A/N: 'Allo! This is my first HP fanfiction, so be nice! Yes, this WILL be Draco/Hermione (gosh I love that couple to death) with fluff and mush (though I try not to go overboard), the occasional humorous events, and some angst. I am doing research for this story (no specifics – yet! You'll see). This is just a little snippet to see how you people, the oh-so-important reviewers that boost a writer's morale so much, respond to it. –rubs hands together hopefully– This will be Grumpy Draco's chapter (of course, it doesn't take a lot to make him grumpy – look at his metaphorical label…it practically screams 'Just add water, and POOF! Instant Grumpiness! Materials required: water. Water not included with package.'). Hermione's chapter will be next. Thanks, hope you enjoy! (Oh yeah, since the sixth book is already out, this will be an AU story.)
The STUPID disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter or any of its characters in any way, they belong to J.K. Rowling. Lucky.
–sob– Draco, just hold on, I'm coming for you! –sob– I only own the plot, the scenery (NOT the actual locations) and any OCs that may appear in here. Poor Draco – nooo wait, I'm here to loooove you! HOLD ON!
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Draco Malfoy snarled bad-naturedly as he stormed to the broom shed on the grounds of the Malfoy Manor, which was guarded by imposing black cast-iron gates wrought with serpent-like curlicues. "Bloody bastards – who do you think they are?" He imitated a high, prissy voice, "'Here, Draco, you can have this responsibility! And this one! And this! And this! Oh, here, don't forget this one too! Good luck!'" He resumed his normal voice, ran a slim pianist hand through his hair, flustered, and growled, "Well, I'll definitely need that luck, but good luck my arse when it's her! Jeez, shove all that crap under my nose, won't they?"
Draco proceeded to put away his sleek Nimbus 2001 in the shed, and continued on towards his room.
He was clutching a wrinkled parchment, and crumpled and uncrumpled it angrily. Walking through the quiet halls, his footsteps echoing and resonating through the marble floors, he turned a right, took a left, walked all the way down a narrow corridor, flanked with generations of Malfoy portraits doing various things, and marble busts of particularly prominent figures in the Malfoy bloodline. This small trip to his room was all made with the confidence and familiarity that only living in a place for years could bring.
The lithe sixteen-year-old figure (not yet a man, but a boy no longer) walked up a few steps, kept striding on for a few more meters, and stopped abruptly in front of a stone gargoyle with embedded red rubies intended to be eyes. "Scîre," Draco commanded coldly.1
The gargoyle suddenly blinked slowly with stone eyelids, and moved aside, albeit grudgingly. Draco swept into the concealed spiral staircase as it started moving up. The statue watched him rise into the air, blinked again, then sluggishly shuffled back into place, an act it had been charmed to perform repetitively for over three hundred years.2
Draco watched the sculpture move back into its original position some twenty feet below him coolly, and then shifted his stormy gray eyes upwards toward the door several meters above him.
Stained glass windows set sporadically into the round walls cast their multicolored light on his hair, making the silky strands flicker vivid sapphire, then amethyst, ruby, gold, emerald, then sapphire again. The dust motes were also illuminated pure gold, vibrant in the afternoon sunlight, floating around gently and aimlessly, parting in a silent breeze of air in front of Draco's face. The tower's air thick with magic and enchantments, Draco closed his eyes, savoring the peacefulness and serenity of the atmosphere, and hoping to absorb some of it to relieve his tension.
He almost wished he could be like the dust motes he saw drifting softly around – peaceful, unworried, without a care in the world… 'Of course she would make it…after all, she is top student, a suck-up, a know-it-all, a Mudblood, and an all-around goody-two-shoes…my life cannot get any worse than this. A whole year stuck with her.' After a few silent seconds, the staircase halted, he snapped out of his contemplative trance, and Draco stepped out into the again empty hallway that led to a tower in the western wing of the manor.
