask Seamus Finnigan?" I said finally. I knew who she had wanted to come with, and I also happened to know he didn't have a date.
"Really? Do you think he'd accept?"
"I don't know, but even if he says no, at least you'll have asked."
"Good thinking. I'll be right back!"
And she went off in Finnigan's direction.
I stood by the table, waiting patiently for Ginny, when I realized that she wasn't coming back. The pretty Weasley girl in a pink dress caught my eye across the room and smiled nervously; her fingers were laced around the neck of Seamus Finnigan. So, I decided to thrust myself into the crowd, maybe hoping to catch someone's eye by the end of the party: this was particularly difficult for a girl arriving in her school robes. But I was able to steal a few before I got so tired that I left. And at 9:00, too.
In the common room, I spent the next three hours reading. If I had been keeping track of the time, I would have surely limited my reading time. But I immersed myself in a book, and when Hermione Granger is reading, a rampaging hippogriff could hardly get her attention. Therefore, I didn't hear the knocks on the door until the intruder's third attempt, at which they were so forceful they knocked it down.
It was, I should have known, the only person who could possibly access my common room, Dumbledore in exception: Malfoy.
In the initial shock of having my door knocked down, it took me a moment to realize this. But I frowned and glared at him as if I'd known he was coming.
"What was that for?"
He walked in to my bedside and said nothing. I still noticed the stumble in his step before he took a heavy seat on the foot of my bed, and stared at me in a way I would have enjoyed, except for the fact that it came from him.
"What could you possibly find so fascinating?"
He scooted himself up the bed clumsily to the point where his long legs were situated around my body, in a way that made me feel very trapped.
"You."
I tried to squeal out of this position. "What are you doing?! Leave! NOW!"
"You're not going ANYWHERE." He placed his hands firmly down on my shoulders. "Tonight, you're MINE."
"What the hell is wrong with you Malfoy?"
But it didn't take a genius to figure that out: he was drunk. And before I could stop him, he threw himself on me and buried my face into the pillow. His eyes sparkled with pure lust; he was sliding his hands up and down my arms patiently, as if ready to attack any moment.
And then, he kissed me.
But it wasn't sweet or adoring, or anything you'd expect a first kiss to be, in the least. It was hungry, and vicious, and violent. His mouth pressed down upon mine, pinning me to the sheets with his hands.
"Malfoy, please..."
But I was too weak to fend him off. In a deft move, he tore off my nightgown and pressed my body to the bed. His icy hands let themselves wander down from my shoulders – and they sent a chill through my body. There was no use struggling anymore, he was the stronger one, and practically twice my height.
"Hermione..." he said softly.
His hands were now upon my waist – massaging my stomach in a soothing way. I was beginning to cry, in my terrible fear of what he might to do me. My wand, sitting on my bedside table, was just conveniently out of my reach.
And just as I thought the situation was hopeless, a sharp voice sounded from over by the door, or what was left of it anyhow. Though I couldn't see who had entered, I knew who it was, and, for the first time in my life, I was, in a word, grateful, to see Severus Snape at my door.
"Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy! Stop this instant!"
I felt his body stiffen against me.
"Mister Malfoy you are going to come with me now... Miss Granger, are you all right?"
I nodded, but he wasn't to be fooled: my entire body was shaking.
"Miss Granger I will accompany you to the Hospital Wing where you will spend the night. End of discussion." His voice was very cold, but maybe I just didn't interpret it right: I didn't easily recognize concern in Snape's voice, I guess. Or he was very good at hiding it.
He left me to the room where I could dress. I was still in shock, and I had forgotten, in the gratefulness of having been saved, that I had been, of course, naked, in front of my savior. Who happened to be a Hogwarts professor.
But my mind was on other things: I tried not to sound like an idiot, but it was too late: by the time I left my room, I was choking on my sobs in very strange noises all the way to the Hospital Wing.
THE PREFECTS' PARTY
Ever known one of those people who just tingle every last one of your nerves?
"DRACO MALFOY GET YOUR BLOODY, SON-OF-A-BITCH ARSE OUT OF MY ROOM!"
"No, I don't think I will, thanks."
"WELL WHY NOT?"
"I wanted to go over a few guidelines with you, that's all."
