Disclaimer: I do not own anything!
A/N: WELP, I actually did it. I'm nervous as hell with this new fic but eh, I'm too far gone to chicken out now. After posting my one-shot "Library Rendezvous" (please totally check that out), I wasn't satisfied and fleshed out an actual novel. Well, this will be a bit short, maybe 8-10 chapters at least, but still, multi-chaptered.
So, here it is. This will be a Dramione genderswap fanfic. It may not be your cup of tea, but maybe give this a try? If you would like to get the hang of it first, I really suggest you read "Library Rendezvous" first before starting this fic. I tried to stick to canon but tweaked some things. I'm not going to recount all the things that had happened in the book so if it wasn't mentioned in this fanfic, assume that it did occur.
Again, choosing Hermione's male name is really easy. I chose a flower name for Draco instead of a constellation or any variations of 'Draco' because I thought that Narcissa would want to name her daughter. Remember, Narcissa was the only Black with a non-constellation name so why not her daughter too?
Before you read, this isn't Beta-Ed. English is my second language so you might spot grammatical errors. Medical school doesn't reinforce English rules and stuff after all.
Give this a try pleaseeeee. Enjoy!
Title: Through the Years
Author: WickedlyAwesomeMe
Language: English
Form: Multi-chaptered
Genre: Romance/Gender
Rating: T. Rating may change.
Warning:
Pairing: Male!Hermione Granger/Female!Draco Malfoy
Summary: Hermes Granger fervently believed that Malfoy's sole purpose in life was to make his life a living hell. Dramione! Male!Hermione Granger/Female!Draco Malfoy. Companion piece to "Library Rendezvous".
Hermione Granger = Hermes Granger
Draco Malfoy = Iris Malfoy
All other characters retain their gender
Chapter One: First Year
Hermes Granger stared with wide eyes as the humongous scarlet Hogwarts Express greeted him when he passed through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10.
He glanced behind him and there was a slight disappointment in his heart when his parents were unable to pass through the barrier. Of course, as Muggles, they were barred from doing so. Still, it would have been wonderful if they were to behold this lovely magic with him.
The disappointment was quickly replaced by excitement as a loud whistle from the train resounded in the whole platform, signalling its impending departure. Hermes quickly pulled his heavy trunk, murmuring apologies after hitting some stranger, before finally hauling his chest into the train.
Loud chatters scattered throughout the train and he peeked at each small window, hoping to find an empty compartment.
Growing up as a Muggle, he wondered how it felt like to be introduced to magic at a very young age. His eyes couldn't help but widen every time he spied nifty tricks done by older students. The wand inside his pocket tingled and with a rush of adrenaline, Hermes pocketed his hand and grasped his very own wooden wand – 10 ¾ inches long, vine wood, with a dragon heartstring core.
He had been itching to try using his wand all summer, but because of the International Statute of Secrecy prohibiting underage magic outside Hogwarts, he had no other choice but to read through his textbooks instead. Mr Granger pointed out he was practically inhaling all information and told him to enjoy his last few days of summer instead of reading his book. But how could he not? Magic was undoubtedly the most fascinating thing that had ever happened to him. Learning new things was practically his hobby, and so his parents finally left him alone to discover new knowledge for this world that had been nonexistent for him just a few months ago.
"Sorry, do you have company?" he asked, lifting his chin a little to show that he wasn't nervous at all. Inside the small compartment was a pretty blonde girl that, like him, only wore black robes—definitely a first year.
"Go away," she said with a glower. "These seats are taken."
He frowned, glancing at the empty seats beside her. She was the only one inside the compartment. "There are no people inside," he said, already stubbornly dragging his trunk inside.
The girl then suddenly stood on her fullest height and snootily stared him down. Hermes' frown deepened, noting that she was a few inches taller than him.
"I said go away," she grounded out once more.
Hermes, not really wanting to make enemies on his very first day, rolled his eyes and finally pulled his trunk outside. The girl snapped it shut with a resounding thud, prompting him to jerk in surprise slightly.
"Git," he murmured under his breath and moodily continued his search for an empty compartment.
If people in this school were like that girl in that compartment, then he wasn't looking forward to starting in Hogwarts after all.
Back in his previous muggle school, he didn't have any friends. His classmates thought he was weird, nose always buried behind books during recess when everybody else was outside and playing with swings and slides and seesaws. When Hermes asked his mother one time why no one wanted to read books with him, because books held more adventure than anything he had ever seen in real life, Mrs Granger only smiled at him and told him he was special. And he should at least try to take the first step and ask them if they wanted to be his friends. That maybe he should set aside his book first and try to push a classmate on the swing or offer to be the other half on the seesaw.
