Hermione shook from head to foot with thundering rage, her breath coming out in ragged pants, hot tears staining her cheeks.
The nerve of that little bastard!
She knew Malfoy would be a challenge, but she hadn't expected such an incessant onslaught in the few hours he'd been here, nor did she think he'd still be so set in his ways. Had the war done nothing to change him? Had watching the atrocities at the hands of Voldemort really not helped him develop? The way he talked down to her still... exactly how he used to treat her at Hogwarts. The same nasty slurs and bigoted intolerance.
And that word...
The word that should've meant nothing to her other than schoolyard bullying. But inside, her gut twisted at its mention. It meant a price on her head. A death sentence for her, and so many like her.
Mudblood.
Mudblood.
Mudblood.
She shouldn't let it affect her so, but it was difficult. When she heard that word, she was reminded of war. Of segregation, oppression and death.
And so many of the prejudiced few had not... would not learn from it. They had taken lives... the lives of her friends. And they would do it again. There is still unimaginable hate in the world. And part of that hate now resided with her.
Perhaps he didn't deserve redemption.
Hermione smudged away her distressed tears and moved to wash her face in the bathroom, splashing herself with cold water in a vain attempt to collect herself.
On a sigh she dabbed her face with a towel, trudged to her room and got undressed into her favourite pyjama shorts and an old Quidditch Jersey. She climbed into bed and propped herself up against her pillows. It was only quarter to five, but she reasoned that a good rest and an early night wouldn't hurt.
She plucked her current book from her nightstand and immersed herself in the pages of D'Artagnan and the Musketeers, forgetting about Malfoy and his bullshit.
.
.
He could feel the hairs on his arm stand on end and the shiver that rattled through him as his Aunt Bella hissed in his hear. She was egging him on... coaxing him to kill.
Do it Draco...
Her putrid breath smothered his senses. The night air chilled him to the bone and his stomach swirled. He felt sick.
Dumbledore stood before him, appearing older and frailer than Draco could ever recall, yet he looked like salvation. But Draco couldn't reach him. He couldn't take the escape he longed for so badly.
The elderly wizard was unprotected. Disarmed by him. Surrounded by Death Eaters, yet he showed no fear, and still his eyes remained kind and gentle as he addressed Draco softly.
Draco, you are not a killer.
He felt panic begin to rise in his chest. His body was shaking and he could only whimper like an injured crup.
Suddenly, Dumbledore morphed into Voldemort right before his eyes, as a Boggart would when confronting a new victim. The Dark Lord's words slithered in the air, choking him in fear as thick as smoke.
Coward.
Draco was immobilised with fright.
You are a failure, boy. Just like your father.
He tried to run, but he couldn't. His feet were moulded to the floor. He tried to call for help but his vocal cords were sticking together. The edges of his vision started to blacken as Voldemort's eyes glowed dangerously scarlet. His aunt was cackling now, the sound assaulted his eardrums. The Death Eaters began to close in around him and the icy wind whipped through the Astronomy Tower, washing over him as though he was surrounded by Dementors. He screamed but no sound left him as he tried to cast a Shield charm. But it was too late.
Avada Kedavra!
He was sitting up in flash and his eyes broke open. It was pitch black, he couldn't see a thing. Panting, palming away the sweat from his brow, he shivered from the cold. There was an overwhelming pain shooting through his skull. He frantically twisted his body, trying to see something. Anything.
He must be dead...he must be. The green light had engulfed him. His breathing started to calm as he slowly came to remember he was in Granger's flat. Not dead. Just a nightmare...
But he still couldn't see. Maybe he was blind? No. No, he was just panicking. Being stupid... It was just dark, that's all.
He was wide awake now. He was okay. He had thought for a moment that The Dark Lord's curse had gotten him. That would explain the darkness and the pain.
Suddenly his memory caught up to him and he recalled an angry witch furiously brandishing her wand at him. Though, he couldn't recall much after that, except confusion, surprise and pain. And then nothingness... She must have knocked him out.
Fucking Granger!
He shuddered, repressing the memory of The Tower. No wonder that's what he'd dreamt of! The last thing he'd seen was an offensive wand aimed straight at his chest. Fucking Granger.
