Wow, I love the reviews! All of them. I was improvising a bit the previous chapters, and everything's more according to plan now.
Chapter 5: Closer
Everything that was going on was so alien to Draco - the kindness, the gifts, the crying, the hugging. He was not a touchy-feely sort of person, and it did not help that Granger was having a complete emotional meltdown in front of him and, to an extent, on him.
Unsure of what to do, he simply patted her back awkwardly until he couldn't bear it any longer.
"Um, Granger," he said after almost two minutes had passed. "Get the hell off. You're soiling my very expensive sweater."
She immediately let go. She was still sniffling a little, but she seemed sheepish and looked everywhere in the room but Draco. Inevitably, a heavy silence came over them. He found it odd compared to her "openness" a moment ago.
"Er . . . nothing happened here," she said with her lips pursed in a tight line.
"Right," he agreed.
They took a single look at each other, then spun around to go into their respective bedrooms, both clearly wanting to leave the awkward tension in the room. After washing up and changing, Draco slid between his sheets feeling strange indeed and not knowing what in the world was going on in his life. He actually laughed to himself thinking how his father would react if he knew that a Muggle-born had hugged him - probably throw a fit and sue the Grangers for assault.
He didn't know when he fell asleep, but his unconnected thoughts gradually changed into a dream. He was walking through a dark forest, possibly the Forbidden Forest, alone and without a wand. It was night time and there was only enough moonlight for him to see a few feet ahead at a time, and though he didn't know where he was going, he knew he was supposed to get there.
Suddenly there was a bright light in the distance, and his dream self's heart leapt. He began to run towards the light, wondering if that was the destined place, but abruptly stopped when he realized he could be dying. Didn't dying people run towards "the light"? As he debated with himself, a person walked beside Draco and stood there, immobile. It was Granger.
"What are you doing here?" he asked incredulously, not knowing that he had company. He noticed that she was crying, which made his insides turn unpleasantly.
"I don't know," she admitted. "What are you doing here?"
"I don't know, either."
"Guess what?"
"What?"
"Chicken butt."
The scenery swirled and changed. Somehow, they were in Hogwarts now. Granger was holding her parents' birthday gifts in one hand and held Weasley's hand in the other. Draco was walking behind them, but they were oblivious. A glint of red peeked out from Weasley's other hand, and with a jolt, Draco realized it was his phoenix quill.
"Hey, Weasley! That's mine!" he called out desperately. Granger looked over her shoulder but Weasley pulled her back quickly.
"Don't listen to him," Weasley whispered, not even bothering to turn to face Draco. "Happy birthday, Hermione." He handed the quill to Granger.
She smiled to him and wrapped an arm around his neck, planting a kiss on his lips. For some reason, Draco felt dreadful. He turned and ran, far far away, until he was back in the forest . . . but something was different from before - there was a voice now . . . a familiar voice . . .
"Draco Malfoy!" it screamed. "YOU - ARE - GOING - TO - BE - LATE!"
His eyes snapped open and he scrambled into a sitting position, only to hear someone pounding on his door. He checked the clock, blinking several times to make sure it was right.
"Granger! Are you mad?! It's bloody five-thirty!" he screamed back. "I'm going back to sleep." He sank back into his sheets and put up a silencing charm for good measure. Two seconds later, the wooden door crashed down and Granger stomped into his room, yanked off the sheets, and slapped him awake.
"ARRRGH!" Draco yelped, cowering from her heavy hand and kicking out like a small child.
"Too bad I could hear you say 'Muffliato'," she snarled. "I forgot until late last night, but we have a Heads meeting today. In about twenty fucking minutes. So, get up!"
He continued to struggle, trying to remember where he put his wand, but Granger had a vicelike grip on his neck. "Shit, it's Saturday. I - need - SLEEP!" he yelled, closing his eyes again.
He felt a small hand clench the two sides of his face and shake his head violently and painfully. Getting nauseous, he finally opened his eyes to find Granger's flushed angry face glaring at him, her eyes even wider than usual. A strange feeling of déjà vu went through him, though he couldn't quite place where he would have experienced his current situation before.