And he tried, bless him, he really, really tried because he wanted friends too. But there were times when something strange would happen – pushing his classmates a little too high with a strange wind that would knock them out of their seats or keeping his classmate stuck mid-air on the seesaw, unable to bring him down no matter what they did.
By then, nobody wanted to be his friend anymore because someone was always bound to get hurt. Hence, Hermes Granger retreated to his books. At least, with his books, no one was judging him. No one was getting hurt.
That was really okay for him.
Thus, when he turned eleven and a strange letter from an unknown school arrived at their house, all the weird things that were happening around him finally made sense. Magic made sense. Finally, there was a school with kids like him and then perhaps, he could finally make friends.
This was in his mindset for the whole summer, learning plenty about the Wizarding World to impress the new students that he would meet and maybe meet someone that would like to be his friend.
Remembering about the rude girl a while ago, Hermes scowled and sulkily continued his hunt for an empty compartment. Of course he should have expected he would mess up that plan on his first day.
When he chanced a glance at another compartment, he saw students laughing raucously at a boy on all fours with tears streaming down his eyes, seemingly searching for something.
He pushed the compartment door open without any hesitation, ignoring his trepidation when all eyes settled on him.
"Hello," he said, eyes intently glued on the crying boy. "What's wrong?"
The boy, also in his first year judging from his robes, noisily sniffed and haphazardly wiped his face with the back of his hand. "M-my pet toad," he cried. "Trevor. I can't… I can't find him." More fat tears rolled down from his plump cheeks, despondently crawling out of the compartment he was previously in. "Gran was right. I-I can't take care of anything."
"I'll help you find him," he volunteered immediately. The poor boy looked at him with wide, surprised eyes. "I'm Hermes Granger, by the way."
The other boy eyed his outstretched hand before meekly grasping it and giving it a slight shake. "N-Neville Longbottom," he said.
"Neville," he echoed with a smile. "Well, I think it is best if you start looking at that side, while I start to look at this side. We can find him immediately with that plan."
Neville tearfully looked at him and gave him a shaky smile. "O-okay," he stuttered, then bounded to where Hermes told him to go.
Hermes dragged his trunk behind him and smiled at the trolley lady that passed by him. His stomach grumbled, remembering he hadn't had breakfast that morning due to excitement, but decided he would look for Neville's pet toad first.
He quickly walked towards the compartment where the trolley lady had been, its door already opened. Two boys already occupied the room – a redheaded boy with weird dirt on his nose, and a raven-haired boy wearing too baggy clothes and thick glasses that had a tape wrapped around its middle.
"Has anyone seen a toad?" he asked, eyes already searching throughout the compartment for any telltale sign of said pet. "A boy named Neville has lost one." He spied the rat sitting on the redhead's lap and frowned—first a pet toad, now a pet rat. Wizards really had weird tastes.
The two boys shared a look then looked back at him, shaking their heads.
Hermes sighed in disappointment. This would be a long search.
"Don't slouch, Iris."
"Yes, Father."
"And for Merlin's sake, stop gaping. That is very unbecoming."
"Yes, Father."
"Are you even listening to me? Look at me when I'm talking to you, Iris."
Eleven-year-old Iris Malfoy expelled a deep sigh, straightened her back, and schooled all of her emotions before looking directly at the eyes of formidable Lucius Malfoy. "Yes, Father," she mechanically answered once more, heart twinging a little in pain when he merely looked down at her disapprovingly and looked away.
Sighing softly to herself once more, she looked back at the Hogwarts Express, this time with concealed excitement and awe because, as what her father had graciously pointed a while ago, gaping was very unbecoming of a Malfoy.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and stiffened, Narcissa Malfoy's warm, gentle hand jolting her in surprise, before she quickly shrugged it off and walked hastily towards the train. Anything short of being dignified was also unbecoming of a Malfoy. Iris learned at a very young age that showing affection in public already fell on that category.
After a stiff goodbye and a promise from Lucius that she would be punished if she did not do well in her studies, a moody Iris Malfoy stomped throughout the corridors of the train. She ripped the first compartment door open and glared at the excited first years giggling to themselves, already exchanging stories about their summer. Their conversation immediately died down upon seeing her.
"Get out," she snapped. When one girl with blonde, curly hair scowled and stood up from her seat, Iris pierced her with a stern glare. "Now."