It was her fucking fault.
Realising he was on the floor, Draco moved onto his knees and began feeling around blindly for the end of the bed. Finding it, he used it to stand up straight, his body protesting from the ache of his fall.
He turned on the spot and shuffled forward cautiously with his arms outstretched. When his fingers made contact with what felt like the door, he was surprised to find that seemed to be intact. Though Granger probably fixed it whilst she stood over his unconscious body.
Bitch.
He fumbled for the handle and turned it, feeling relieved as a stream of gentle white light filled the crack he'd made the doorway. The pain throbbing in his skull caused him to squint a little, but he was grateful that he could finally see. At least he definitely wasn't blind.
He poked his head out of the door to find the living room empty. If the dark was anything to go by, Draco assumed that Granger must have gone to bed.
Moonlight streamed through the tall windows, bathing the entire flat in a silvery glow. Draco stepped out of the doorway intending to find a clock. Eventually, he located one on the wall above the mantle. Two in the morning.
For fuck's sake.
Draco knew he should probably return to bed, but the shuddering memory of his most recent nightmare stifled his temptation to sleep right now. The muted aches and pains running through him and the cold sweat sticking to his skin called him to the shower.
The bathroom window was small and no light penetrated the room, so it was as dark in here as it was in his room. But Draco needed to wash. He refused to get into bed in this state. He decided that his only option was to leave the bathroom door open a crack and hope to Merlin that he didn't wake Granger.
Giving a quick, anxious look back at the door, Draco undressed and stepped into the shower only then encountering a new problem...
No taps.
What the Hell?
Bloody Muggle shite. How was he supposed to turn this thing on? He turned on the spot a few times, searching around for sign of how to turn on the water before he spotted a white box on the wall.
He could just make out a small dial and a button on it's front. Draco twisted the dial, but nothing happened. Instead, he pressed the button and the water came down on him instantly. It was freezing.
He jumped violently out of the shower, almost slipping on the tile floor and he became frustrated. The prospect of a cold shower wasn't thrilling but he had no idea how to make it warmer and he was apprehensive of touching the box again. He took a deep breath and stepped back in the shower. He slowly inched himself under the ice-cold jets, each droplet stabbing at him like hailstones. It forced a gasp from his lips as his body acclimatised to the temperature.
Ignoring his chattering teeth and shivering, Draco looked around something to wash with. Finally settling on a bottle that seemed to contain liquid soap of some kind. Draco squeezed a generous amount into his hand and lathered it into his hair with vigor, when his hands came into contact with a bump on his head and he hissed. He removed his hands from his hair in a snap and inspected them, seeing a mixture of white lather and a swirl of something dark.
Blood.
He must have smacked his head when Granger knocked him out.
That fucking Mudblood bitch!
Taking care not to touch the sore area, Draco continued to shower, unable to keep his mind from drifting back to Granger.
Stupid fucking cow. How dare she curse me?! As soon as I get my wand back, I'm coming for that bitch.
After around 20 minutes of scrubbing himself raw with anger, he could take no more, and so he pressed the button on the white box again, successfully turning off the water and stepping out of the shower.
He grabbed a towel from a nearby shelf, scrubbing at his wet hair and, once again, hurting his head, causing himself more pain and colourful thoughts toward Granger.
Giving up with his hair, he wrapped the towel around himself. He picked up his discarded clothes and quietly left the bathroom to retire to his bedroom. He tossed the clothes and towel in a pile on the floor and slowly shuffled his way to bed, not bothering to put any pyjamas on. Not that he could find any if he tried right now, given that it was still black as pitch in his room.
He was also still in a strop about Granger and what she did to his head. For once, he just wanted to sleep and forget all about his pain-in-the-arse roommate. Although it stung him to admit it, Granger was right. He shouldn't have slept the day away as he wasn't particularly tired now, and the cold shower probably hadn't helped.
Fantastic, he thought, sarcastically.
This only fueled his irritable mood, but it was too early and too dark to do anything. So Draco had little choice but to lay there under his quilt, close his eyes and will his body to relax and fall into unconsciousness.
.
.
Hermione woke at the sound of her alarm. Sunlight streamed through the crack in her curtains and warmed her. A small smile quirked the corners of her lips.