"Let go of me," he blubbered through her fingers. "Crazy madwoman."
She obliged, removing her restricting hand, but she kept a beady eye on his movements. He lifted himself off his very comfortable bed and ambled sleepily to his bathroom. Granger started following him, but stopped abruptly in the doorway.
"Oh god, my corneas are burning," she groaned, looking away as he started brushing his teeth. "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"
Despite his drowsiness, Draco couldn't help but smirk at the thought of her appraising his shirtless body, which was pretty nice in his opinion. "I know this must be enjoyable for you, Granger, but staring is impolite," he said, grinning evilly.
"For your information, Malfoy, I'm trying not to look. Oh, Jesus, put on a shirt!"
"You know you like it." He spit out his toothpaste, giving her a flashy, toothy, sarcastic grin. She opened her mouth, pointed a finger to the back of her throat, and pretended to gag.
"That gesture gives me naughty thoughts," Draco said.
She scowled. She turned around and sifted through one of his trunks, then threw a set of robes onto the bathroom floor. He cringed inwardly. Pure silk, worth a thousand or so Galleons, discarded like a dirty pair of underpants.
"Hurry up and change now. We have eight minutes to get to McGonagall's office and - " (Her scowl grew even bigger when he stripped to his boxers in front of her and started pulling on the clothes she chose) " - and I am leaving now." She stepped quickly out of his bedroom, covering her eyes and moaning in disgust. Draco chuckled to himself. It was so fun to annoy Granger.
When he finished, she positively dragged him down the stairs to the deputy headmistress's office. Upon their arrival, McGonagall glanced at her watch and gave a steely look to both of them, lingering longer on Draco's face.
"I expect the two student leaders to be on time," she said dryly. Granger started apologizing, but McGonagall brushed it away.
"There are more important matters, anyway. As you may know, we have an annual graduation ball - "
"A what, excuse me?" Draco groaned.
McGonagall glared at him with intense dislike etched in every wrinkle of her face. "A ball, Mr. Malfoy. As in a dance. Professor Dumbledore thinks it's a good way for seventh years to . . . er, celebrate," she said glumly, clearly disagreeing. "In other words, there is a whole lot of planning and much of the workload is put on me and the Head Girl and Boy, since you of all people should know best what your peers like and want."
"What exactly are we supposed to do?" said Granger.
"Everything," McGonagall replied simply. "Food, entertainment, decorations, activities, et cetera. You have a budget of ten thousand Galleons, and you shouldn't use it all anyway, but other than that you can do whatever you wish."
"Why can't Dumbledore plan it himself?" snapped Draco. He was not enjoying the fact that he had to do extra work with this "ball" crap, what with N.E.W.T.s coming up and his duties as Heady Boy, not to mention cranky from waking up so early.
"Malfoy!" gasped Granger.
"You will show respect or I can delegate more appealing tasks to you, such as scrubbing the toilets," said McGonagall severely, her face flushing with anger.
"That's Filch's job!" he countered.
Neither Granger nor McGonagall argued, surprisingly. Draco supposed that they hated Filch as much as anyone else.
"Back to the topic," McGonagall said loudly and suddenly. "You should probably try to contact the Weird Sisters' manager - they usually need requests a couple months in advance. That's all. You're dismissed."
With that, she shuffled a few pieces of parchment together and stared him and Granger down until they left her office.
Draco almost ran back to the dorm. He immediately plopped onto his bed and lost consciousness within seconds, but not before he heard Granger grumble, "Lazy arse."
Hermione watched Malfoy begin snoring within seconds of touching his bed, astonished that someone could fall asleep so quickly. He was even worse than Ron in this aspect.
Shaking her head, she drafted the letter to the Weird Sisters and began walking through the school to the Owlery. When she was about halfway there, she felt a tap on her shoulder.
"Who is - oh, Ginny!" Hermione screamed excitedly. The two hugged tightly.