It gave her the satisfaction when she flinched, scowl still in place. She looked at her other friends and gestured them out, followed by a loud hmph when they passed by Iris.
Finally alone, Iris dumped her trunk on the floor and clambered on one of the seats, moodily staring outside the train window. Pansy and the others would be here soon and she hoped they would arrive quickly, if only to distract her from the words her father had drilled into her mind the night before.
"Malfoys are supposed to be the best in everything," he sternly said with eyes that seemed to perpetually convey his disappointment at her. "Best in studies, best in Quidditch, best in everything." He gestured for her to step closer. "You are expected to only surround yourself with people you deem worthy of your presence, people whose alliance with you would be advantageous in the future. Remember these, Iris. Remember that you are always a Malfoy no matter what."
His words echoed in her mind even until she went to bed that night, the pressure behind those words unable to put her to sleep.
She was perhaps five-years-old when she finally understood what it meant to be a Malfoy. She always wondered why she only had to play with Crabbe and Goyle when they were boring and stupid. She always wondered why she could not go to Diagon Alley just to eat ice cream with her family. She always wondered why she could not slouch, why she could not ditch a Malfoy party, why she had to memorise basic Pureblood etiquette, why she could not show any weakness.
She always wondered why her father was very disappointed in everything she did.
It was when she was five, after throwing a terrible tantrum during a ball thrown by the Parkinsons, when her father locked her in her room and told her that she was a Malfoy, that she was power, and everybody else should be beneath her. It was also during that time he told her he wished she was a boy instead, because the Malfoy name effectively ended with her.
Her parents tried for another child, hoping for a boy, but consequently failed. Iris' conception was a delightful surprise, after all, so Lucius had given up and constantly placed pressure on Iris' shoulders so that she would be the perfect little Pureblood Malfoy.
And it was tiring, so tiring, and she just wanted to make her father proud, always thinking that she had done something wrong because her father never seemed proud of her.
Hogwarts, therefore, was an exciting prospect for Iris because at least here she wouldn't be under the constant scrutiny of Lucius Malfoy. That did not mean she could afford to make any mistakes, because Lucius still had eyes in Hogwarts, and would undoubtedly report her every move to her father.
She slumped and scowled. "I can slouch anytime I want, Father," she murmured grumpily at her reflection on the window.
Her compartment door opened and she was about to rant at Pansy for being late, but when a frumpy-looking boy, with impossibly curly, brown hair on top of his head, stood outside, she scowled.
"Sorry, do you have company?" he confidently asked.
"Go away," she instantly said with a glare. "These seats are taken."
"There are no people inside," he pointed out with a frown. The boy was already dragging his trunk inside and something in Iris' snapped. She immediately jumped down from her seat and stood at her fullest height.
"I said go away," she snapped, annoyed that he did not even flinch with her voice. Pansy and the others knew never to mess with her when she was in one of her moods.
The boy rolled his eyes but finally dragged his trunk away. She angrily snapped her compartment door shut once he was gone and huffily sat back on her seat. Crossing her arms across her chest, she moodily stared out of her window and waited for her so-called friends to arrive.
"It's true then. What they're saying on the train."
Hermes's eyes widened, snapping out from his momentary daze after seeing Hogwarts in all its glory. He recognised the arrogant voice of the girl that had been unbearably rude in the train a while ago.
"Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."
Gasps resounded around the first years as Harry stiffened beside him. Hermes shot the poor boy a glance, knowing that he was uncomfortable being pushed into the limelight.
Hermes then glared at the blonde witch, watching as she daintily slid down from the railing she was sitting on, and smirked prettily at Harry. "This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle," she said, gesturing at the two burly boys that did not look eleven at all.
She sashayed towards Harry, her hair blonde hair billowing behind her, and finally stepped in front of The-Boy-Who-Lived. "And I'm Malfoy," she confidently greeted. "Iris Malfoy."
From beside Harry, Ron groaned. Hermes shot the redhead a glance, wondering if he knew the rude girl.
Iris Malfoy shot a glare at Ron then looked at him from head to toe. Said boy glowered at her gaze, the tips of his ears steadily turning pink. "Red hair, hand-me-down clothes," she spat, a cruel smirk slowly growing on her face. "Definitely a stupid Weasley. Aren't you like the twelfth one to come to Hogwarts from that humongous family of yours?"
"I'm the sixth child," he petulantly muttered, gazing at his shoes in embarrassment.