Switching off the clock, she could hear the gentle sound of twittering birds and the bustle of passers-by on the street below. She felt well rested and refreshed, having gone the entire night without a single nightmare, and without the aid of pills or potions. This instantly put her in a good mood.
She wondered if using Malfoy as an outlet for her anger yesterday attributed to this good night's sleep and was a little disappointed that it couldn't be a permanent solution. She giggled to herself at the idea that Malfoy bashing was actually very therapeutic.
Hermione hoped that her high would continue as she practically jumped out of bed and bounded from her room to enter the bathroom for her morning shower.
Alas, this was where her good mood stopped as she pulled the light cord, and promptly slipped straight onto the hard tiles with a loud yelp as soon as she stepped over the bathroom threshold.
Her lower back met the cold of the tile floor and she gasped at the bruising crunch.
What on Earth...?
She hissed with pain, massaging her sore coccyx as she struggled back to her feet scanning around the bathroom, huffing at her sodden pyjama shorts. It was an absolute state in here! Firstly, there was water everywhere; all over the bathroom floor. The base of the shower was covered with soap suds and a rusty-coloured puddle of water and her various bottles of bath products were strewn all over it, open and leaking. Half of her towels had somehow rolled off the wall rack and onto the wet floor, so they were all completely soaked.
For a minute or two, she stood, bewildered at the mess, eventually concluding that Malfoy must have showered and then trashed the place. His idea of petty revenge for yesterday afternoon, no doubt.
She growled, carefully treading around the water and grabbing several clean, dry towels to mop up the puddles, muttering obscenities under her breath. Once finished, she threw the soaked towels into the hamper and turned on the shower to wash away the disgusting remnants of Malfoy's shower.
Hermione pulled the shower head down, grimacing as she began rinsing away the foul puddle of God only knows what. Honestly, she wasn't asking much, but for a little respect toward her home. So he'd obviously decided to go completely against that in a pathetic display of protest.
Well, she wasn't going to put up with it. She would have it out with him at the next convenient opportunity.
She finished rinsing the soap, replaced the running shower head on its hook and turned the temperature up. As she was waiting for the water to heat up, she left the bathroom in search of her mobile phone.
She would have to call her assistant and ask her to open up shop, because, once again, she was running late.
Finding her phone on the end table in her living room, she dialled the number, huffing to herself.
So much for a good day.
.
.
Draco woke to the sound of a muffled voice. His room was now filled with light so he must have gotten a few hours sleep at least. Though, once again, his sleep had been Disturbed by her. Odd though, he could only hear her voice and no recipient.
Must be talking to herself then, the nutcase.
He laid still for a few minutes until he could no longer hear her talking. His irritation suddenly wormed back into his head - which was still aching from her vicious assault - and he decided that getting up now to confront the little cow about attacking him was a great idea.
He swiftly rose from his bed and rummaged through his bag for some clothes, settling on a pair of black boxers, black slacks and a white Oxford. He strode over to his door as he closed the last few buttons on his shirt. He opened the door, finding Granger bustling about in a hideous blue bath robe, her riotous hair flailing madly in her bustling wake. She hadn't even noticed him.
"Honestly, Granger, are you physically incapable of being quiet?" he asked sharply, feeling satisfaction watching her jump at the sound of his voice.
Her hand flew to her chest and she whirled around to face him. "God, Malfoy, you made me jump!"
"Good. What the bloody fuck are you doing this time then?" he asked impatiently, propping himself against the doorframe and folding his arms over his chest. "Getting ready for a meeting with the dimwitted-duo?"
"Don't call them that! And no, I'm getting ready for work. I told you yesterday, I work-"
"And I told you, I don't care." he interrupted. "Seriously though, are you ever likely to shut up?" he asked snidely, stepping toward her, "You might be okay with walking around looking like a fucking Inferius, but some of us actually enjoy rest."
"What, need your beauty sleep, eh Malfoy?" retorted Granger, looking down her nose at him.
"Well, after cracking my head open yesterday Granger, I would begrudgingly agree with you that a little beauty sleep wouldn't go amiss. Though I highly doubt that sleep alone will cure my broken skull." he retorted scathingly, giving her a demeaning smirk.