"What're you doing up so early?" Hermione asked.
Ginny made a face and said, "Quidditch. Harry is getting a bit obsessive. Reminds me of Oliver Wood." She paused and looked Hermione straight in the eye. "Hermione, you don't have to do this."
"What?"
"The moving-away bullshit. Really, who gives a rat's arse what Ron thinks? If it means anything, he's not getting any better with you gone."
Hermione blinked, quite thrown off by the sudden change in conversation. "Well, I told Harry the same thing. It's really not that bad and - "
"How can it be not that bad?" Ginny said angrily. "It's Malfoy versus Ron! Okay, Ron can be a jerk, but at least he's not some egomaniacal, prejudiced, pampered, little prat."
"Ginny!" Hermione said incredulously. "Malfoy can be pretty nice, you know! When he wants to." She dropped her voice, even though they were alone in the corridors. "He gave me a birthday gift, when Ron didn't."
Ginny gaped at her for a second, then her expression softened considerably.
"Well. This is the surprise of the year," she said softly, more to herself than Hermione. "I can't believe this! Ron is just so . . . petty. He'll really be regretting his choices later. Well, anyway, I want to know more about this Malfoy stuff."
"He's just . . . I dunno, nicer," said Hermione.
"No, no! Details!" Ginny insisted.
"What details?" Hermione said, frustratingly.
"What 'nice' things did he do? When did he start? Details, Hermione, details."
Hermione thought a moment, and hesitantly told her about the original apology, the homework-helping, and most recently, the quill and the hug. "I mean, he can still be a royal git, but it's not so much . . . damn-you-to-hell-ish sort of behavior. It's more . . . friendly insulting?" She shrugged.
"Let's see the quill." She held out her hand, and Hermione fished the phoenix feather out of her bag and dropped it on Ginny's palm. "Merlin, this is quite . . . gaudy. How much is it worth, like a hundred Galleons?"
"Er, more, probably. And it is not gaudy, just high class. Besides, it's worth almost nothing to him."
Ginny stood silently for what seemed like a long time. Then she abruptly broke out in hysterics, doubling over and shaking with laughter.
"What?" asked Hermione again.
"He - Malfoy - " Ginny managed to gasp. "He fancies you! Malfoy! Hahaha!"
At the suggestion of such a ridiculous theory, Hermione roared with laughter as well. She didn't realize that Ginny had stopped giggling when she started.
"Hermione, I'm serious."
"What are you talking about?" Hermione squeaked, still breathless from laughing. "We barely started talking civilly to each other, and now you think he fancies me? I mean, you were the one laughing earlier! You are very, very mistaken."
"I don't think so. Why else would he start being nicer?"
"Maybe he just wanted to be a better person this year."
"Just like how Goyle wants to be a ballerina when he grows up."
"Oh, and liking me is any more realistic?"
"Um . . . yeah?"
"Whatever, Ginny . . . " Hermione said, rolling her eyes. She changed the subject quickly. "So tell me how things are going with Harry!"
"You don't want to know," Ginny said with a mischievous glint in her eyes and a wide grin.
Hermione laughed nervously, not sure that she did want to know.
"Well, we've snogged loads. Almost every waking minute," Ginny plowed on anyway. "I have this feeling that people are starting to get sick of it. We've gone as far as groping each other, but it's mostly snogging. Not too bad, no?"
"Niiiice," Hermione cooed. "I thought it was going to get more, er, kinky than kissing."
Ginny chuckled, then her face lit up. "Oh, I almost forgot! We're going to have a party in the Room of Requirement next Friday night. It's going to be sixth and seventh years. You should really come, Hermione."
"Er . . . "
"You can just ignore Ron. Forget that prick. You should come and have fun. Dancing, food, firewhisky, sound good to you?"
"Firewhisky?" gasped Hermione. "That's a banned substance!"
"Oh, lighten up," said Ginny, waving her hand. She looked pleadingly at Hermione with wide, puppy-dog eyes.