Malfoy then looked back at Harry, proud smirk still marring her pretty face. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter," she continued. "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort." She gestured herself, her proud smirk growing. "I can help you there."
She then held out her hand, waiting for Harry to shake it but, to Hermes' amusement, Harry merely stared at her proffered hand. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he coolly replied.
Malfoy gaped for a while, before her face twisted into an ugly sneer. Harry had calmly walked away from her now, a beaming Ron immediately following his lead.
Hermes couldn't keep the amused smile growing on his face. He admittedly thought the redhead and the raven-haired boy he met back at the Hogwarts Express were total buffoons; Ron overate candy that would make his parents horrified and Harry laughed at all the atrocious things Ron did. Hermes was hoping for friends he could share books with, people he could study with… not these boys. They definitely didn't like him, Ron most especially.
But Hermes' couldn't help but think they were amusing. Ron's easy-going nature bringing out Harry from his shell of shyness entertained him throughout the train ride.
It would really be nice if they could be friends.
"What the hell are you smiling at?" Iris Malfoy snapped, this time directing her glare at him.
Said smile fell from his face, his eyebrows shooting up to his forehead. Before he could snap back at her, Professor McGonagall was already herding them inside the Great Hall.
All thoughts about Iris Malfoy and her atrocious behaviour left him entirely as he beheld the Great Hall, the Sorting Hat sitting on a stool at the very front.
Hermes Granger was Sorted in Gryffindor.
The Sorting Hat had a hard time deciding where to put him. It suggested Ravenclaw, and Hermes agreed enthusiastically. He had read Hogwarts: A History twice during his break and thought Ravenclaw, the House of the Intelligent, would be the place where he belonged. The friends he longed for, exchanging books and studying in libraries, would most likely be in the Ravenclaw House.
"Oh, but that bravery and loyalty of yours," the Sorting Hat interjected. "Such noble traits. I think you are much better Sorted in… GRYFFINDOR!"
There was a part of him that was disappointed with the Hat's decision as he slid off the stool and bounded towards the Gryffindor table. The Sorting Hat's words still rang in his mind, wondering how he was brave and loyal when all the adventures he underwent were purely through imagination. Such thoughts left him when Harry Potter soon joined the Gryffindor House and sat across him. Harry offered Hermes a weak smile.
Ron Weasley slid on the bench beside Harry soon after, giving him a clap on the back. When he saw that Hermes was also in the Gryffindor House, he made a face and not-so-subtly whispered to Harry that he thought the swot would better be suited in Ravenclaw.
Hermes Granger sighed, completely conquering with the redhead this time.
Iris Malfoy was Sorted in Slytherin.
The Sorting Hat had barely touched the crown of her head when it already blurted out her House, which she didn't mind, really. Her nervousness before the Sorting reached up to the tips of her fingers as she mentally chanted 'Slytherin' over and over again if it could help.
The relief that washed over her form was immense, the proud smirk she had practised countless of times in front of the mirror flawlessly slipping on her face. She slipped down from the stool and walked towards the Slytherin table, flipping her hair away from her face.
As she sat down beside Crabbe and Goyle, she couldn't help but imagine the proud smirk on her father's face.
At least, after being Sorted to Slytherin, there was one less thing her father could be disappointed about.
There were moments when Hermes wished it wasn't Harry and Ron who saved him from that stupid troll.
One prime example of that moment was right now. Harry and Ron were furiously whispering between themselves after they faced-off that humongous, three-headed dog that was on the third floor. Professor Dumbledore specifically told them it was off-limits to students but of course, Harry thought it was brilliant to explore it when the staircases led them to that place. Ron practically worshipped everything that Harry walked on and immediately followed, an excited smile on his face.
Hermes, the only sane in this trio, knew he had no choice but to follow the Two Idiots, if only to keep them alive. After all, if it weren't for Harry and Ron, he would have been troll meat by now.
"Why is there a bloody dog in that room?" Ron asked, perhaps for the umpteenth time, and looked at Harry as if he knew all the answers in the world.
But Harry merely shook his head, a deep frown on his face. "I have no idea," he said. Then, glancing at Ron, he said, "I thought Hogwarts was one of the safest places in the Wizarding World? I don't think that monstrous dog can be considered safe."
"There's a reason why Dumbledore said that corridor was off-limits," Hermes snapped, glowering at the two. "We could have been killed."
"But we're still alive," Ron said with a roll of his eyes. "Honestly, Hermes, stop being so overdramatic. You sound like my little sister sometimes."