Draco watched as her angered expression shifted to one of remorse and she hung her head slightly.
Well, good. She bloody well should have the decency to look apologetic.
"I'm sorry" she whispered.
That took him aback. He wasn't expecting her to actually apologise. Still, he wasn't going to let her get off lightly. She'd drawn blood for Salazar's sake.
"What was that Granger?" he cupped his hand over his ear. "I'm afraid my head injury might have impaired my hearing. Speak up!"
"I'm sorry, Malfoy!" she repeated louder. "I honestly didn't mean to injure you that way."
"But you did mean to injure me?" he probed. "I deserve a better apology than that, don't you think? Nevermind you almost killed me, but the fact that you deemed yourself within your rights to attack me in the first place is worthy of some serious arse-kissing."
She blanched, her face contorting back to anger. "I - you - ugh! You really are such an insufferable wanker! I apologised Malfoy and that's that. I will not grovel to anyone, especially to the likes of you! And yes, I was fully within my rights to attack you. You provoked me!"
"Provoked you?" Draco chuckled mirthlessly. "How pathetic. I throw a couple of insults at you and your response is to attack a wandless, defenseless wizard?" he tutted, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. "And I thought you were better than that, Golden Girl."
"Well you would know all about attacking wandless, defenseless wizards, wouldn't you?
She looked as though she wanted to inhale the words back in as soon as they left her mouth. Draco's smirk fell and his eyes turned stoney. A few beats of awkward silence passed between them before Granger finally spoke.
"I... I didn't mean that-"
"No, Mudblood, you fucking well meant it and you know it." he snapped. "Just like you meant to draw blood yesterday. Drop the piss-poor, goody-two-shoes act with me, it doesn't fucking wash."
"I - I made you bleed?"
"That's what I said."
"Oh... Malfoy, I really am sorry. For that and for this. What I said was uncalled for... and I honestly didn't mean to hurt you yesterday... especially not that badly."
She legitimately seemed remorseful. But Draco wasn't going to fall for it. She couldn't just say sorry for almost killing him and expect him to bend. He didn't believe her purity act like all her moronic friends and he didn't believe she really was sorry.
"Just fucking drop it, Granger-"
"Let me heal your head at least!" She rushed out. "Please, Malfoy-"
"No." he said firmly.
"But it could be infected-"
"I said no, Granger! I don't think I trust you with a wand around my valuable body parts."
She smirked, elevating a brow. "Valuable?"
"Yes. Not that you would know a lot about being valuable, would you?"
She huffed indignantly. "God, you are such a prick! I apologised twice and offered to help you and you still have to be a tosser."
"And you still present yourself as this holier-than-thou fucking Saint, when really you're just a vindictive little bitch. You take this almighty high road so you can justify yourself when you dish out your own version of justice."
She gaped at him. "That is not-"
"And you only offered to help me to assuage your own guilt!" he blew out a humourless puff of laughter. "Honestly, Granger, you're a hypocrite. Your words don't hold the weight you think they do." he sneered.
"Neither does half of the bigoted crap you insist on spewing, yet you never seem to change your tune." she countered, turning her nose up.
"Why would I? I like this tune." he taunted.
"Whatever, Malfoy." She rolled her eyes again. "Look, I am sorry. Believe it or don't, I don't actually care. But I don't have time for any more of this, I'm going to be late for work." Granger pulled her robe more tightly around herself and stomped toward the bathroom. "Although, I'm sure you knew that anyway." she muttered under her breath.
"What was that, Granger?" he goaded.
She stopped in her tracks, hands clenched in the material of her robe. She turned to him, looking scornful.
"You know perfectly well what you did, Malfoy."
Draco regarded her impatiently. "I have no idea what you're on about, Granger and to be perfectly candid, I don't care. Though given your lone conversation this morning, I assume that you've finally lost your shit altogether and you don't actually know what you're talking about."
She lifted a brow at him. "Lone conversation?"
"Yes, are you deaf as well?" he rolled his eyes, "You woke me up, talking to yourself." he said, pointedly.
She sighed dramatically. "I wasn't talking to myself, Malfoy, I was on the phone."
