Thank you for the lovely reviews! I really do appreciate them. Here we go again...(Sorry for the wait! )
Chapter 3: A Second First Impression
After the excruciating Potions class, Hermione felt absolutely exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to snuggle in her soft bed and sleep her troubles away. When she entered the girls' dormitory, she nearly stepped right back out, seeing as Lavender and Parvati were sitting on Parvati's mattress and gossiping.
They abruptly stopped and stared at Hermione. Lavender squinted at her in a challenging sort of way, her chin pointing up. Her arms were crossed over her magically-enhanced boobs and her legs were crossed under her magically-shortened skirt.
"Hello Lavender. Hello Parvati," sniffed Hermione.
"Hey Hermione!" returned Lavender, a bit too pleasantly.
At that moment, Hermione knew that she wouldn't be able to live in the same room as her. She had barely tolerated it in her sixth year when Lavender and Ron were dating; a second time would drive her to insanity. The constant discussions about Ron, his physical appearance, his kissing abilities, his feelings . . . she wanted to scream already.
"Well, I'm just here to pack up my stuff. Professor McGonagall recommends that I move to the Heads' dormitory."
It was the first excuse she thought of, and she immediately began to dump her clothes into her traveling trunk, a fake smile plastered on her face. Perhaps moving was the best thing to do, she thought. It would let her be away from Ron, Harry, Lavender, and all the people that reminded her of the lunch scene. The more Hermione thought of it, the better the idea seemed. She moved faster, piling her books on top her clothes, and searched for her bathroom necessities.
Lavender and Parvati followed Hermione's movements with their eyes and decided she wasn't joking. They were silent as she closed the metal clasps of her trunk and hauled it off the floor with a small grunt.
"Goodbye!" Hermione said cheerily, with a cheesy hand wave. As soon as she stepped out of the girls' dorm, she broke into a sprint and dashed down the stairs, through the Fat Lady portrait, and down the seventh floor corridor.
When she reached the stairs, she suddenly stopped.
"Where the fuck are the Heads' dorms?" she cursed to herself. She dropped the trunk on the stone floor, opened the clasps, and rummaged through her papers, searching for her information letter. Dammit, dammit, dammit, she swore silently. Finally, her hands touched the smooth, crisp, thick cardstock. She whipped it out and skimmed through it until she found her information.
. . . The Heads' dormitory is located on the 7th floor of the West Tower. Each Head has his or her private bedroom and bathroom, but they will share a study room and dining area . . .
Each Head . . . horrified, Hermione re-read the sentence over and over again. She completely forgot that Malfoy was Head Boy. Moving to the Heads' dormitory would be simply transferring from one hell to another.
"Maybe Malfoy's staying in the Slytherin dorms." She actually said the words out loud to ease her panic. She debated within herself, and decided Malfoy was actually the lesser of the two evils. Yes, Malfoy never reminded her of Ron's hurtful words, or the stupid obsequious friend that Harry was.
Hermione gathered up her things, tucking the parchment letter into her robes pocket, and headed towards the West Tower, which was on the complete opposite end of the school. Most of the students were in the Great Hall having dinner, so the hallways were mercifully empty for Hermione to walk through. She finally came across the unfamiliar archway leading into the West Tower. To her surprise, the only room on the entire floor was the Head's dormitory. The door was a huge, ornate golden specimen, with gold knockers the size of dinner plates. Every square inch of the door was covered in carvings of the four Hogwarts mascots, in different poses - sleeping, jumping, sitting, running, and so on. Uncertain, Hermione banged the door with a knocker on the right and waited for some magical password system to come up.
A neutral-sounding female voice spoke up. "Good day. Password, please?"
Hermione referred to her letter and answered back, "Cornish hen." No doubt Dumbledore came up with it.
Instead of opening, the door disappeared completely, and it reappeared when Hermione stepped through the empty space. The common area of the dormitory was lusciously decorated, as she predicted, with squashy armchairs similar to those in the Gryffindor common room and pretty cherry wood flooring and furniture. She turned to her right and faced a large wooden door that displayed the sign "Head Girl - reserved for HERMIONE GRANGER."
