"Wonderful, Malfoy, you must be really proud of yourself now. Another detention we have to endure with Snape because of you. Brilliant, just brilliant! Thanks a million," Hermione ranted furiously as she stomped her way to the common room, Draco fuming not far behind her.
After she almost yelled out the password to the portrait of the Knight in Shining Armour, the two Heads entered their shared common room, their fire of hate igniting the room. Both vexed and red-faced with anger, they continued to howl at one another at the top of their lungs.
"Oh, shut up, Granger, all you do is yell at me, and it doesn't seem to help any of your problems. If you had just listened to me, then we wouldn't be in this mess. So, really, it's mainly your fault. You shouldn't be blaming me for anything. If you had just listened to me and not gone on in your own little world, we wo—"
"You knew that climbing that tree in the Forbidden Forest is like climbing the Whopping Willow! It's highly dangerous, and a life is not worth risking for an ingredient for a potion. If you wanted to get a hold of it so badly, then why didn't you do it?" Hermione bellowed while motioning her hands up in aggravation and trying to control her rising anger.
"Well, think of the obvious, Granger. Haven't you ever considered that my life is worth more than yours, and something not worth risking? If you disappear or die, I don't think Potter and Soon-to-be-Father Weasel will be bawling rivers for you," replied Draco, giving her his infamous smirk while an offended look was evident on her face.
Hermione tried greatly with all she had not to show any signs of loss and resentment to the Slytherin, who rivaled her anger. She kept her clenched fist from the urge of punching the pulp out of Malfoy.
Fire of fury could be seen in her eyes as they focused on the Slytherin, who was a few paces from her. Her hair, like always, was wild with stress and the need for rest was obvious. Both still in their school robes, they looked as if they had just fallen in a ditch of some sort. His trousers and her skirt had a few trails of mud and their robes looked ravished.
"Mainly, Malfoy, it was because of you. If you had just woken up in the right time and gotten ready promptly, we wouldn't have gotten the stupid detention in the first place!"
"Please, Granger, don't act like you haven't done anything wrong," he retorted and began doing a bucktooth imitation of her, persistently waving a hand up in the air, springing as if he needed a trip to the loo.
Hermione scowled, but before she could snap back, he continued to flood her with comebacks. Draco took a step forward.
"And we were late for our detention because you cried with Moaning Myrtle. Why can't you accept the fact that your dear Weasel will be a father soon? The Weaselette handles it better than you do. The Weasel King doesn't want you. To be frank, no one does," he drawled on while watching the immobilized Gryffindor open and close her mouth. He showed no sign of remorse or whatsoever at Hermione because of what he had said and done. Making her life a living hell was his specialty, and a hobby he enjoyed doing.
"You must be the most imprudent, cocky, loathsome, foulest, and insufferable prat I have ever met! You insolent git. I can't believe you even made Head Boy. You walk around the grounds like you own this place and everyone is in your control. Well, you're entirely wrong! Everyone detests you. They think you're a twitchy little ferret who walks around with two buffoons—three buffoons—by your shoulder and your pug-face cow, Pansy Parkinson," Hermione managed to utter out in defence with her anger flying high. Draco showed no signs of defeat, but only a lazy, 'oh-shut-up' look. Draco took another step towards the seething brunette.
"Mudblood, Pansy is, in fact, better than you. How can you think that I didn't make Head Boy for nothing? I couldn't believe that the old oaf we have as Headmaster considered the Weasel King to be Head Boy. I mean, he can't even do a simple contraceptive spell to prevent…" Draco gave a light laugh to himself as he took another step forward. Hermione, who was a head shorter than he was, felt as if he were towering over her with his height. However, she showed no signs of defeat. She continued to clench her fist with a 'you're-such-a-bastard' look.
"I think you're slightly wrong about people hating me entirely. Because of the students in this school, I was made Head Boy. There are other ways to become a Head Boy. Students can also vote. Ha! Not everyone hates me. Well, maybe only you and your fellow Gryffindors, who have problems," Draco replied superiorly as if he had bellowed to a vulgar.
"Why? What did you do? You have been kissing Snape's rear for the past six years; I wouldn't be surprised if you two finally made a date. Did you also bribe others and threatened them horridly to get you where you are?" Hermione asked coldly. Draco gave a not-so-amused laugh.
"You're funny, Granger, very. No, I actually didn't. C'mon, what can you say? People love me, other than you and my enemies, of course. Unlike you, Mudblood, I'm rich and superior. Unlike you, I don't need to become friends with people for them actually to be with me. Unlike you, I'm not a filthy little Mudblood," Draco spat bitterly. Oh, how he enjoyed their fights. The hate was obvious. Even a person with half a brain knew that. His mind continued to race for more comebacks and insults to say to the seething brunette. He wanted her to crack, crack and burst into tears, crack and make her wish she had never been born. As the detestation wheel continued its roll on his road, the challenge he had been given quickly faded from his mind.
Clearly angry and red-faced, Hermione uttered, "Unlike you, Malfoy, I'm not a git."
Draco laughed aloud, making Hermione regret her words.
"Ouch, Granger, I think you actually hit a nerve," he mockingly said while holding his heart as if he had been hit.