Draco just stared at her. She was what now? "You were on what?"
"Oh, yes... I- I suppose you wouldn't know..." she said thoughtfully.
"I wouldn't know what?" he demanded, "Don't fucking call me stupid Granger-"
"I'm not calling you stupid!" She tutted. "A phone is a device Muggles use to communicate with one another. Similar to fire calls, except you can only hear their voice."
Draco really wanted to ask more about this... 'phone' thing, but she cut his thoughts off with her shrill tone.
"Anyway, what I was talking about was you trashing my bathroom! You know fully well that you did. You did it on purpose as some infantile punishment for hexing you yesterday!" She crossed her arms, seething at him.
He blinked back at her, furrowing his brows at her offending accusation. "I didn't trash your bathroom-!"
"I spent half an hour cleaning up the mess you made. I actually slipped over on the water you left everywhere!" She yelled, her hands gesturing madly between him and the bathroom.
"I took a shower, you crazy bitch, that was it! If I made a mess, then it's your own fault!"
Her eyes widened comically. "My fault?"
"Yes, Mudblood, your fault! If your Muggle hole wasn't so archaic and you had any sort of lighting, then I might've had an easier time showering without fumbling around like a blind-worm!" Draco argued, his face flushing heatedly.
Granger just stared back at him, not saying a word. Her eyes sparked suddenly and her mouth formed a small 'o' shape.
"Oh." Her face softened. "Oh, I understand now... Malfoy, there's a light switch."
"A what?" he sneered.
"A light switch." she responded simply.
Draco stared at her again through creased brows. Was she fucking with him or something? A light... switch. A switch... for a light? How the fuck is that possible?
"You really must think I was born yesterday, Mudblood," he sneered, his voice dangerously low.
She rolled her eyes at him. "No, Ferret-Boy, I think you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, but that's a different story altogether." she rebuffed, crossly.
"Born with... what?"
"Nevermind. I'm not messing with you, Malfoy. I'll show you." She gestured with her head for him to follow her over to the bathroom door.
Draco remained where he stood as Granger walked to the bathroom, opened the door and turned to beckon him over again.
"Look, here" she pointed in the doorway and Draco took a few chary steps over to the bathroom. Giving her a warning glare, he poked his head through the doorway to see her pointing at a thin cord hanging from the ceiling with a white ceramic ball attached to the end.
"That's a light switch. Though they don't all look like that, of course... Pull it."
He looked back at her mistrustfully. It seemed such a simple thing but Draco still had this feeling that she was fucking with him. Some weird way of making him look a fool.
She huffed. "For God's sake!" She leant across him, whipping him in the face with her curls as she went, forcing another wave of that floral scent into his nostrils again. She grabbed the cord and gave it a sharp tug.
A gentle pop and a bright, white light filled the bathroom. Draco barely concealed his shock.
"There. I wasn't having you on. It's another Muggle invention. Obviously they don't have magic to create light and candles are very outdated in the Muggle world." she stated matter-of-factly.
Draco couldn't take his eyes off the bathroom, now lit up by a long tube attached to the ceiling.
"Does my room have one?" he asked, still not moving his bewildered face from the room.
"Yes, though it will look like a small white square on the wall instead of a cord. Those tend only to be in bathrooms." she explained, folding her arms.
He wouldn't ever admit it but he was truly baffled by this muggle thing. He reached out and pulled the cord, jumping slightly at the pop as the light extinguished. He pulled it again, watching the light turn back on. Then off again. Then on.
"Okay, enough, you're wasting electricity!" snapped Granger.
Draco finally turned to her. "What's elec-"
"Look, Malfoy, I really don't have time to explain it, as I've said, you've made me late already by messing up the bathroom so I have to go, alright? Get out of my way!" She pushed past him aggressively to get to the bathroom.
"Oi, don't fucking push-!"
She successfully manoeuvred him and slammed the door, cutting him off. He pounded his fist into the door.
"Fuck you, Mudblood!"
He stood there, seething at the white door separating them for a few moments before conceding that she wasn't going to come back out of the bathroom. Giving up with fighting her, he stomped off back to his room to see if he could find his own light switch.
