Thanks for all your reviews! Anyway, I'm sorry these last two chapters have been short, but I'm updating very regularly to make up for it. Today's chapter in particular was written during one my the lectures I attended today so it's pretty short. But fun things happen so read on!
Disclaimer: Saddly, I still don't own these characters. I can only attribute to myself my interpretations of them which, in the end, are based on the creative genius of JK Rowlin.
Chapter 4:
Draco woke up, startled, at the sounds of the horns announcing that they'd be arriving at Hogwarts within half hour. He stretched leisurely, yawning as he stared out the window at the English countryside that rushed past him. It has been a very pleasant trip, more than he had expected it to be considering his head boy duties.
'Wait...' he thought to himself, the screws and bolds in his brain finally tightening away the last bits of drowsiness as realization started to kick in. His head boy duties! If only to add to the moment, Hermione chose that exact time to stroll back into the room, humming to herself the Sorting Hat's last years song, as she moved to her side of the room.
"Oh! Good morning!" she exclaimed, trying not to giggle as she noticed the ink stain on Draco's cheek. If he hadn't noticed that he'd fallen asleep on a quill, she sure wasn't about to tell him. "Don't worry about the head boy duties. I have everything under control" she added, letting more than a tad bit of cockiness slip into her speech as a force of habit when confronting Malfoy. Not the wisest decision for, in response, he snapped.
"Ah! I should have known!" he lashed at her, standing up and ignoring his second realization of the day: that his hands were slightly smudged with ink and that his face, consequentially, was probably covered in it too. It put him in a slight disadvantage to look like that when confronting Granger, but he couldn't care less. He was not gonna let this slide. "Let me tell you something, mudblood. I know you feel you are Miss High and Mighty and consequentially must dive into your work to compensate for your personal failings, but that is none of my business. I am head boy. Don't try to undermine that just to make yourself feel better. And don't try to do extra credit for the sake of looking good for the students. We all know that, all act aside, you are nothing". The moment he saw the look on her face he regretted having said that. He knew a lot more than she allowed other to know, the few words in her diary had been illuminating in understanding her. It was ... wrong... to sink down to such a level, especially when he was commenting on many things he himself was guilty of. And yet, he was surprised to see that, his strong words aside, she didn't back down.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Malfoy" she snarled, her face stone cold. Only the small break in her voice as she spoke let on how much he'd hurt her. He knew he was in for it, bad. "Forgive me, King of the Highs and Mightys for having thought of the possibility that you might appreciate the extra sleep. How dare I think you might appreciate a nice gesture! Apparently your lack of friends has made your forget what that means. Quite alright though. No harm done. I know by now that, if anything, you yourself disrespect, insult, and put others down to make up for your own personal failings. But if thinking so lowly of me helps you sleep better at night, while you cry yourself asleep over your pathetic life and the meaningless existence of your father and his cohorts, be my guest". She looked him over once more, with a looked that gleamed with anger and, what was that? Disappointment? Turning away, she stormed out of the room, leaving him angry, hurt, and for the first time in a long time, ashamed of his own actions.
'Me? Ashamed? Ha' kicked in his better half, pushing away any thought he might have had of actually apologizing and, even worst, being nice to Herm... Granger. No, they would return to their diss sprees in between classes and avoid each other when forced to collaborate as head boy and girl. There was no need for anything else. He would put this entire conversation away, forget about the entire bloody day and all it's unwanted revelations. So what if she understood him? So what if those few words in her diary had exposed to him what seemed to be a kindred spirit? She was still the same mudblood, Potter loving, book worm she'd always been. And he... he was still the son of a death eater, the reigning prince of Slytherin, and the single most miserably sad boy in the entirety of Hogwarts. 'Just one more year' he repeated to himself. 'Just one more year...'
