Title: Anger Management

Author: S.L. Pagniello

Chapter: 3

Ship: Dr/ Hr

Rating: R

Synopsis: He hates her, everything about her. Her hair, her eyes, her fucking muggle clothes! Now, during their 7th year at Hogwarts, he must not only deal with her but also learn to live with her. However, that may take the destruction of everything in his room... (HBP totally blows this into AU, but oh well!)

He touched her face, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his. So soft... why didn't he touch it more often? His thoughts darkened. Because she was filthy, vile and ugly. Because she was nothing. He squeezed her face, listened to her scream. Squeeze harder, harder... Tears began to fall, and one hit his hand. What was he doing? What was he doing, what was he doing, what was he doing!

Pain, sharp, stabbing agony in his frontal lobe. Draco let out a yell, thrashing about now.

"Settle down!" Who was that? He couldn't place the voice, and so ignored them, and continued. He couldn't see a thing, but perhaps his eyes were closed? He wasn't too sure anymore.

"Mr. Malfoy, calm yourself! You are in the hospital wing and I can't take care of you while your flailing like that!" It was Pomfrey. Now he placed her voice, but still he felt as if her body we moving involuntarily. He didn't need help, he was Draco Malfoy! He'd survived the wrath of 'He-who-must-not-be-named', Voldemort himself!

He felt the magic hit him, and sink into his veins even though he hadn't heard the spell. He had been to lost in his own thoughts to listen. Madame Pomfrey spoke now, her voice sounding exasperated as she did so.

"I swear, you'd think I was trying to kill you, boy!" She scolded him. Malfoy, eyes still squeezed shut, had a sour look upon his pale face. Pomfrey poked and prodded at him, but still he didn't dare sneak a look. Why, he wasn't so sure. Perhaps she was still around... and he didn't want to see her. He frowned deeply, slowly remembering his last conscious moments. She'd seen him lose his control. She'd watched him fall prey to his own faults. God damn her! His body twitched violently due to his strong emotions, causing Madame Pomfrey to jump back.

"Now now..." She mumbled, going over him once again. He didn't feel her touching him, most likely for the better. He didn't know if he could handle being touched and knowing it. Soon, she'd finished, Draco's eyes shut still.

"He's suffering from severe exhaustion..." Pomfrey said. Draco heard her robes sift as she moved away from him. "He isn't eating right either, look at his face. Much paler than usual, and he's much to skinny. Something tells me he's pushing himself far to hard." Who was she talking to? A professor? Snape maybe, he was head of Slytherin. However, he was Head Boy now, not really able to discriminate against houses. He was still a Slytherin, but he doubted Snape would handle any of his affairs. Perhaps she was speaking to Dumbledore himself? Draco doubted that as well. Dumbledore was far to busy a wizard to deal with Draco's fits of rage and ill control.

"His cheeks are all sunken in as well... Do you know why he's been destroying everything in his room lately? Every night it seems he has these fits. He breaks things... everything. He never carries it out of his room, but I hear him screaming late at night..." Her voice! It was her, that Mudblood! She was standing there, telling Pomfrey of his life! His life! Granger had no fucking business telling anyone anything about him! He felt his body convulse again, thrashing on the bed. The binding spell was wearing off, and his anger was getting a good rise out of him.

The women in the room seemed to ignore him now. "I'm not sure. It's most likely an inner turmoil... It's no curse any anything of that sort." Pomfrey answered Granger. "I think I ought to keep him here for a while... to make sure the boy eats and sleeps."

He heard the swishing of robes, and then heard the door shut. Muted voice came through the door, ones he couldn't hardly hear or have any chance at eavesdropping on. He heard the door open and shut again... and more rustling of robes. Then... silence. It was eerie, this silence. His brow furrowed, and to anyone looking to him he looked as if in a fevered sleep.

Damn it. Damn it all. He hated this, hated everything. He wished he could move so he could break something. If he could only get his hands on something and tear it to pieces he'd feel better. If only he could just--

"Malfoy, I don't know what to do." Her voice. Her voice had interrupted his destructive thoughts. So it was Granger who had come back into the infirmary. He'd almost forgotten that the door had opened again after the two had left.

