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Chapter 5
"Are you trying to tell me that Draco Malfoy actually had to pull his wand out of his arse!" Ron yelled, in disbelief.
Hermione winced, but mutely nodded imperceptibly, all too aware of the scene they were causing in the Great Hall. That was all the confirmation they needed.
Harry and Ron burst into uncontrollable laughter.
"I always knew that Malfoy had a stick shoved up his arse, but I never imagined it'd be his own wand!" Harry managed to add this comment before the laughter overtook him again.
"That fudge packer probably couldn't get any, so he had to use his own wand for Merlin's sakes!" Ron added between guffaws.
"I always thought the tip of his wand looked a little brown!" Harry doubled over as waves of laughter rolled through him again.
Hermione allowed herself a tiny giggle before she chastised the boys. "Shhh! Keep it down! I don't want Malfoy to think I'm spreading rumors about him swinging the other way!" To her dismay, Hermione realized it was too late. She watched as the whispers swiftly spread down the Gryffindor table. She knew that within minutes, the nasty rumor would reach the ears of none other but Draco Malfoy himself. She definitely didn't want to be there when that happened. Shoving away her half-eaten breakfast, Hermione glared at Harry and Ron. "I'm going to the library," she said in her nastiest tone. They ignored her, of course. Those dimwitted idiots she called friends were still laughing their heads off. Hermione secretly hoped they would choke on their breakfast. This was entirely their fault.
Draco Malfoy was in a good mood. He was eating breakfast, routinely shutting out Pansy's endless prattle about her plans for the summer. He had much more important things to think about. For example, Granger. The unattainable bushy haired mudblood virgin princess know-it-all bookworm had finally fallen, and for him! He wouldn't hesitate to jump for joy if he had the reassurance that his fellow Slytherins wouldn't send him to St. Mungo's. Oh, it's not like he liked the cow; he liked the power. He now had the key to controlling Granger, and to Draco, control was everything. All he had to do now was figure out exactly what he was going to do to use this leverage to his advantage.
Remembering Pansy, Draco looked up to show her he was paying attention when he noticed her lips weren't moving, and her eyes were staring at him in horror. That's when the noise broke through his carefully constructed dam of silence, threatening to drown him in its sheer earsplitting quantity. Finally adjusting to this rude intrusion, Draco realized three quarters of the Great Hall was laughing uproariously. The silence rolling off the Slytherins was all too tale telling. Something was wrong. And just as he was about to ask Pansy what was going on, his head cracked to the left as Pansy delivered a vicious slap.
"How could you!" She wailed.
His ears were ringing from the slap, but he could still hear the deathly silence that had filled the Great Hall. Every eyeball was now turned towards him—fearful, yet eager nonetheless for his reaction.
His father would have killed Pansy right then and there. The younger Draco would have flew into a violent rage, screaming intelligibly and throwing everything in sight. Draco did neither as he stared at Pansy for a long second, then stiffly walked away, the pink handprint still burning on his right cheek.
On the outside, Draco looked calm and composed, but inwardly he was seething. How dare Pansy slap him in front of all of Hogwarts! He didn't even know what he had done wrong! And Merlin! The emotion in her eyes when she had slapped him. She had looked as if she had caught him cheating on her. They weren't even together; sure he had shagged her more than a few times, but she knew that didn't mean anything to him.
In his state of confusion, Draco's feet had turned on autopilot, taking him to the library instead of his room as he had expected. Still on autopilot, he pushed the door open automatically and almost ran over Hermione.
"Granger." He nodded his head stiffly in acknowledgement and moved to walk past her.
Hermione gasped. The faint outline of a slender hand marred his pale perfection. Who had slapped Malfoy! Instinctively, as one would reach out to a wounded animal, Hermione touched the handprint tentatively in wonder. "What—What happened?" She whispered.
Her fingertips felt wonderfully cool against his burning skin.
"I was hoping you could tell me that," Draco said in an empty voice. At her questioning look, he said, "I guess you weren't there. Pansy slapped me."
Hermione's quick mind rapidly put two and two together. She had heard Parkinson and Malfoy were lovers. Pansy must have heard the rumor and slapped Malfoy in her rage. Hermione blanched as she realized it was all her fault; after all, however unintentionally, she had started the cruel rumor. Hermione's brown eyes flew to his dazed grey ones, guilt flooding their coffee-colored depths.
Draco's glazed eyes immediately focused, sharpening on those in front of him. If Granger was the cause of this, there was going to be hell to pay.
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