Hermione dragged her trunk into her new room, which was just as elegant as the common area, and magicked her clothes into her new dresser and her toiletries into the bathroom. It wouldn't be so bad here. She could avoid Malfoy altogether if she left earlier in the morning and returned earlier in the evening. She could have dinner in the dining area while Malfoy ate with his friends. She could stay in her own room if Malfoy wanted to wander around. And that was only if he was staying in the Heads' dorm, which she sincerely hoped he wasn't.
Her fears were suddenly confirmed when she heard a sneeze from the common area. Oh fuck.
Tiptoe-ing, she opened her door and peeked out the microscopic crack she created, and choked on a scream. Malfoy was indeed there. He wandered around the room, apparently looking for something. He had taken off his black robes and sweater, wearing only his white collared shirt, with his tie undone, and pleated trousers. Hermione couldn't help but think how sloppy he looked, when she had other much more important things to worry about.
Malfoy suddenly turned around, startled by the noise of Hermione's suppressed shriek.
"Who's there?" he called towards her door, his voice containing an edge of panic.
Hermione gulped. It was now or never. She pulled her door all the way back and stared at a shocked Malfoy with a hard expression.
"I'm living here now, whether you like it or not," she said with her head raised high.
They gaped at each other for a few seconds, when Malfoy finally said, "What about your own crappy dormitory?"
"Well . . . this is my crappy dormitory now."
"I was here first."
Hermione's eye twitched. "What about your Slytherin dorm?"
"I preferred the idea of living alone," he replied, snarling the last word.
"Well too bad!" she growled back. "It's not like we'll have to interact. Just . . . leave me alone and I'll leave you alone!"
Malfoy sighed impatiently and rolled his eyes. "Fine, Granger. Just don't get your Mudblood arse in my way."
Hermione tilted her head, giving him a tight-lipped and squinty-eyed smile, before slamming her door. That actually didn't go as bad as she thought, her imagined scenario having involved several nasty hexes and going to the hospital wing. Relieved, she flopped on her bed and began to do her homework enthusiastically.
Blood was pounding in Draco's head.
He felt sickened. A Mudblood living in the same place as him, a Malfoy! Actually, these thoughts were automatic, since he really didn't care about all that pure blood shit, especially if it meant a betrothal to Pansy. In fact, he didn't care about anything much anymore. That made everything easier.
But Granger stirred something in him. Perhaps it was the seven-year-long rivalry, or her snippety attitude, or the way she glared at him with hatred. Whatever it was, it made him feel small and emotional and stupid all at the same time. He despised all those feelings, and he despised Granger for making him feel them.
Draco grimaced to himself, and went on all fours to look under the couch for his necklace. He personally thought that the silver chain was stupid, but it was a Malfoy family heirloom that his father forced him to wear when he turned seventeen a year ago. Lucius would not appreciate it if it went missing. Apparently it was goblin-made and made the wearer better-looking or something. Which of course was unnecessary, given that Draco thought himself rather dashing.
He saw the chain glinting brightly around the leg of the couch. It must've fallen when he had taken a nap there the day before. He reluctantly snaked the chain around his neck, quickly hiding it under his shirt. The last thing he needed was Crabbe and Goyle snickering at him for wearing jewelry. Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Nott, Pansy . . . the names sounded like something from his far past, when his only goal had been to annoy Potter and his Gryffindor friends. Draco had wanted to get away from the sheer Slytherin-ness of it all this year, but now Granger just had to come live across the hall and remind him of everything.
Damn bitch, he thought.
"Well!"
He almost screamed in surprise; did Granger know Legilimency or something? She had thrown open her door, and now she was glaring at him.
"What do you want?" Draco groaned.
"I don't have a desk in my room," Granger snapped. "I've poked about a thousand holes in my essay writing it on the bed."
"And I care why?"
"So . . . I'll be doing my homework out here. Where you can see my 'Mudblood arse.' If it bothers you, you can go in your room."
"The day I listen to you will be when hell freezes over."
Her eyebrows raised. "Fine, then don't gripe at me for being in your line of vision." She dragged her book bag out of her room and hauled it onto the table near the fireplace. With a flourish, she dipped her quill into her ink bottle and began to copy her hole-ridden essay onto a fresh piece of parchment.