Hermes sighed and wanted to smack his forehead. They almost died and these two buffoons thought he was overdramatic.
"It's obviously guarding something," he murmured after they clambered inside the Gryffindor Common Room.
"Guarding something?" Ron echoed. "How did you even know?"
"While you two oafs were too busy screaming your heads off, I saw a trap door underneath the dog," Hermes quickly explained. "Maybe you should have observed your surroundings more, Ronald."
Ron glowered. "I was a bit preoccupied with its heads!" he exclaimed in return.
Hermes rolled his eyes and glared at Harry, who was silently snickering beside Ron. He immediately clammed up and looked away from Hermes' glare.
"It was standing on a trap door, which means its guarding something," he continued with a tired sigh. "Of course it is guarding something."
"Know-it-all," Ron murmured under his breath.
"Do you reckon we should find out what it's guarding then?" Harry finally piped in, cutting through their banter.
"NO!" Hermes asked, horrified with his suggestion. They were finally in front of the boy's dormitory and Hermes halted in his steps, sternly looking at his two new friends. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed before either of you come up with a clever idea that could get us killed… or worse, expelled."
Harry blinked at him in surprise while Ron groaned. "He really needs to sort out his priorities," he murmured as Hermes crossed the threshold and slammed the door against their faces.
He quickly walked towards his bed, noting that Neville, Seamus, and Dean were all soundly asleep. Hermes longingly looked at Neville's snoring form, wondering if it would have been better if he sat down with him during the train ride. Now that he, Harry, and Ron took down a troll together, he doubted he'd be able to get rid of those two anytime soon.
As he slipped into his bed and closed his curtains, he heard the bedroom door open. Harry and Ron noisily clambered inside.
"Or worse, expelled," Ron mockingly whispered in the dark while Harry snickered and shushed him for being noisy.
Hermes rolled his eyes and faced away from the door.
As the other two boys settled on their bed, Hermes found himself unable to sleep. After such a tiring situation, he honestly thought he would be dead beat by now.
But no, oh no, his fingers tingled with an energy he hadn't experienced before.
'Adrenaline,' he thought, eyes widening a bit.
Bloody hell, he had so much fun today.
Befriending Harry Potter and Ron Weasley was such a terrible idea.
He really couldn't understand Iris Malfoy at all.
True, she was cute and pretty and the way her hair shined every time she passed by them blinded him sometimes. But then, bloody witch would open her mouth and say mean, hateful things that would mar whatever pretty features she had. It seemed she was extra vicious to Harry now, and by extension to him and Ron since they were steadily becoming his closest friends.
As he watched her bickering with Harry during their flying lessons, taunting him with Neville's Remembrall, he wondered how her Slytherin cronies could stand being with the spiteful witch. Said cronies were busy snickering between themselves, seemingly amused that their Slytherin princess was having fun hurtling insults at the Boy-Who-Lived. And Neville, poor Neville, he just wanted his Remembrall back.
"Give it a rest, Malfoy," Hermes grumbled.
The blonde's impossibly silver eyes landed on him, a dark sneer on her face. "Shut up, Granger," she said.
He ignored her and looked at Harry instead. "She's not worth it, Harry," he warned, seeing the angry glint in his friend's green eyes.
Iris snorted, summoned her broomstick, and rode on it. She deftly kicked off the ground and hovered a few inches above the ground. "If you want to get it back," Iris drawled, "you have to catch it first, Potter."
She steadily rose higher, higher than the ground Hermes dared to go, and zoomed far away. Before he could grab onto Harry's sleeve, he was already on his broom and racing towards the blonde.
"LET'S GO HARRY!" Ron hollered, cupping his mouth with his hands. The other Gryffindors cheered, while Hermes grew nauseous, watching his friend zooming through the sky at such a dangerous height. He was never a fan of heights and it terrified him to pieces when he discovered they had mandatory flying lessons for first years. He was bloody well sure that if he were going to fail at something, flying lessons would undoubtedly be it.
"I think I'm going to get sick," Hermes murmured under his breath.
Iris then did a mighty throw, laughing madly as Harry zoomed past her to catch the Remembrall. Hermes may or may not have squeaked, heart racing a bit, and he had to clench his fists so as not the grab onto Ron in fright. It didn't help at all when Harry made weird stunts mid-air, ridiculously having fun, before finally catching the Remembrall as if he won a bloody game.