"Well . . . alright. I suppose I can go," Hermione said slowly.
"Fantastic, I'll tell Harry! Oh, Harry . . . dammit! I'm supposed to be in the Quidditch pitch now. Sorry, I have to go! Bye!" With a quick embrace, Ginny zoomed down the hall at a lightning pace, looking glum.
Dazed, Hermione arrived at the Owlery still thinking about her conversation with Ginny. Malfoy? Really? she thought doubtfully as she tied her letter to a small, fluffy brown owl. The very idea made her stomach feel funny, though from nausea or butterflies she did not know for sure.
When she was finished attaching the parchment to the owl's leg, it blinked at her with large black, knowing eyes and flew out of a nearby window. She walked back to the Heads' dorm, still feeling queasy. Malfoy's bedroom door was open, and she saw that he was still sleeping like a dead person, fully dressed. He was on his stomach, one arm dangling over the bed, and his mouth was wide open in a rather stupid manner.
"Aristocracy at its best," she muttered to herself, closing his door and then going into her own bedroom.
She laid on her bed and had a nice long thinking session. For almost an hour, she stared at the high, arched ceilings, eventually reaching three conclusions.
First, she shouldn't even be letting all this insignificant teenage drama go to her head. She knew that honestly none of the shit would seriously affect her future. Second, even if she and Ron weren't going to pursue anything romantically, she wanted them to be friends again at least. It would be simply a manner of waiting for Ron's common sense to come back and for him to apologize for his idiocy. Third, she wanted to become better friends with Draco Malfoy. They weren't children anymore, and they didn't need to act like ones. A pleasant thought ran through her mind as she imagined Malfoy on speaking terms with all her other friends.
The weekend passed uneventfully. Hermione visited the library a few times, took a few walks on the school grounds, and did some homework. Malfoy slept the rest of the day and disappeared from the common room that night. She only saw him again Sunday afternoon, looking exhausted.
"Why are you so tired?" asked Hermione scathingly. "You slept for about twenty of the last twenty-four hours."
"Make it twenty-four, if you count 'sleeping' as its other meaning, too. Pansy wanted to fuck," he replied.
She felt blood rush to her face and she quickly looked down at her book. A surge of some negative feeling pierced her heart. Jealousy? Sadness? Anger?
"Well, I hoped you enjoyed yourself," she said stiffly. "Though I don't really see how a walking STD is very appealing."
"It isn't," he muttered, much to Hermione's surprise.
He trudged to his room unhappily, dragged out his book bag, and sat opposite Hermione at the dining table. They did their homework in silence.
The next week was slow. The students mourned the true end of summer as the weather turned cooler and the teachers piled on more homework than ever. Hermione felt the lack of sleep and stress starting to affect her studies. Once in History of Magic, she actually fell asleep during one of Professor Binns's lectures. Often she would doze off while writing her essays; all in all, it was quite shameful behavior.
It was even worse since the Heads were assigned the latest hall patrolling shifts. This particularly irritated Malfoy, who (Hermione figured out soon enough) needed his "beauty sleep" in order to function like a normal human being. In their classes together, it wasn't uncommon for him to simply put his head down and nap for half an hour.
When Friday finally came, Hermione herself was ready for a twenty-hour sleep session. Alas, her plans were foiled after she was walking from her last class to the dorm, when Ginny pushed through the crowd and managed to drag Hermione into a corner.
"What," Hermione said impatiently, anxious to get to her nap.
"I just need to tell you the party's at eight. You need to think 'I need to get into the most awesome party ever' when you're walking past the door," Ginny said solemnly.
"Party . . . ?" With a sinking sensation, Hermione recalled the promise she made to go when they had talked a week ago. "Uuuugh."
"Yes, the party!" Ginny said shrilly. "I already told Harry and a whole lot of other people, so you are definitely coming."
With a sigh of defeat, Hermione said, "Yeah, okay, I'll be there."