Granger's presence actually didn't bother Draco very much. To prove that he didn't care, he took out his books and parchment and began to write his essay also. He wrote vigorously, never stopping, almost competing with Granger to see who would finish first with the longest paper. Both of them worked diligently for almost two hours, until Granger finally put down her quill and smoothed out her parchment. Draco looked up and cursed to himself. Her essay was easily two feet at least, but his barely reached sixteen inches, and he had only been proofreading for the past fifteen minutes.
She turned and saw him giving her the evil eye. "What?" she asked suspiciously.
Clearly, she was not aware of the competition.
"Shut up, I'm proofreading," he grumbled.
Suddenly her eyes brightened and she smiled. It was weird; Draco had never seen a Gryffindor smile when he was in the vicinity.
"Really?" Granger squealed. "Is it the Tranfiguration one? I think my essay was one of my personal best. I was a bit stumped at how to explain the difference between transforming living things into other living things and transforming living things into non-living things, but I think I did alright . . . " She was talking to herself more than Draco.
She had walked over and taken the liberty to see his essay. Draco protested a bit when she snatched it out of his hands, but she ignored him and began to psychoanalyze every sentence.
"Did I ask for you help?" he said indignantly.
He tried wrestling his essay back from Granger's hands, but she had an iron grip on it. He was afraid of ripping it (and remembered where the bruise under his eye came from) so in the end he gave up and leaned back on the couch with his legs and arms crossed.
She hummed as her eyes darted from left to right repeatedly. "Oh, here you spelled 'apocryphal' wrong . . . although I'm surprised you knew what it meant, they don't teach English at Hogwarts . . . That's false there, it is possible to transfigure life-like qualities into an inanimate object, Professor McGonagall does it all the time." Draco ignored her. After a minute or so, she finished and made a few marks with her quill. She looked up at Draco with a curious expression on her face.
"You know, Malfoy, this is pretty good. I mean, it's better than most of Harry's stuff and loads better than anything Ron ever - " Her voice suddenly faltered, but she quickly shook her head and continued. "I just think that your conclusion should have more information in it from the second paragraph, and change what I just told you about . . . " She trailed off into nothingness, handing back the paper to Draco.
"Hmph. I'm not an idiot like your little friends. I get fine marks without using anyone as a bitch."
"I'm sure," Granger drawled. Something in her voice reminded him of his own, and he couldn't help but smirk at the irony. The Mudblood imitating his tone . . . this was such a farce.
She didn't see him since she had returned to the table behind the couch. Just when Draco thought they were done interacting, she spoke up again, her tone thoughtful.
"Malfoy, do you know who's the second best wizard in our year? I just wondered that right now. I know I've been first all these years, but I never thought about what people were below me."
Draco snorted quietly. "It's me, of course. Did you think it was Potter, or better yet, Weasel?"
"Really?" She sounded a bit surprised. "Who's under you?"
Your mom, he thought automatically, chuckling to himself. However, he answered, "Finch-Fletchley. The Hufflepuff."
"Justin? That's more understandable than you. So who's fourth?"
"Um . . . whatsherface . . . Hannah Abbott."
"And fifth?"
"Goldstein. Don't ask more, because I have no idea about anyone below the top five."
Granger nodded, said "Thanks," and stared out the window. After a moment, she took out her Potions textbook and a fresh piece of parchment, and began another essay. Draco waited uncomfortably to see if she would burst out in speech again, but she didn't so he relaxed.
Well, that was weird, thought Draco as he began correcting his Transfiguration essay.
That was . . . interesting, thought Hermione as she started her Potions essay. She would never have guessed that Malfoy was number two in the seventh year if she hadn't seen his essay for herself. It was all very strange. How was Malfoy smarter than Harry, and even Justin and Anthony Goldstein? Why, then, did he socialize with two dolts like Crabbe and Goyle?
Her insides twisted a little. He might have thought the same thing of her. After all, Ron and Harry weren't exactly the two brightest students either. She viciously told herself that Harry had street smarts at least, while Ron was simply stupid. Her inner rampage made her feel a little better, though a small voice of conscience screamed at her mutinous thoughts.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy vacuuming up some ink with his wand and rewriting the sentence with a pretty dove quill. So he actually took her advice and knew how to correct his mistakes. With another gush of rage, she remembered how she had to erase the ink and change the words of Ron's essays since he had no idea how to do either task.
