Chapter Two
Elvyra…Draco stroked his chin as he gazed out the train window. His mind was quite empty compared to what it used to be. Nothing was racing and yet he couldn't quite say he was at peace. He was far from it as a matter of fact. That's what struck him so odd. He should be sorting through a massive sea of thoughts by now, but he wasn't and he still didn't feel calm. There was one thing nagging at him though.
He still couldn't believe he had jumped.
Sure he had contemplated it millions of times; suicide. He never thought he'd be bold enough to pull it off though, and leaping off a cliff honestly surprised him. If only he had that kind of drive for other things in life. Oh the irony.
The landscapes outside the window crept by soundlessly as Draco continued to lock eyes with them. He could almost make her face out in the trees. He thought about her, about what she could be doing right now.
Elvyra had been so kind to him, and yet he hadn't retaliated. He wasn't sickened by the fact that she was a simple muggle who had found him nearly dead and restored him back to life. He wasn't disturbed by her willingness to keep a complete stranger in her house. She had this weird effect on him that he couldn't describe. The incongruities between them held a lasting effect on him.
Elvyra was different from any other muggle, not to mention person, he had ever met. She lived in a tiny cottage in the middle of a forest far from any city or town. She lived off the land she harvested herself, growing her own food and collecting all her necessary supplies from the nature that surrounded her. She had built Draco's strength up with her own concoctions and herbs that Draco had never even heard of. The naturalness she had displayed was refreshing for a person so accustomed to magic and technology. Draco had stayed with her for about two weeks before departing to come back to school. His father hadn't questioned him about his whereabouts. Lucius hadn't really cared.
Draco could see her smile in the sky above the mountains. Her eyes lit up with a kind of compassion and wisdom that caused a small warmth to play in Draco's heart and the faintest of smiles to cross his lips.
The door to the compartment slid open with a squeak, erasing any signs of happiness or comfort from his face. Draco snapped his head around, ready to hex the creature that had disturbed his state to euphoria. When his eyes laid on Hermione Granger, he was too shocked with her appearance to even mutter a random insult.
Hermione ignored his inquisitive stare and proceeded to store whatever bag she had in the storage space above the seats.
"What happened to you?" Draco finally remarked when he came around seconds later. Hermione didn't reply and rolled her now black eye liner ridden eyes and sat down. Draco couldn't help but gawk at her gothic clothes and make up.
"I asked you a question," he said in aggravation to her silence. Hermione sighed and opened the battered book sitting beside her. She pulled the quill out of her hair that was holding it up in a loose bun and began writing on a blank sheet of paper in the journal resting on her lap.
Draco's temper began to rise. He hated being ignored, especially by someone he considered lower than him. He also hated being withheld from information. He wanted to know what had caused this extraordinary change in the mudblood, but she refused to cooperate. So he resorted to pushing her buttons until he could get the answer he craved.
"Did Potter and Weasel decide what's best for them and finally disregard you once and for all?" he asked with a sneer in his voice. Upon receiving no answer or slightest acknowledgement that he had spoken, he tried again.
"Let me guess, you've finally realized what a piece of nothing you are, and are now dressing the part?"
Nothing.
Draco snorted. She was being stubborn. Giving up he started to turn back to the window, but let one more comment slide off his tongue.
"Wonder who died…"
Hermione stopped writing. Her eyes stayed glued to the journal in front of her and Draco could tell she was trying very hard to steady her breathing. He had struck a nerve. He smirked and folded his arms across his chest, feeling very cocky about his accomplishment.
"So somebody did die?" he drawled. "A family member?" he asked, not really caring. "Must have been somebody close, or else you wouldn't have gone through such… drastic changes."
Hermione stayed silent and gripped her quill harder as he antagonized her.
"A friend? No that would be impossible seeing as you have none…" Draco's patience was wearing thin. Suddenly, the light bulb clicked. He remembered something his father said about some Death Eaters killing off a mudblood family at some point during the summer.
"Your parents?" Draco shot out. Hermione's fists were white from clutching her quill so tightly. "They finally got what was coming to them, eh?"
He knew he shouldn't have said it. That's the thing about Draco Malfoy; there are plenty of things he knew he shouldn't do, but his pompous nature never prevented them from happening.
Before he realized what had happened, he found himself pinned to the seat he was sitting in, and Hermione on top of him choking his throat. She was so small compared to him, it didn't take much to flip her over.
"You fucking bastard!" she screamed as she struggled under his weight. Draco grabbed her arms and pinned them above her head. Hermione continued to scream obscenities at the top of her lungs. Draco could only understand about half of what she was yelling, and he was thoroughly impressed. He didn't think she knew a fraction of the words coming out of her mouth.
The compartment door slammed open and Draco felt a pair of hands rip him off Hermione. He was thrown against the nearest wall hard as his eyes came in contact with a pair of furious emerald green ones.
"What the fuck were you doing to her?" Harry yelled before connecting his fist with Draco's jaw. A blur of red flashed before him as he watched Ron helping Hermione off the seat. Draco hissed.
"She attacked me you piece of worthless shit! I was defending myself!" he argued.
"Yeah, sure looked like that from where we were standing!" Ron yelled, blocking Hermione behind him. She still looked livid and it seemed like she would pounce on Draco again had she been given the chance. Snatching her bag from the overhead compartment, she grabbed her stuff and followed Ron out the room. Harry threw Draco back down on the seats and left without another word.