She wrestled herself out of Ginny's grasp and power walked towards the Heads' room. She figured that if she had at least a couple hours to relax, then, dammit, she was going to use them.
As she reached the stairs to the sixth floor, she suddenly noticed a flurry of movement behind a statue of an old witch. Curious, she looked behind it. She saw a tangle of red and dirty blond hair and a large amount of writhing.
"Well," she said.
Ron and Lavender froze. They slowly broke apart to look at their intruder and Ron's mouth opened and closed several times, making him look like a fish.
"Hello, Ron. Hello, Lavender," said Hermione sweetly. A cool fury was building up inside of her, but she carefully kept it hidden.
Ron tried to speak, but only choked out, "Hey." Lavender, who was taller than Hermione, looked down at her sort of condescendingly but did not say anything.
Hermione blinked very slowly and stretched her mouth into an artificial smile. "I'm glad things are going well with you two, but please keep your personal life, well, personal." She was internally laughing as she realized how much she sounded and acted like Umbridge.
"Sod off, Hermione."
Both she and Ron stared incredulously at Lavender. She haughtily flipped her hair and clutched Ron's arm, leading them out from behind the statue, but not before shooting a glare at Hermione. Wide-eyed, Ron obediently followed her and they rushed up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.
Hermione was slightly in a state of shock as she walked towards the Heads' dorms. Once she was in the privacy of her bedroom, everything snapped. She forgot all about the second conclusion she made a week earlier. She forgot that none of this mattered in life. All she could see was Ron and Lavender, entwined and snogging the lights out of each other. With the same cold anger from before, she ripped a piece of blank parchment to shreds, imagining it as Ron's and Lavender's heads. She threw her clock across the room and watched it smash into the wall, break into pieces, and clink onto the wooden floor. Tears threatened to fall but Hermione prevented herself from crying through sheer force. Crying was for weak people.
She was about to throw one of her slippers when her door suddenly crashed open.
"What the hell is going on here?" snapped Malfoy, his hair and clothes uncharacteristically tousled.
"Nothing." She saw him looking at the broken clock and pieces of parchment scattered over her bed, and she quickly hid the slipper behind her back.
"Right . . ." he said sarcastically. "Whatever it is, please stop, because I am trying to take a nap and it's rather difficult when a certain crazy bitch is doing Merlin-knows-what in her bedroom, so - why the fuck are you looking at me like that?"
Hermione was staring at him, a glorious plan forming in her head. What more perfect way was there to have her vengeance on Ron than to go out with Malfoy? It was all so clear now, so perfect that she almost laughed out loud. So, so perfect.
"Hey Malfoy, are you free today?" she asked, a smile escaping her lips.
"Yeah . . . why?" he said suspiciously.
"Well, I was wondering . . . if, er . . . if," Hermione babbled, suddenly thinking that this was harder than she thought. "Um, there's a party in the Room of Requirement today, and - uh - I was just wondering whether you wanted to go."
He raised an eyebrow, the simple gesture containing almost as much sarcasm as his smirks. "Asking me on a date, Granger? I am surprised."
"Not really a date, per se," she said, flustered.
"As 'friends'?"
"Er, not exactly . . . "
Suddenly, he walked forward, gazing down lazily at Hermione. The look was frightening, and she didn't realize she was backing away until she hit the wall behind her. Malfoy's eyes were calm, but there was something dangerous about them.
"I don't like being fucked around with," he breathed. "What's your real motive?" He leaned in even closer, almost as if he was expecting a kiss.
Hermione's heart fluttered nervously. "Fine. I want to make Ron jealous," she blurted out, deciding that honesty was probably best.
Malfoy's expression cleared immediately, and amusement touched his features. "Granger, I think you might have some Slytherin in you."
"I do not! This is just personal stuff." She exhaled with relief at his change in demeanor. "So, will you go?"
"Why not. I do love a good Weasley bashing." He laughed. No, cackled. Malfoy cackled.
"Excellent!" she said. "Just be ready by eight." With that, she pushed him out the door, then flopped onto her bed to take her well-deserved nap.