The-Boy-Who-Lived pumped his fist in the air, Remembrall safely clutched in his hand. Hermes released a breath he didn't realise he was holding, waiting until Harry's feet were finally safely on the ground. Together with his cheering classmates, Hermes ran toward Harry and smacked him at the back of his head.
"What the hell was that for, Hermes?" Harry whined.
Hermes, despite himself, shook his head. Being Harry Potter's friend was starting to be bad for his health.
His eyes briefly landed on Iris, who caught his gaze and harrumphed away, her long, blonde hair swaying against her back.
"Mr Potter."
The raucous died down immediately as soon as Professor McGonagall broke through the group. Her expression was indecipherable, but judging from what had transpired a while ago, Hermes guessed Harry had done something wrong.
He found it unfair when only Harry was called by Professor McGonagall when Iris Malfoy instigated everything.
"Prof – " he started, but Iris' grip on his arm stopped him from speaking up on behalf of his best friend.
"Don't even think about it, Granger," she sneered. Hermes glanced down at the hand around his arm and frowned. Iris followed his line of vision and made a face, none-too-gently throwing his arm away and quickly going over to her friends.
"Bloody Malfoy," Ron grumbled, sidling up beside Hermes as they made their way back to the broom shed. "How can someone so hateful have a… a face like that?"
"What?" Hermes asked, eyebrows knitted together.
Ron's eyes widened, realising what he had said, and proceeded to turn into a terrible shade of red that clashed with his red hair. "Nothing," he murmured under his breath.
Later that day, when Harry finally came back, Hermes and Ron immediately interrogated him about McGonagall's punishment.
It turned out he wasn't punished at all, that Professor McGonagall was wholly impressed with Harry's flying skills and suggested to Oliver Wood, the current Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, to make Harry the Seeker for their team.
"But, first years aren't allowed to play Quidditch!" Ron sputtered out, his face a mixture of disbelief, amazement, and envy. Hermes wasn't sure which emotion in him dominated. "And… with no tryouts at that!"
Hermes had come across Quidditch a few times in his beloved books. Since he wasn't a fan of said sport, or any sport for that matter, he didn't know anything about it. But Ron was right; first years were banned from joining Quidditch unless they completed their flying lessons with Madame Hooch.
Harry sheepishly shrugged and ran a hand through his already messy hair. "McGonagall said my father used to play Quidditch back when he was a student," he said, absentmindedly pushing his slipping glasses up to the bridge of his nose. "He was a Chaser, I think. She said she didn't doubt I might have inherited his skills."
"Then you would be the youngest Seeker ever," Ron said, clearly more at awe right now. "Blimey, mate, that's brilliant! But, what broom will you use? In case you haven't noticed, the brooms we used during practice weren't exactly Quidditch-friendly."
"McGonagall said I shouldn't worry about it," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders again.
Ron proceeded to describe in detail all the latest models of broomsticks right now, gushing particularly excitedly when he started to explain the wicked features of Nimbus 2000.
Hermes tuned them out and flipped through his Potions book. It seemed like even Professor McGonagall couldn't help having her favourites. He secretly glanced at Harry and sighed. Being the The-Boy-Who-Lived seriously had its perks.
"Think you're so high and mighty now that you've caught your first snitch, huh, Potter?"
Iris, with barely concealed anger, stomped closer to Harry as soon as he, together with his two buffoons he called best friends, laughingly trudged across the Quidditch Pitch to go back to their common room to celebrate their victory.
The stupid trio stopped in their tracks and simultaneously glared at her. Iris took comfort that Crabbe and Goyle, who both were magnificently burlier than her other gangly classmates, were flanking her side. She didn't want to show to these gits that their identical glares made her nervous.
"Last time I checked, Malfoy, Gryffindor bloody won, so of course we're celebrating," Potter snapped back in return.
Her hands curled into tight fists, feeling suddenly irrationally angry. She knew she had a fantastic temper; Pansy once pointed out she hated playing with her the most because when she got mad, she'd destroy everything. But not this kind of angry… this emotion was raw and hateful and evil and she hated all of it. She hated Potter and his stupid friends and their stupid laughs and their stupid jokes. She was supposed to be the one who was happiest always, always, because she was a Malfoy and she had everything and she was a Pureblood.
Sometimes, when she saw the Golden Trio fooling around, she couldn't help but feel that they were mocking her – the girl who messed up her very first attempt to make a frie – no, an acquaintance. Her current acquaintances only became her friends because they were Purebloods and her father approved of them. She just wanted to write home and tell her father that she had befriended Harry Potter, that The-Boy-Who-Lived thought she was the best thing that had ever happened in Hogwarts, and her father would be so proud of her. But then, stupid Weasley had to ruin everything and now she hated them all.