Walking briskly now, and still clutching the parchment owled by a large Tawny school owl, he strode down the passage that branched erratically into rooms, and ended at a large antechamber with a marble fireplace in the left side, and was lavishly furnished with comfortable seats. Draco entered the room, his midnight black robes swirling around him (specifically performed for added dramatic effect!), and the chamber suddenly blazed with green light as a fire sprung to life and died just as quickly when Draco stepped in front of it. Stooping down low, the silvery blond scooped up a still smoldering emerald ember, and marched over to the large ebony door which had a small indentation, barely noticeable, that had apparently been charred repeatedly with hundreds of thousands of tiny coals.3
He now pressed the glowing ember into the groove, and the entryway swung open silently. Draco stalked into his room, threw the letter onto his writing desk piled with papers, and decided to take a nap to rid himself of the headache that was now brewing in his forehead (he had always had nasty side effects from spells and potions that got rid of headaches)– he could swear that the letter had conspired with the Fates to mock him. Draco took a deep breath to attempt to calm down his frazzled nerves. 'I mean, Padma's okay enough, at least that's a given, but a Hufflepuff airhead Fletchley and know-it-all Mudblood Granger are just too much! Enjoyable experience, pah!'
He changed into his nightclothes, and groaned loudly. He slapped the pillow over his head to block the sight of the letter, which, in his eyes, was now shimmering pink and zooming around the desk, making his head throb with every loop-de-loop and piece of skywriting that said 'MUDBLOOD GRANGER, AHAHAHA, HA HA! TOUGH LUCK, MALFOY!'. (Of course, this was obviously the headache's fault – blame it for poor Draco's hallucinations.) "BICKY! COME OVER HERE TO MASSAGE MY BACK! NOW! AND THIS TIME, DON'T FORGET THE OIL, OR ELSE I'LL HAVE TO FEED YOU TO AQUILA!" Draco yelled at the top of his lungs. Merlin, that paper was annoying, maybe a massage and a nap would do the trick… A timid elf appeared with a pop and started rubbing Draco's shoulders with mint oil. Draco sighed and tried to drift off to sleep.4
The letter remained innocently among his other papers, the ink smudged, the paper slightly torn, a bit worn at the edges, with numerous creases running through it. Tiny holes could be found throughout the letter, obviously left by an agitated owl.
It read (but, of course, it was hardly legible, given that a slightly stupid owl – or maybe it was just improperly trained – had nervously bitten loads of holes of varying sizes in the parchment…or maybe the parchment had just tasted good… and Mr. Malfoy had only kindly added to the illegibility with his anger):
Dear Mr. Draco Malfoy,
We are pleased to inform you that this year (your sixth, as you should very well know), you were chosen among your house (Slytherin) to represent it in the school. This is new, we know, but since there is only one Head Boy and one Head Girl, which does not represent the houses fairly, the staff felt obligated to start a new organization (in addition to prefects) that is somewhat like an assistant Head body; instead, there will be four assistants, one from each house. You will be sleeping in the same dorm, but will have some of the responsibilities of Heads (which includes planning activities together, patrolling the school occasionally, and also helping various professors with papers and whatnot, either alone or in pairs). Also, after the feast and Sorting Ceremony, meet in the Astronomy Tower at nine o'clock for more information on your new duty – and we will expect all four of you to get along and set a model example for other students. It will last until approximately ten. We hope this will be an enjoyable experience for you.
Thank you, and best regards,
Profs. Dumbledore, Flitwick, McGonagall, Sprout, & Snape
PS. Unlike Heads, you are allowed to know the identities of your fellow colleagues, which, in this case, are Justin-Finch Fletchley (Hufflepuff), Hermione Granger (Gryffindor), and Padma Patil (Ravenclaw). Good luck!