"Guidelines?"
"Yes, Granger, guidelines. Rules. Regulations."
"For what, may I ask?"
Malfoy hauled himself onto my bed, studied its gold and crimson linen for a moment before continuing on.
"We're going to be spending ten months sharing a common room together."
"I'm aware."
"I'd like to keep these ten months hex-free -"
"Bet you wouldn't."
"- which means you're going to have to bide by strict rules, Granger. You know, watch yourself. One toe out of line, and you might just find yourself on the floor of this common room, in a full body-bind."
He grinned for a moment, obviously savoring the moment: my face looked very ugly indeed.
"Ah. Yes. Where was I?"
"Guidelines? Rules? Regulations?"
"Ah. Yes. You must not set foot in my bedroom - "
"I'll do my best to fight the urge - "
"- and if you do, you're facing some serious penalties."
"I'll be sure to watch myself, then."
"Right you are."
I really think that's all you need to get the picture. I'm not particularly excited to investigate what life will be like with Draco Malfoy during the next semester. Though it will be somewhat intriguing to observe the life habits of a Slytherin, I'm still not overjoyed that that Slytherin had to be Draco Malfoy. Oh, well. I guess all the better reason to see if something positive can come out of all this. Though I expect not.
I was making my way through the corridors, free, free from the common room until 8:00. I had pretty much the entire day ahead of me to enjoy. I wasn't going to let Malfoy ruin my precious time without him. And now, on my free time, my Hermione time, my Harry and Ron time, I was not going to include Draco Malfoy!
It was very easy to keep my mind off of him as I spent the day with my best friends. Harry and Ron dragged me to the Quidditch Pitch where they spent the day knocking each other off their brooms, whilst I stood in the bleachers, cheering them on. I noticed that Ron's defense had improved a lot over the summer: Harry made about one fourth of the goals he sent flying in within an hour out on the pitch. We remained out there for what seemed like ages, and they mustered every ounce of energy they could to play for one more round, after the sun began to set behind the trees.
I remained a third wheel as we walked back to the castle, and decided not to barge in on their conversations of The World Cup.
"I expect the Wasps are going to be playing this year,"
"Are you CRAZY?! The Wasps have such a weak defense: they've lost four out of five games this year!"
"Yeah, well, they make a better team than The Chudley Cannons - "
"Uh, guys...?"
But I would have lost it if I was forced to be thrust into another round of conversation where I didn't understand half of the words they were saying. This wasn't a situation I was used to, mind you.
"I think I'll meet you guys in the Great Hall. I've got to get ready for the Prefect party," I started back towards the castle.
"Right, 'bye, then, I guess," Harry called after me, to which I replied with a wave.
Somehow, the castle had a sort of dismal glow to it - whatever was left of the sun, bestowed itself upon the Whomping Willow, that, if had not been murderous, would have been gorgeous.
Ah, yes, the Prefects' Party. It's actually for the Heads too, but I don't like to refer to myself and Draco Malfoy as one item; rather, "Myself and Draco Malfoy" than "the Heads." Why? Because it wasn't something I was used to, nor something I wanted to get used to. And besides, it was true: it was for the Prefects, too.
By the time I had reached the common room, it was empty and dark. I fumbled around in my closet until I pulled out something that could pass for 'party wear'. But I wasn't exactly skilled in the concept. As an eighteen-year-old girl, Hermione Granger didn't spend her time partying. She spent it in the library. Or studying.
I made my way towards the Great Hall, which echoed with drunken yells and loud music by the time I had arrived. I had to shove past a stumbling Malfoy, carrying a six-pack of butterbeer (the man had a lot of determination to try and get drunk off of the stuff) until I found my way to Harry and Ron. They, too, seemed to be acting a little off.
"Hey Harry, Hey Ron," I said, and something at the corner of Ron's mouth caught my eye: drool.
"Oh Hey, Her-min-on-ne!"
"Um, yes, hello Ron – I - well, you know guys, I think I'm gonna, you know, see if I can find Ginny..."
I really just wanted to get away from them. Something about drunken people bothered me. I thought Harry and Ron had the sense to at least ACT sober around me.
"OK, Herm-inny, we're gonna go get some of that stuff..."