And Granger! How could a mudblood with ridiculous hair and frumpy clothes become best friends with the hero of the Wizarding World? Granger was ordinary, he had no connections whatsoever and the only thing he could boast of was that stupid brain of his. So what if he answered all the questions in their classes? So what if he could get a spell after just a few tries? So what if he was steadily becoming the reason why Gryffindor was neck-to-neck against Slytherin for the House Cup due to accumulating a ridiculous amount of points?
Iris could do all of it. She could bloody well beat Granger in her studies if she tried extra harder.
Why couldn't Potter see that?
"No witty comeback, Malfoy?" Granger asked, quirking an eyebrow as an amused smile grew on his face.
She shook with anger and glared at the boys. "Shut up, Granger," she snarled, turned around and stomped back to the castle, Crabbe and Goyle hastily catching up with her.
"Girls are so bloody mental," she heard Weasley say, prompting the others to snicker under their breaths. "Ginny throws monumental tantrums over the most stupidest things."
"Just 'stupidest'," Granger corrected.
"What?"
"Never mind, Ronald."
"Race you to the Gryffindor Common Room, wankers!" Potter then exclaimed while laughing.
Iris halted in her steps, hands still curled into her fists at her side. Crabbe and Goyle almost collided against her but she calmly moved aside, letting the buffoons fall on top of each other on the ground.
She quickly peeked back, heart clenching at the sight of the Golden Trio laughing loudly and racing through the Quidditch Pitch.
Maybe she shouldn't have been quick in insulting Weasley at that moment. Weasley actually makes stupidly funny jokes that almost took her an enormous effort not to laugh. Maybe she shouldn't comment too much about Granger's ridiculous hair, or his blood status, or his general swottiness. Granger always got the highest marks in their essays and it took all of her willpower to stop herself from asking him what sources she could use. Her essays could use some improvement, and then her father would be prouder.
Realising where her thoughts were bringing her, she angrily pushed those thoughts away and scowled. They were exactly the kind of people her father warned her not to associate herself with.
She stiffened when Potter and Granger loudly laughed at another stupid comment Weasley made.
Potter should have accepted her friendship when she had graciously offered it to him.
They could have loads of fun, too.
Hermes, although delighted just like his other Housemates, couldn't help but feel that the reason why they won the House Cup this school year was bloody ridiculous. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at Dumbledore, who looked clearly pleased with the awards the Golden Trio and Neville suddenly gained, his twinkling eyes latched onto Harry Potter.
Of course, even their bloody Headmaster had his favourite.
"Damn it, Harry," Hermes said, giving him a disbelieving smile.
"What?" Harry asked, glancing at him with a curious look in his eyes.
Hermes' smile widened and shook his head. Bloody hell, being best friends with The-Boy-Who-Lived really had terrific perks. His eyes strayed on the scar on Harry's cheeks, and visions of their past adventures back at the third corridor came crashing back into him.
Harry didn't necessarily tell him and Ron everything. They were separated from Harry when Ron got injured after playing that life-size Wizard Chess and Harry insisted for Hermes to stay behind and look after him. Hermes would have protested more, because stupid Harry was about to face an unknown enemy, who was possibly evil. But Harry was stubborn, and left them to meet the enemy alone.
It turned out that Quirrell all along was the one always putting Harry's life in danger, not Snape. It was surprising, because Snape seemed the eviler between the two. Who knew their bumbling Professor who smelled of garlic would house Voldemort's soul?
Voldemort. That name still sent shivers down his spine. He knew about him all right; history books detailed the atrocious things he had done when he was still alive. The way Ron's face paled when Harry revealed the antagonist to their little adventure already spoke volumes of how notorious this Voldemort was.
At least, for now said soul was vanquished. Voldemort was gone once more.
Hermes frowned and proceeded to pile some food on his plate. Somehow, there was a niggling part in his brain that told him this wouldn't be their last dangerous adventure. He shot a quick look at Harry's thunderbolt shaped scar and shivered.
"I'm going to go back first," he said, suddenly not having any appetite anymore.
"You barely touched your plate!" Ron exclaimed in between eager bites of his fried chicken and beef. Hermes gave him a disgusted look he chose not to notice.
"I still have some packing to do," he said, sliding out of the bench. He clapped Harry's back and strolled out of the Great Hall, already mentally deciding how to order his trunk so that all of his things would fit neatly.