BUT, being the poor abused letter that it was, it actually read:
ear Mr. o af y,
We r plesed to form you hat is yea (our sixth, as u shuld very wel now), you wee hose og yor houe (Sythri) to present it in te cool. Tis is new, we kow ut sine thee i only on He Boy ad on He Girl, wich doe no rereset he hoses fairy, the taff felt oligaed to start a new organ (in addton to pets) that is somwat lik an assstant Hea boy; insted, thee wll be for asistnts one fro ach hous. Yo will be sleping in the sam dom, but wil hae som of the esponibliies of Has (wich clues panning ativites toeter, rolling the scool occsioaly, ad aso heling vaios proesors wih papes and whano, ether aloe or in pars). Als, aftr the fest and Sorig Cermoy, met in the Astonmy ow at nie o'cloc for more infrmaion on yur new dty – and we wil expct al fur of you to et alog an se a moel exampe for oter studets. It will lat untl aproimaely ten. We hoe this will be an able pee for u.
Tank yo, ad bet ears,
Pro Dubledoe, tick, McGal, pout, & ape
PS. lie He, yu ar aloe to now the dentites of yur felo cleagues, whih, in this cae, are Just in-inch etchy (Huffpuff), Her one ranger (Grindor), and Pad Pa til (Ravelaw). God Luck!
Why was it not surprising that the "o" in "Good" was lost, and the smudged "l" in "luck" looked suspiciously like an 'f'?
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A/N: Since you read this, please also review! I want feedback as to how you like this, whether I should continue it, what you liked/didn't liked, and what I should improve. I will have a plot later on. (Actually, I already do, it's just that this IS the first chapter.) If you want good D/Hr fics…go read: Basketcase (by attica), Forced Love (by Icy Stormz), Road Trip (by Escritora), Nox (by Tinuviel Henneth), The Cabin and The Manor (by Halfling), Scales and a Tail (also by Halfling), Terrifie (by Calypso in Love), Pain is Bitter, Love is Pain, and Love (also by Calypso in Love), In the Mind of a Walking Encyclopedia (couldn't remember the author), and Valentine Encounter (I couldn't remember who the author was either…TT). Check out Charolastras's account for more D/Hr in her 'Favorites'. (Just cause I'm too lazy to do it myself.) –shameless plugging– Oh, and, even though my other fics in my other account aren't very good –I am NOT going to say they suck, because they don't, but they're not the best in the world, either– there's also my other account, mintleaf, which is Final Fantasy VII fanfiction. Oh, and if you want an analysis of chapters (there are a lot of subtle hints and symbolism in this chapter too, you know), you can always email me at: remekah gmail dot com – but I may not respond right away. I am a busy person. –cough–procrastinator–cough– OH, AND CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME IF THE NAME IS SPELLED PAVARTI OR PARVATI? (I think it's Parvati, but I could be wrong. –shrugs–) And yes, I know I'm extremely wordy and rambling and all, but come on, isn't this entertaining and so enlightening? That's just me, deal with it.
Many thanks (of course!),
Remekah
1Scîre (pronounced SKEER-re, e as in best): Latin for "to know".
2Think Dumbledore's staircase!
3Well, this part is proudly owned by my imagination. If you're a bit confused, this particular fire (which is magical, of course) only lights up for a few seconds when the rightful occupant (or spouse/children of the occupant) of the room enters. And just so you know, nobody can pass except the owner, spouse, and children. So, spells and potion won't work here; the fire identifies the owner by their soul. The only to impersonate the owner is to possess their actual soul, which is quite difficult, though a dementor could do it, if they haven't mangled the poor soul already with the Dementor's Kiss! Ew, EW, EW! The embers stay in the fireplace long enough for the person to grab one and press it into the hole in the door. (So, it's sort of like the Muggle keyholes, you know?) Once that's done, the embers disappear, and the door unlocks.
4Aquila (pronounced AH-kwi-la, kwi as in quit) is the Latin name for eagle. Aquila is Draco's owl. (An Eagle Owl, obviously.) ; Yes I know, I'm obsessed with Latin. Oh well.