After a few hours of blissful, dreamless sleep, Hermione's internal clock woke her up. A check of her watch told her it was about seven-thirty. She rolled off her bed and went to her closet, wondering what to wear. Rifling through her clothes, she finally chose a simple, pretty cotton dress that she knew looked fantastic on her. To go with that, she selected a pair of strappy sandals. Modest, with a hint of sexiness. She smirked a little when she thought of how Ron would react.
She put on the dress and shoes and threw her impossible hair up into a bun, finally ready. She was about to knock on Malfoy's door when it opened and he walked out, dressed in his outfit. He saw her and stopped in his tracks, and they both sized each other up.
He wore a black dress shirt, the top button or two undone, and a pair of fitted, dark jeans, both of which Hermione found slightly strange.
"So you own Muggle clothing," she said, at last realizing what was off about it all.
"Everyone under the age of thirty does," he replied. His eyes flitted over her body, from her hair straight down to her shoes. "Well, you look nice. Weasley must have done something horrible to be deserving this."
Hermione squirmed a bit uncomfortably, unsure of how to interpret his comment. "Erm, we should get going now . . . "
She quickly bustled out of the dormitory and headed east towards Gryffindor Tower, with Malfoy following closely behind. After a few turns they reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and the ballerina trolls. Hermione stared at the blank stone wall on the opposite side of the hallway, starting to feel apprehensive about her grand plan.
She cleared her throat. "So, Malfoy, we need to go over a few things."
"Sure," he said lazily.
"First, you will call me Hermione, not Granger, in front of other people." He grimaced, but with a leer from Hermione he nodded glumly.
"Next, you will put your arm around me whenever I tell you to - "
He gaped at her. "I'm not going to be your bitch - "
"Hey! You agreed to this!"
"I didn't know you were going to keep me on a fucking leash."
"Arrrrgh!" she screamed. "Just play your part, okay? That's all I'm asking."
"All right! Stop yelling at me."
Hermione rolled her eyes and began pacing up and down the hall, mentally summoning the Room of Requirement. I want to get into the most awesome party ever, I want to get into the most awesome party ever, I want to get into the most awesome party ever . . . Stupid Malfoy. How hard was it to do what she asked? She alternated between thinking of the party and a certain Slytherin's idiocy.
After three rounds past the tapestry, an innocent-looking plain, brown door appeared on the wall. She walked to it and placed a tentative hand on the cold doorknob, inhaling deeply through her teeth. This was probably her biggest, bitchiest act of revenge of her life, and she needed to gather all of her self-confidence, courage, and acting skills.
Then out of nowhere, a hand slithered around her waist, making her jump in surprise. Malfoy's face was alarmingly close for the second time that night, and once again Hermione's heart fluttered.
"A bit close, aren't we?" she said, her fingers still clutched around the doorknob. She took another deep, silent breath and focused her eyes on the grain patterns of the wood.
"Just playing my part," he replied smoothly.
He placed his free hand on top of hers, the one holding the knob. Her breath hitched as she wondered with nervousness and excitement what he was going to do.
"You - turn - it - clockwise, Granger," he enunciated slowly.
Hermione's strange and wild imagination shattered. As if she were mentally unstable, Malfoy grasped her frozen hand and twisted it to the right, the whole time giving unnecessary details on know to do this simple procedure.
"Oh, shut up, you arse," she growled.
With a scowl, she slapped Malfoy's hand off and yanked open the door. She puffed up her chest, Malfoy's arm still encircling her waist, and took her first step into hell.
I hope you guys liked it. Keep up the reviews! They really inspire me. Thank you to silentemotions3, xxxxcrazychickxxxx, Elven at Heart, Miss DnG, Bea Mendes, BeckyBeloved, Veela Potter, brooklynsam3, caseyjarryn, Okikuchan, JackMehoff, E'Claireee, Twitchy the Squirrel, and el-dogg. You all rock.
Stay tuned for chapter 6!