"You insufferable, pompous, arro—"
"Yeah, yeah. I know. All the synonyms for the term 'git.' It's a word I hear from you everyday. Very commonly used, but so is 'Mudblood.' But, hey, that's what you are. A filthy, low Mudblood." A smirk played on his lips as Hermione opened and closed her mouth to retort.
For years now, Malfoy had made a habit of calling her Mudblood; an offensive term that other wizards believe is ill mannered and vulgar. Draco, who was a proud Pureblood, felt no guilt for using the word.
A hot feeling filled the pit of Hermione's stomach and all the anger that possessed her was powerful enough to perform an Unforgivable. She clenched her fists and said, "I hate you, Draco Malfoy. You ba—bastard," she managed to swear.
After faking a surprised gasp, Draco went on, "Merlin's beard, did our Miss I'm-the-Perfect-Role-Model just swear? Tsk, tsk, Granger. No worries, I'm not too head-over-heels with you either. Of course, not many people are. I bet you that Weasel King and The-Boy-That-Won't-Die ditched you because they're getting sick and tired of the lame crap they have to go through with you. You think that you can save everyone. We don't live in Muggleland; we live in a world where house-elves want to be treated like shit.
"That Weasel of yours is a complete oaf. Funny, really, that you're still not over the fact that he doesn't love you. You're jealous of that idiotic girl—whatever her name is—because all they do is snog and shag in any way that they can. That Weasel shags like a bunny. The Astronomy Tower seems to be their little love nest, and I guess their baby workshop.
"Potter and Sidekick—whatever you want to call them—can't do anything without your brains. They're complete dafts without your know-it-all brain; they could have died in their first year. You're their last resort: they are using you. They secretly hate you. You think that Potter could have saved all those people if it wasn't for you? You are their last option."
Hermione, stupefied and white-faced, stood before the proud Slytherin immobilized. All she wanted to do at the moment was to fall on her knees and cry her eyes out. Of course, that's what she felt like doing every time he drowned her with hurtful insults. She struggled in great heights to keep herself on her feet and show no tears, though hurt could be clearly seen from where Draco stood.
The words really did sting this time, and it cut her past wounds deeper than ever. Can what he was saying actually be true? Do they really hate her? Yeah, they were parting away; they barely talked to one another any more. Harry and Ron were off with their girls. Was Malfoy right? The words continued to keep her feeble as she stood frozen.
Contented at what he had done, he began his way to his bedroom. He was pleased to know that he had shut Hermione Granger up and walked away with the last word in the argument. But before taking his last step on the stairs, an unrecognisable voice drawled from the common room. He turned his head to the only person in the room.
"I pity you, Malfoy." It was un-Hermione-ish. Her voice had no emotion in it and was not like her professional-like one.
Starring blankly in space, she monotonously said, "I used to think you need your daddy to get you whatever you want and fight for your defence. I guess you can fight a Mudblood without forcing them to go to court. Everyone's glad to hear your father is in Azkaban. I don't feel sorry for your mother and you. Your father deserves Azkaban. I wouldn't be surprised if you two reunite in prison. Like father, like son; Death Eaters. You're going to be just like him, a Death Eater, like your beloved fath—"
Without knowing it, Draco slammed Hermione against the wall of the common room with a thump of her head. The pools of grey in his eyes showed cold anger and rage. His shallow breaths made Hermione shiver, as his nose was a centimetre apart from hers.
Nervous to death, Hermione held her breath hoping that the raged Slytherin would not harm her in any way.
His body crushed her on the wall, almost suffocating her. His scent smelled like sweat and cologne – sweat from the activities that Snape had planned them to do in the Forbidden Forest. Beads of sweat rolled down the side of his face. His always pale and pointy features seemed darker by the shadow. Hermione had never been this close to Draco in her life.
Looking at her brown, almost black, eyes with his cold, icy ones, he spoke bitterly, "Never again, Mudblood. Don't ever talk shit like that. You know nothing about me and you know nothing of what's happening in my life. It's none of your business and something you shouldn't be concerned about. Do you hear me?" The way he spoke made Hermione feel as if it were Voldemort who had just spoken to her. She was afraid of the Malfoy who had his arm on her throat against the wall, almost choking her. Never had she experienced Malfoy like this. She reluctantly nodded.
Draco loosened his overpowering grip on the Gryffindor and slowly stepped away. She withdrew the huge intake of breath that clogged her throat. She breathed heavily as if she had just been suffocated. She had never seen Malfoy like this, never. Hermione, not taking her eyes off the Slytherin, stepped away from him, slowly making her way to her room.
This was the first time she had really made Draco this angry. He took his eyes off Hermione and looked down at his pale hands. Never had he reacted this way. Usually, he would just fight back with an even more hurtful remark.
Did Hermione just discover his weakness? Why would he react like this? Her brain raced on with unfulfilled questions as she continued to stare at the Malfoy, who paced back and forth in a small area of the room, rubbing his temple as if in deep thought.