Draco rubbed his sore jaw and groaned.
What a great way to start off the year.
"I'm fine! Honestly!" Hermione shrieked. Ever since they had left the train Harry and Ron had been pestering her about what had happened in the compartment with Draco. Hermione didn't feel much like talking about it at all. The words he had said still stung her and she wasn't about to admit it to anyone. Since her parents' funeral, describing Hermione as a recluse would be an understatement. She had hardened into a brick and wouldn't let anyone know how much she was hurting inside.
"Are you absolutely sure he didn't hurt you?" Harry asked.
"Cause if he did I swear I'll kill him!" Ron interjected. Hermione rolled her eyes and continued her way down the hall.
She couldn't help but despise the way people were looking at her. The looks on their faces hinted as if she had grown a horn or something. Most were shocked beyond words. Other's turned to the nearest being and began breaking into a low whisper. Hermione sighed in agitation and ignored them the best she could.
Hermione Granger had always been little Miss Perfect. She was deemed head girl this year which came to no surprise to anyone. In the past she had been modest and very plain. Lavender and Pavarti had broken their necks in getting her to wear the tiniest bit of make up to last year's Yule Ball. Hermione knew that her new look would be very hard for people to swallow. Not that she cared.
The old Hermione was dead along with her old look as far as she could tell.
Reaching the Great Hall, she headed straight to the Gryffindor table.
"Is that Hermione?"
"What happened to Hermione?"
"Love the new look!"
"When did that happen?"
Harry and Ron shot evil looks to anyone who dared press upon the topic of Hermione's clothes. When they had first seen her at the funeral like this, it did come as a stun to them. Harry understood immediately, having seen this trend in the muggle world himself. Ron took a bit more time getting use to it. Neither of them argued with her and supported the change to the best of their ability.
The looks they gave to the students questioning her helped to some degree, but did nothing when the Slytherin table got a look at her. The entire table erupted simultaneously in gasps and laughter. Hermione sat on the table bench with her back facing them. She tuned out the crude comments they shouted across the Great Hall. How hard could it be? They had been doing it since the first year.
"Well check out Miss Know It All!"
"The Gryffindor Princess must have yanked out that pole shoved up her ass!"
"You think Dumbledore will let her stay Head Girl dressed like that?"
It took all of Harry's strength to hold Ron down. He would have killed someone had he the chance to. Shoving him in the bench, Harry mumbled some words that Hermione couldn't hear. Ron instantly calmed down and settled into his seat. He grudgingly took a fork in front of him and occupied his focus and energy in bending it in half with his bare hands. Hermione sighed to herself.
His skin had always been one of his finer attributes. White as a ghost, it had captured the eyes of the vast majority of the female population at Hogwarts. In a way it bothered him, the paleness. He had never envied the ones with tanned skin. He knew the caramel coating wouldn't suit him at all. Not to mention being in sunlight for a certain amount of time tweaked his nerves. He hated sunlight. He hated the day.
But there was still something about the albino qualities of his skin that unnerved him. It wasn't natural, being so pale. Also unnatural were the piercing grayish blue eyes he stared into as we speak. If his skin was his first main attraction, his eyes would defiantly be the bait that reeled his prey in.
Draco knew all of this. He knew how he was overall an abnormal person. He also knew that his stunning looks could get him anything he wanted.
Except her.
The events on the train this morning still shocked him. He never knew Granger had it in her to be so violent. The strength she showed when knocking him down also came unexpectedly. Tenderly he rubbed his sore neck. A very light pink tint was visible as he did so.
Her hands. Her eyes. Her anger. It was beautiful.
Draco grew up in a world of hate. He had lived in a house that thrived on malicious behavior all his life. Anger was not new to him to any degree, but what he had seen in Hermione had in a way startled him. That fear evolved into amusement which soon followed a queer arousal.
A small grin crept upon his lips. He was turned on by Hermione Granger's anger. Sure he had always loved teasing her in the past to see that frustration. During the summers he had longed for the days of returning back to school just so he could begin his torments again. Seeing her flustered in irritation had always pleased him. But this was different.
What she had shown wasn't just irritation or annoyance. It was pure anger. It was hate. The way she had leaped out of her seat and tried to strangle him was nothing more than abhorrence. Draco predicted that if she was strong enough, she would have gladly made the choice to kill him.
Draco's grin widened. This revelation satisfied him beyond imagination. To most, it would be a scary thought that someone could be capable of taking their life. To Draco it was a whole other ball game.
It meant she wasn't the untainted Hermione Granger anymore. It meant she wasn't the same girl that would only use deadly tactics for defense. It meant she wasn't a saint.
It meant there was a chance she could turn evil.
No doubt she had it in her now. Her parents were dead. They had been murdered, she witnessed it with her own eyes. With time and the right opportunity, Draco knew he could change her. She would make a wonderful asset to the Dark Side.
Draco hummed with pleasure. As for now he would give anything to have her hands around his neck again, amongst other things.
Voices rung muffled outside the bathroom door. He quickly erased the smile on his face and replaced it with his normal look of loathing and disgust. Using his wand, he concealed the pink marks plaguing his perfect porcelain skin. Leaving the bathroom, he marched to his room, having no appetite for the grand feast in the Great Hall.
For now, he only wanted to be alone in peace so he could contemplate the new ideas stirring in his head.