As he reached the grand staircases, he froze. His eyes landed on an embarrassed Iris Malfoy, halfway to a standing position, and frowned.
"Were you just sitting down on these steps, Malfoy?" he asked, curious at her red-rimmed eyes and slightly dishevelled appearance. Iris always looked immaculate; seeing her frazzled was a surprising thing to behold.
"What's it to you, Granger?" she spat, immediately turning away from him and swiping at her eyes.
He lifted an eyebrow, amused at her pathetic attempt to hide the fact that she had been crying a while ago.
When she turned back, the telltale signs of crying were gone. Instead, her face was once again schooled into that cold arrogance that made her look like a porcelain doll. Slightly smiling to himself, if she stopped hurling nasty comments, she could really look pretty.
"What the hell are you smiling at?"
Hermes did not bother hiding his smile. Of course she had to open her mouth and start snarling insults. He almost stopped himself from rolling his eyes, wondering why he even thought her pretty when her behaviour was atrocious.
"Is something wrong, Malfoy?" he asked.
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's it to you?" she slowly drawled.
He realised what he had just said and mentally smacked his mouth. Serves him right for even momentarily wondering if Malfoy was okay.
"You were obviously crying," he hastily said. "So I assumed that something is wrong."
He braced himself for Iris to snap and breathe fire. Among his peers, they started calling her 'The Dragon' behind her back. He knew name-calling was mean; he had been the receiving end of such kind of bullying before after all. But such a ferocious beast fitted her perfectly, her mouth almost breathing fire every time she threw a scathing remark.
To his surprise, Iris slowly closed the distance between them until she was mere inches away from him. He could already see that her grey eyes actually had some flecks of blue and there was this small mole under her left eyebrow.
"Do not assume anything about me again, Granger," she whispered menacingly. "Ever." Her features hardened as she gave him a very dark glare.
"Blimey, Malfoy, I was just trying to be nice," he murmured.
Iris snarled. "You know what, Granger?" she continued, almost half-shrieking. "Something is wrong." She pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You!"
"Me?" he asked, creasing his forehead in confusion.
"Yes, you!" she shrilly exclaimed. "I hate… I hate you. All of you. Because you never have to try. Because you always get the highest mark. Because you are always the bloody best." She was breathing heavily now and to his horror, there were angry tears pooling at the corner of her eyes. "You loved it there, huh, Granger? Being on top of everything. I bet you love being Harry Bloody Potter's best friend, too! Know-it-all, swotty Hermes Granger finally found a friend that would make him feel like he belonged?"
His hands curled into tight fists at his sides. "Watch your words, Malfoy," he warned with thinly-veiled anger in his voice.
"Ooh, did I hit a nerve, Granger?" she asked, a wicked smile stretched on her face that contrasted greatly with the tears in her eyes.
He pushed her away from him and toppled back, breathing heavily through his nostrils. Holy Merlin, he just wanted to become nice for once in his life and ask her what was wrong with her. Fighting with Iris Malfoy for the whole year was bloody tiring and he thought maybe he could cut her some slack; maybe growing up in stuffy, strict Pureblood households would inevitably corrupt the soul. But damn it all, he was done with her insults and of trying to at least see that there was something good in her.
"You don't know anything about me either, Malfoy," he snarled, the curls on his head becoming frizzier with anger.
She slowly wiped away her tears and stood to her fullest height. Then, a small smirk grew on her face. "Isn't it cute?" she bitingly continued. "Lonely Hermes Granger finally found a friend in Hogwarts." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and gave him a steely glance. "What if I told you you will always be second best in Harry Potter's list of best friends?"
He stiffened. He always knew that Harry favoured Ron over him and he told himself countless times that it was okay. They were friends first. At least they were allowing him in their circle, dragging him in dangerous adventures even though he repeatedly reprimanded them for breaking numerous rules.
But to hear it from the Slytherin, her words twisted viciously. It had stung… well, maybe there was a part of him that was bothered by it after all.
"I hate you, Malfoy," he said without skipping a beat.
Her eyes glinted dangerously. "The feeling is mutual, Granger." Then, she was stalking away, leaving him to glare openly at her back.
That night, plagued with depressing thoughts care of the blonde Slytherin, Hermes finally calmed himself down and wondered what had ever happened to Iris Malfoy to make her so… so hateful.
A/N: So, what do you think? Tell me in your reviews!
With love,
WickedlyAwesomeMe