If they treated each other only as well as the last few hours, Hermione believed she could live here, live happily enough. She thought of how peaceful it was, just them two sitting there and doing their homework. Hell, they could become good acquaintances, even friends. After another hour, she yawned, stretched, and rolled up her finished essay. Malfoy was checking his. Again, Hermione was surprised at how long the parchment was. She thought she was the only one who would ever write more inches than the requirement.
Suddenly, she spied the clock on the opposite wall.
"Oh my god! It's already seven thirty!" she cried. It would take at least ten minutes to power-walk to the Great Hall, and dinner would be almost over by then. Anyway, she didn't really want to go - it would mean seeing Ron and Harry.
Malfoy grunted. "I guess."
"Why didn't you eat with Crabbe and Goyle?" Hermione asked, suddenly curious and slightly suspicious.
"Just never noticed the time," he replied drily, wiping ink off his quill. He glanced at her in a suspicious manner also. "Aren't you pissed at missing your precious meal with Potter and Weasley?"
"No, not really." Her voice had a vicious edge that made him not seem to want to question her.
She thought for a second, biting her lip. "I'll just get the food here." She realized that she had been sitting at the dining table, so she turned her head and said to no one in particular, "Could I have my dinner here, please?" With any luck, the house elves would be able to hear her and send the dishes up.
In about five seconds, several bowls of food appeared along with two dinner plates and two sets of silverware, already arranged perfectly on opposite ends of the table. Hermione saw roast chicken, mashed potatoes, broccoli, tomato soup, and a basket of assorted rolls. Her mouth watered and her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she had skipped most of lunch. She was about to grab the soup bowl, but Malfoy had appeared out of nowhere and taken it for himself, dumping almost all of it into his personal bowl.
"Hey!" she screamed at him. "I didn't eat lunch, my stomach is about to shrivel up, and I - LOVE - HOGWARTS'S - TOMATO - SOUP - GODDAMMIT!" She grabbed a roll and waved it threateningly in Malfoy's face. The soup really was delicious and she had waited all summer to taste it again. Her stomach growled in agreement.
Malfoy stared at her, bug-eyed. They looked at each other for a moment, then Malfoy suddenly and quickly slurped up all his soup while keeping his gaze on Hermione. He was challenging her; she threw the roll at his face in petty anger. To her supreme shock, he caught it in his mouth and sank his teeth into the dough, snarling at her with the roll still between his incisors. Hermione had never, ever in her seventeen-year life seen anything as strange or ridiculous as what Malfoy just did. She began to laugh, starting with a few cough-like sounds, and soon ended up in her chair in hysterics. Her fists pounded the table as she gasped for breath.
When she finally looked back up, the bread was gone.
"Where did the roll go?"
"I thought it would be quite obvious that I ate it."
Hermione paused, imagined Malfoy scarfing down the roll like an animal without using his hands, and burst into fresh peals of laughter. She literally rolled onto the floor, roaring and clutching her stomach.
"That - was - so - weird!" she screamed between giggles.
"I'm weird?!" Malfoy yelled. "Look at you! Wiggling on the ground like some disgusting worm! Stop it! STOP - LAUGHING!"
And in an aristocratic fit, he took a roll from the basket and chucked it at her head. This only aggravated Hermione's condition, who managed to choke out: "I can't catch food in my mouth!" before she started giggling again.
"Mudbloods," Malfoy muttered. He chose to ignore Hermione and instead started on the rest of his dinner.
After a few minutes or so, Hermione managed to calm herself down. She bit her lip to stop giggles from escaping before she raised herself off the floor and sat on the chair opposite an eating Malfoy.
"Um, sorry for punching you on the train," she burst out. "I'm sure Madam Pomfrey could fix that bruise up in an instant." As she watched him eat, she remembered the roll and fought to keep her face straight.
"Mmm," grumbled Malfoy in reply.
Hermione scooped herself some mashed potatoes, thinking about how she was grateful for Malfoy for the first time in her life. Oh, the irony.