And they headed off together in a simultaneous, dangerously swaying stride towards the table with the butterbeer.
But I paid no attention and tried to find someone in the room I could invest in intellectual conversation with: someone sober, at least.
I eventually did find my way to Ginny.
"I couldn't find a date for this party," she said heavily.
I nodded.
"Why don't you ask Seamus Finnigan?" I said finally. I knew who she had wanted to come with, and I also happened to know he didn't have a date.
"Really? Do you think he'd accept?"
"I don't know, but even if he says no, at least you'll have asked."
"Good thinking. I'll be right back!"
And she went off in Finnigan's direction.
I stood by the table, waiting patiently for Ginny, when I realized that she wasn't coming back. The pretty Weasley girl in a pink dress caught my eye across the room and smiled nervously; her fingers were laced around the neck of Seamus Finnigan. So, I decided to thrust myself into the crowd, maybe hoping to catch someone's eye by the end of the party: this was particularly difficult for a girl arriving in her school robes. But I was able to steal a few before I got so tired that I left. And at 9:00, too.
In the common room, I spent the next three hours reading. If I had been keeping track of the time, I would have surely limited my reading time. But I immersed myself in a book, and when Hermione Granger is reading, a rampaging hippogriff could hardly get her attention. Therefore, I didn't hear the knocks on the door until the intruder's third attempt, at which they were so forceful they knocked it down.
It was, I should have known, the only person who could possibly access my common room, Dumbledore in exception: Malfoy.
In the initial shock of having my door knocked down, it took me a moment to realize this. But I frowned and glared at him as if I'd known he was coming.
"What was that for?"
He walked in to my bedside and said nothing. I still noticed the stumble in his step before he took a heavy seat on the foot of my bed, and stared at me in a way I would have enjoyed, except for the fact that it came from him.
"What could you possibly find so fascinating?"
He scooted himself up the bed clumsily to the point where his long legs were situated around my body, in a way that made me feel very trapped.
"You."
I tried to squeal out of this position. "What are you doing?! Leave! NOW!"
"You're not going ANYWHERE." He placed his hands firmly down on my shoulders. "Tonight, you're MINE."
"What the hell is wrong with you Malfoy?"
But it didn't take a genius to figure that out: he was drunk. And before I could stop him, he threw himself on me and buried my face into the pillow. His eyes sparkled with pure lust; he was sliding his hands up and down my arms patiently, as if ready to attack any moment.
And then, he kissed me.
But it wasn't sweet or adoring, or anything you'd expect a first kiss to be, in the least. It was hungry, and vicious, and violent. His mouth pressed down upon mine, pinning me to the sheets with his hands.
"Malfoy, please..."
But I was too weak to fend him off. In a deft move, he tore off my nightgown and pressed my body to the bed. His icy hands let themselves wander down from my shoulders – and they sent a chill through my body. There was no use struggling anymore, he was the stronger one, and practically twice my height.
"Hermione..." he said softly.
His hands were now upon my waist – massaging my stomach in a soothing way. I was beginning to cry, in my terrible fear of what he might to do me. My wand, sitting on my bedside table, was just conveniently out of my reach.
And just as I thought the situation was hopeless, a sharp voice sounded from over by the door, or what was left of it anyhow. Though I couldn't see who had entered, I knew who it was, and, for the first time in my life, I was, in a word, grateful, to see Severus Snape at my door.
"Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy! Stop this instant!"
I felt his body stiffen against me.
"Mister Malfoy you are going to come with me now... Miss Granger, are you all right?"
I nodded, but he wasn't to be fooled: my entire body was shaking.
"Miss Granger I will accompany you to the Hospital Wing where you will spend the night. End of discussion." His voice was very cold, but maybe I just didn't interpret it right: I didn't easily recognize concern in Snape's voice, I guess. Or he was very good at hiding it.
He left me to the room where I could dress. I was still in shock, and I had forgotten, in the gratefulness of having been saved, that I had been, of course, naked, in front of my savior. Who happened to be a Hogwarts professor.
But my mind was on other things: I tried not to sound like an idiot, but it was too late: by the time I left my room, I was choking on my sobs in very strange noises all the way to the Hospital Wing.