Why did I have to do that? Now she's going to think I'm scared of my father. Why did I push her against the wall? Fuck, she better not talk to anyone about this or else I will seriously Crucio her. Stupid Mudblood, stupid bitch. He cursed in his head, trying to ignore the focus of the Muggle-born. However, his train of thought was interrupted by the tapping sounds from the window.
Both students gazed at the large window of the common room, which showed a mocha-coloured owl tapping the glass lightly. The sight of the lake was clear behind the owl, and the moon shone on the dark lake.
"Mercury," Draco muttered the name of the owl to himself and made his way to the window. He opened the window and a cool, early November breeze entered the room. The owl, which shared no difference in height with Hedwig, hooted exhaustedly at Draco, who—almost painfully—grasped the parchment off its leg.
Hermione continued to watch him. He unfolded the parchment and his face became even paler. A growl emitted from his mouth and he abruptly threw the parchment in the fireplace aimlessly. He freed the owl and marched his way to his dormitory, bypassing Hermione, who had no clue as to what had gotten him even whiter.
At the sound of the slam of the door, Hermione hurriedly took the parchment from the fireplace before it turned to ashes. She skimmed through the note Draco's mother had owled him.
Draco,
I should have owled you sooner. This is really important; it has something to do with your father. Meet me in the common room at exactly 2:00. I'm not going to Floo there. I'm going to talk to you. Don't be late. We can't risk people knowing our business.
Don't reply, Draco. Just make sure you don't forget to come tonight.
Love,
Your mother
Curiosity was never a sin; it's something everyone must live by. After reading the letter, curiosity and the need for more knowledge filled Hermione. Her brain raced on what Narcissa would want to discuss with Draco. For sure, it had something to with Lucius; the letter had even mentioned it. Hermione knew that this would be important and something she should not miss.
She threw the parchment back in the fireplace and tactfully walked to her room, where she could take her rest and wake up at two o'clock in the morning. With only three hours of sleep, she couldn't help but let her imagination work at what may happen. What could they possibly need to discuss?
Hermione endured no sleep at all. She had a hard time closing her eyes and drifting off. Her brain wouldn't rest, and facts were needed to answer her questions. She lay there on her bed with a headache.
She continued to listen to the clock tick as every second flew by. She just wanted to sleep but she continued to shift on the bed, confused and perplexed.
Then, she heard a door close. She immediately jumped out of bed and almost stepped on Crookshanks, who was sleeping peacefully in his own little area near the bed.
In her pyjamas and her hair nowhere near in order, she slowly and deceitfully opened the door and tiptoed her way to the common room.
It was two o'clock and the moon that could be seen by the window was not as bright as had been in previous hours. She continued to walk quietly to the common room, not wanting Draco to find out that she was eavesdropping.
She knew that if she went too near him, there was a possibility that she could get caught. She kept her feet glued to the second last step of the stairs and hid by the shadow where she could at least hear what was being said. Her heart raced; she would finally find out what may be going on.
The only source of light in the room was the green, flashing lights that brightened the room. From where Hermione stood, she could see a knowable tall, white-blond teenager in green robes kneeling in front of the fireplace speaking audibly to the fireplace that sourced the luminous light that lightened the room.
"What is it, mother? Has something gone wrong?" He asked the green fire of the fireplace. The sounds of the wood crackling could be heard from where Hermione stood.
"Draco, my son, I have been ordered to tell you this from the Dark Lord. He has planned to give you a task. I do not know what it is because he hasn't clued me in on it yet, but if you succeed in this one, you will be honoured more than anything and he may forgive your father," replied a ladylike voice, which Hermione knew to be his mother. It seemed high-powered and superior, just like the other Malfoys.
"He will reward you. He will spare your father's life and he may plan another mass breakout in Azkaban. I will visit Hogwarts next Friday to discuss this further with you. I know for a fact that if you successfully accept this, he may grant you to be a Death Eater—"
"I don't want to be a Death Eater," Draco quickly interjected in a bitter tone. "I would accept it for you, mother, if that's what you want me to do."
"Draco, I don't want to put you in any danger, but it is his orders. I may ask Severus to assist you in this—"
"I don't want Snape's help, I can do this --whatever it is-- on my own," Draco replied confidently, still unknown of the task. "But, mother, I don't want to receive the Mark. I—I don't want to be one of them."
Draco's tone, to Hermione's surprise, was lower and less snobby. It sounded weak and hurt, as if he was going to cry. It didn't seem like Draco's superior, narcissistic voice.
"Draco, I'm sorry, but—what was that?" Narcissa asked at the sound she had just heard.
To Hermione's bad luck, the shuffling of her feet made a sound from her slippers. The two Malfoys had heard it from the fireplace. Draco turned his focus by the staircase, where he saw a bush of thick brown hair.
"Draco, wait! I will owl you with more information. Make sure that Mudblood didn't hear anything. Bye for now, love," Narcissa lastly said as the fire turned its original colour. Draco paced furiously up the stairs. There, he saw Hermione Granger as she held her breath and her heart racing rapidly, uncertain of what was going to happen.
A/N Thanks everyone for your reviews! I appreciate them all. They keep me from writing even more! Keep it up … LOL, joking.
As u can see the story is building up alternate plots and subplots.
XD --- Anjelica