"You hurt everyone around you. You break your things and everything that comes out of your mouth is hurtful and demeaning." She must have thought he was asleep! That's why she was speaking to him like this; she didn't know that he was listening. Not that he had a choice, mind you. If he was able to move, able to peel his eyes open and snarl at her, he would. He wraps a hand around her pretty neck and squeeze until her cheeks turned blue!

"I am Head girl. I am a Gryffindor. I am a witch. But most importantly I am Hermione Granger, and that is what you hate most in the world isn't it? You'd think that after everything... after everything you would look past blood and into people." Draco's body shivered.

You'd think he would, wouldn't you? After Voldemort, after his father, after the fall of everything he'd ever held to be true and right. One would think he'd turn into the pillar of righteousness. If he could, Draco would have spat at her feet. Why, why should he turn into some kind of 'great one' after all this? There were few that could accept him after Voldemort's defeat. Even some of the professors still looked on him with distain. He saw the questions that ran through everyone's mind. 'How could you live like that?' 'Why did you do what you did?' 'How could you have thought that way?' 'Why didn't you run away?' 'Why did you listen?' It was all he'd known! He'd never know a family that he could come home to that would embrace him. His mother had once been that way. When he was a young child he'd known what love was, known how it felt to have doting parents that gave him what he wanted because they loved him and simply wanted him to be happy. However, once his father had fallen in with Voldemort, adopting the mad man's craze for power and hate for all muggle and muggle born witches and wizards alike... love had ceased to exist. Never again did his mother embrace him. When he cried he wasn't picked up and fretted over. He was struck, struck again and again until he didn't know what it was like not to hurt. Until tears were no more.

"I want to help you," she whispered. Why in the hell would she want to help him? She hated him, loathed him with the same passion he hated and loathed her. Draco didn't want her help, or anyone else's.

"If I could just... find a way to help you." He heard playing with the hem of her robes. Even though she thought him asleep, she was still nervous, he could feel it.

"I know you won't accept my help lightly... and you will scorn me to begin with. But everyone breaks down after a while." Draco heard confidence in her voice. Why, why did she want to help him so badly? It just didn't make any sense at all! He felt strength returning to him, though he was still unable to really move. However, he felt he could open his eyes, so he did so.

His vision was cloudy at best, but getting better. He let things come into focus before he attempted at speech.

"Malfoy...?" She must have noticed his eyes fluttering open. The nervousness had returned to her voice. Now she was unsure, and damn good too! Draco was going to tell her off the second he could will his mouth open and let his lips form the words!

"Malfoy, you're awake! Oh, I was worried! I thought you'd dashed yourself into oblivion!" Was she excited? What in the hell? What had her friend's put in her pumpkin juice that morning!

Draco groaned slightly, before words could form. Now that his eyes were open, the light was making his head throb. He felt like vomiting, but kept that down should he not have the strength to roll over and vomit onto the floor. He felt a cool cloth on his forehead. Now his head hurt with more than just the irritation of light. He just couldn't grasp why this was happening. He knew, knew that Granger loathed him, and why shouldn't she? Even Draco knew he was and always had been insufferable, egotistical and overall just plain nasty. He'd never had anything nice to say to Granger (the few words he'd spoken to her over the years, before they'd become head boy and girl) and had lately had even less to say to her. Not once had he ever uttered a kind word in her direction. Nor had he ever spoken well of any of her friends. Why was she like this, cooing over him like a hen? God dammit why!

"Why?" He'd gotten the word out. His voice sounded nothing like itself, gnarled and raspy. He was horribly sick, that much he could tell. It hurt his throat to speak. He swallowed, trying to make his throat less dry and scratchy. He succeeded it making it burn like fire, and that about covered it.

"Don't try to speak, you're very sick!" She was scolding him like some kind of child. How dare she speak to him that way, no one spoke to him that way!

Draco moved to sit up, and got half way there before a strong wave of nausea hit him. It hit him so hard in fact, that he began to fall off the side of the cot he was lying in. Granger caught him before he could fall completely, and he vomited directly at her feet. However, she didn't seem perturbed at all, instead simply agitated. But, not at the action, rather at the fact that he wasn't listening to her.

