Hogwarts: A New Beginning to An Old Story Chapter 14: Our World Was Stained, Awake, & Drowned, a harry potter fanfic

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than me. Though, I did hope he wasn't suggesting the Imperious curse with his talk of his being "in control of" me.

And what was the deal with him stupefying me for this conversation? He could be such an incompetent weakling.

While I was still pondering all of that he rather unexpectedly lifted the stupefy curse from me. I rather gracefully lost my balance and landed on the concrete floor with an exceptionally resounding thud.

After gaining some sense of composure, despite the fact I was still on the floor, I questioned, "And just what did you mean by you being 'in control of me,' Malfoy?"

He gave a ghost of a smile and softly said, "Wouldn't you like to know."

Have I mentioned I find him entirely infuriating?

He continued looking down his long nose at me and spoke through thin lips, "Well, it was good we had this chat. You'd best be picking yourself up now, the students are about to arrive."

I glared incredulously at him and at that moment I would've rather spent the rest of my life living on that very floor rather than do what he had told me to.

He impatiently sighed, "Granger, you're being preposterous--"

I cut him off, "I'm being preposterous? Do you see me wandering around the castle randomly stupefying those I wish to have a word with? Do you see me popping into your classroom for absolutely absurd reasons? No--"

He loudly cleared throat as he made his way toward me and pulling me up to a standing position.

"Just stop messing with me, Granger."

Oh, yes, because I had been the one 'messing' with him. I am so sure.

I would've continued my argument, making a point to include my opinion that he was, in fact, completely mental, but the students, just as he had predicted, had begun to show up and file into his classroom.

Slightly deflated for the time being, I followed Malfoy into the room, preparing myself for detention.

Detention. There really couldn't be a better word to describe time spent with Malfoy: imprisonment, confinement, incarceration. Yes, those all sounded terribly accurate.

Though it wouldn't be a complete waste of time if I managed to murder him during the period. Perhaps it would be a better idea to simply brainstorm for the time being. I spent my time making a list:

Top 5 Ways to Rid My Life of Malfoy (and Not Get Caught):

1. Make good use of the room of requirement: "I need someplace to hide Malfoy's body where it will never, ever be found."

2. Vanishing Cabinet, fourth floor. Potentially problematic getting him to the fourth floor, though.

3. Two words: Giant Squid.

4. Muggle mental asylum.

5. Get Moaning Myrtle on his case again. He won't rest easy again until he's left the castle.

All right, so my list was slightly lacking in originality and viability, but it made me feel better at the time.

o o o

Draco - One Week Later

I was just going about my business, having gotten done with the errand McGonagall had sent me on -- into muggle London, no less -- and I now was trying desperately to get to an apparation point so I could make my way back to the familiar wizarding world.

I was choosing to ignore the fact I'd asked McGonagall for a task that would require me to leave Hogwarts, if only for a short time. I had to put some space between myself and Granger. I know the woman didn't come from an exactly magical background, but there was something distinctly veela about her. Or maybe it was just me.

Anyway, I guess old habits die hard, because I still was highly uncomfortable being all alone in a world filled with non-magical people. While rushing down a street toward a nondescript telephone booth (someone's idea of a clever joke for an apparation point) I caught a glimpse of red hair which I hadn't seen the likes of since the Weasleys attended Hogwarts. Yeah, I know I had hated them, but they had always been impossible to miss, which is why I stopped dead in my tracks to get a better look at the man with the red hair.

I don't know what I had been expecting; I suppose anything other than the person I caught eyes with. It threw me off so much I couldn't help myself, exclaiming, "Holy shit you're... You're supposed to be dead!"

His mouth dropped open slightly as he too stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and questioned, "Wait, you know me?"

There was no denying it was him. I, however, was now too stunned to speak and all I could do was lamely nod my head, my eyes searching over him for some flaw that would prove he wasn't who I thought he was. I mean, it was impossible, right? All of the Weasleys were long since gone.

My doubts were shattered mere moments later when he finally broke the silence between the two of us, speaking up so I could hear him over the flood of people moving around us,

"Do you know a girl named Hermione?"

No longer exactly shocked, I managed a fairly decent sneer (What? It's a defense mechanism.) as I inquired, "...What exactly are you playing at, Weasley?"

His eyes seemed to widen just a bit more and rather looked as if he were storing a piece of information away for later use.

Moving closer to me he barely whispered in an awed tone, "So that's my name then?"

I shot him my best reproving look. What kind of joke was this? And why didn't Granger know the git was alive?

He registered my glance and quickly pleaded, "No, please. You don't seem to understand..."

Oh, this was just too much and I was becoming steadily more annoyed and bored with this conversation. I replied sharply, "What makes you think I'd lower myself to do anything for you?"

He furrowed his eyebrows in such a way that only conveyed confusion and innocently asked, "What? Did I do something to offend you?"

I bit back a cold laugh, "...recall that one time in fifth year...?"

He almost looked fed up with me as he explained, "But that's the thing, I don't." He paused as if in thought and tried again, "...So I went to school with you? Was it in London?"

I shot him an incredulous look, finally beginning to believe him, "You really don't remember, do you?"

He merely offered me an exasperated look, as if I were the slow kid in the class and should've caught on by now.

I continued my questioning, "Nothing at all? About a dozen siblings? Played on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?"

He slowly shook his head and asked in an astonished tone, "Could you tell me about those things? My family? Kwidditch?"

I quickly scoffed, "Red, you've got the wrong man. I wasn't exactly 'one of the gang'."

Having said that, I turned to leave, eager to get myself out of the muggle hellhole as soon as possible.

He reached out and caught my sleeve, desperation clearly apparent in his eyes, "Please, you're the only one who can help me."

I glowered down at his hand which was still holding onto a large amount of my muggle coat and questioned, "What about Granger?"

His hand dropped away as yet another confused look overtook his features as he questioned, "Who?"

Rather frustrated I found myself shouting, "Oh for fuck's sake. Hermione!"

To say the least, he was really beginning to unnerve me.

He, however, seemed completely oblivious to my feelings toward him and just continued on with his endless stream of questions, now asking, "So you do know her?"

I tried my best to look bored with this entire situation, it wasn't too hard considering I really had had just about enough of this bullshit. Though I found myself answering him anyway,

"...Unfortunately"

The features on his face conveyed nothing but pure hope and he, once again, threw another question in my direction:

"Could you tell me where she is then?"

I openly sneered as I snapped back, "There's no way you'd be able to see her."

And as amusing as it had become watching the Weasel's facial expression change with every single thing I said, it was getting old real fast. He was by no means done wearing his heart on his sleeve though, and worriedly continued his interrogation, barely managing to whisper,

"Why? ...She isn't... She's okay, isn't she?"

I rolled my eyes, thinking I should've taken the chance to escape when I had it, because clearly there was something about him that made me think now that I should stick around and answer his inane questions.

I didn't have to be nice about it though,

"She's downright peachy. That doesn't change the fact she's highly unavailable."