"Listen Malfoy, I know you don't like me and probably don't want to listen to me so how about this. Think about the state your in, and decide for yourself. Do you want to get better? Or do you simply want to throw up until you totally dehydrate and lay on this cot and die!" Draco shivered in Granger's arms. He wasn't sure if it was because of vomiting, or because of whose arms he was in. Either way, he was uncomfortable.

Granger was wiping his face now, setting him up in a sitting position. She held onto him as she cleaned him up, dabbing a cool cloth to his cheeks and forehead. His eyes were narrowed into slits. Speaking had been painful, so he chose not to try again. He knew he wasn't strong enough to do anything anyway. For now he'd let Granger do what she wanted. In the end he'd get her. If he were passive now, later, when he felt better, she'd drop her guard. Maybe then he could just reach out and grab her. Shake her, strike her, throw her onto the ground! God he hated this, hated the feel of her hands on his body, touching his face and hair. Her soft dry skin coming into connect with his own damp, fevered skin. And dammit, he hated the way her feminine body made him feel. He could hardly stop his own eyes from watching every move she made. Everything she did... Dammit! He squeezed his eyes shut again. He just wouldn't look at her. Stupid mudblood. Stupid mudblood bitch! How dare she touch him, help him, show him any kind of care or affection! He'd kill her for this... slowly and painfully. He didn't want to feel anything. He didn't want to feel anything anymore and she was trying so hard. Trying so hard to make him feel something other than hate and malice.

Couldn't she he was dying! Everyday he killed himself a little more, he only wished he could get it done faster! His friends had deserted him, his father was hardly a shell of his former glory, his mother doting on his destroyed father and ignoring her only son. The people that should be thanking him only looked upon him with distain, with disgust. All anyone ever did was ask questions. They never just paused to think of what he had given up! What he had done for them! For these people that hated and loathed him, he'd sacrificed everything he'd ever known!

"Malfoy, Malfoy! Draco!" Granger was shaking him now, "Draco, calm down, nothing is going to hurt you, calm down!" He hadn't noticed, but his body had begun convulsing. Granger could hardly keep a hold of him, and nearly twice now he'd almost hit the floor.

"Let me go!" His voice was still hoarse, and not very load. Hardly loud enough to hear, and barely understandable. "Release me, mudblood!" He spat, his throat on fire as he tried to yell at her.

"No! You'll throw yourself onto the floor! All you'll do is hurt yourself worse! Why are you doing this, Malfoy? Why Draco, why!" She cried at him, trying to still him as he continued to try and break free.

"I hate you! I hate you, I hate you!" Draco kept repeating it, and repeated it until he could do no more the mouth the words. He was exhausted again, heaving breathes of burning air. The tears were falling down his face and all he felt was shame. Shame that Granger was there to see his weakness yet again, shame that he still had tears to shed after everything that had happened, shame that someone like him could even cry. He stopped thrashing simply because he could do it no more. His body ached and he still felt Granger's arms around him. He slumped like some kind of rag doll, and she let his rest against her. No coherent thoughts ran through his brain as the filthy mudblood girl stroked his hair back, and spoke kind words to him. He didn't think about anything as she told him it would be all right, and that she would forgive him for everything he'd ever said to her. The tears the fell from his eyes weren't for the fact that she told him she understood he was lonely, that she understood the pain and despair he felt. She made promises, promises that she would help, that she would make sure he was never lonely, even if he did hate her. She assured him she hated him to, hated everything he'd done and everything he did. She assured him he could do better, and once he had. He'd done things she didn't hate, that others didn't hate.

But he didn't weep for any of that. Not at her touch, or her words or at her soft voice. No... no he didn't weep for any of that. He didn't.

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A/N: o.o took a while to get out, huh! I'm progressing the Hermione/ Draco bit of this a little more now. We're seeing some insight as to why Draco does what he does, and we'll see more insight as it goes on. And please, nobody think Hermione is turning into some crazy person either. :P She will explain herself, I promise. Draco, like many of you I'm sure, is having a major difficulty understanding why she is helping. Don't fret guys! It'll all be explained... soon. :D!

Update: Yes, chapter 3 ready to be looked upon as real work instead of an insane drabble of misspellings and grammar mistakes! Happiness!