Chapter Two: The Morning After
The first thing Draco Malfoy thought when he saw the Head Girl was: I've hit the jackpot. There was no better scandal than a naked Gryffindor in enemy territory. A sly grin grew across his face as he pictured the expression on Scarhead's face when the news reached him. Finally, Draco would have something over Potter, something the Boy-Who-Lived could not ignore. But just as all the fantasies of success came about, Granger rolled over.
Moonlight from the northwest corner of the room pooled in around her, giving her bare skin in a mystica glow. Her face, framed by the elegant curls, was angled towards him. The soft rise and fall of her chest caught his eye, as he realized she had tangled herself in his sheets. For a moment, he considered her as more than a Mudblood. The way her mouth was turned into a slight smile, and the curve of her frame made him see her as the beautiful woman she was.
Reality came crashing back into focus when he blinked. Draco ran a hand through his hair. Had he really been thinking about her that way? He shook his head, reasoning that he must be more tired than he had thought. Grabbing an afghan from a side chair, he headed out of the room to the common area. He'd sleep on the couch tonight. No reason to touch the Mudblood; he'd only taint himself.
As he settled down on the beige loveseat, he pictured Granger waking up in his chamber. What would she think when she opened her eyes? Would she remember crawling under his covers and...Draco paused. What was Granger doing in his bed? A new idea formed. What if Granger was trying to seduce him. What if she was trying to have one final fling before graduation? Smirking, he left the common area and re-entered his bedroom.
If Granger wanted to spend the night, let her spend the night.
Hermione Granger groaned as she felt the first rays of morning light hit her. Her head felt as if it were in a vice. She gritted her teeth against the pain and opened her eyes. The urge to vomit was cut short when she took in her surroundings. The first syllable of a curse got lost in her throat as realization dawned on her. She felt the blood drain from her face. All around there was silver and green. No burst of red or gold could be found, except on the floor. Hermione surpressed a wail as she noticed several articles of clothing on the floor, all of which belonged to her. Grasping the soft material of the bed sheets, she tied herself up in toga fashion before scurrying into the bathroom.
She was in the Head Boy's room.
Hands gripping the sink, she leaned towards the mirror, inspecting herself. Everything appeared to be alright. There were no signs of assault, not that she could remember much of the night before. Frantic, she turned the faucet, allowing a stream of cold water to run down the drain. She cupped some with her hands, splashing it across her face. The coolness eased her headache slightly. She repeated the gesture several times before turning the faucet back. Her reflection looked pale and weary, not like the stubborn bookworm she was used to seeing. A sigh escaped her lips. Hermione gave herself one last critical glare, then exited the bathroom.
On the bed, completely unconcious (and unclothed) was the Head Boy. His bare chest showed above the next layer of sheets where his pale skin dipped under the dark material. Hermione scolded herself for starring, but her eyes remained on his sculpted muscels. No doubt they were a product of many hours on the Quidditch pitch. She leaned against the door frame watching him as he slept.
He looked peaceful, not like the annoying prat he normally was. His mouth wasn't twisted into an ugl smirk, nor where his eyebrows furrowed in a look of distaste. Instead, he appeared to be content in his slumber. She felt herself smiling, despite the circumstances. He actually looked quite attractive when he wasn't being a ferret boy.
Just as she was about to come closer, he woke up. Hermione held her breath waiting for him to make the first move. Malfoy yawned as he stretched his well-toned arms over his head. Then he spottered her in the archway.
"Morning," he grinned lazily.
Hermione felt a hot surge of anger erupt. "Morning!" she shouted. "That's all you have to say for yourself!" Malfoy gave her a knowing smile and ripped off he bedsheets. Immediately, the Head Girl buried her face in her hands, not expecting to see Malfoy junior. She heard him walking towards her and stumbled back a step. "Don't come any closer!"
Warm breath poured over her earlobe. "I was hoping for a repeat performance," he whispered while maintaining his proximity. A fluttering sensation worked up from Hermione's stomach to her throat, stopping her witty comeback. "Want to share a quick shower instead?" She quickly shook her head, keeping her hands firmly planted over her eyes. A hand slipped around her waist, pulling her up against him. She tried to swallow as she felt the rhythm of Malfoy's heart beating against her chest. "Why not?"
As she desperately devised a way to get free of this confrontation, Malfoy's other hand was plaing with her hair. He was working his way up her neck, playfully toying with her curly tendrils. Her skin was flushing. She cursed inwardly, as she pictured how she must look. She had never been so close to a man before, particularly a naked man. All her knowledge left her as she stood dumbfounded by the Head Boy's actions.
"Cat got your tongue?" he asked, dipping his head to her neck. Gently, he planted kisses along her collarbone. He continued to work his way down until he came to the bedsheet she had tied around herself. He pulled back, grinning. "You can't take a shower with this on." Instinctively, Hermione repositioned her hands to keep the sheet secure. The moment she did, she understood just how evil Draco Malfoy could be. There, standing right in front of her, in all his glory, was the Head Boy; he was completely naked.
"You disgusting little prat!" she hissed, moving to smack him.
He easily caught her wrist. Smirking, he replied, "That's not what you said last night."
Hermione felt the color rise in her cheeks. "I did not sleep with you."
Malfoy cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure?" The mischievioius glint in his eyes told her that he didn't believe she was. He released her wrist. "Now how about that shower, Granger?"
He did not wait for her reply. He waltzed into the stall and turned the water on. Hermione stood motionless for a period of minutes, too shocked to move. Since she had no memories to fall back on, there was only one reality to all this chaos. She had slept with Draco Malfoy, Slytherin bad boy, son of a Deatheater. Her mind tried to comprehend it, but the truth of the matter was harder to grasp than Ancient Runes homework. No knowing what else to do, she ran out of the room.
Seconds later, she was safe within her own chambers. She stood with her back against the door, trying in vain to control her breathing. What had happened last night? She vaguely recalled going to Gryffindor tower after dinner. She remembered reviewing her scrol and then talking to Dean Thomas. He had given her a firewhiskey and then...
Hermione vomitted. She had gotten drunk! Of all the things to do. She had been drunk and must have wandered right into Malfoy's room.
Retreating to the bathroom, she tried to remember something else, anything that could prove she had not had sex with the Head Boy. Nothing came. She retched into the toilet. How was she going to face Harry and Ron? How could she tell her best friends what she had done? Another wave of naseau hit. She bowed her head in submission. The contents of her stomach emptied as a new thought popped into her head. Harry and Ron weren't the only ones she had to worry about. They weren't even the worse.
What if she was pregnant?
Hermione sat back on the cold tile flooring. Malfoy's baby? She couldn't have a baby. What would she tell the Ministry? She had already accepted their job proposal for the Department of Mysteries. She couldn't start now and leave in nine months. And what about her parents? How was she to explain to them how she had decided to experiment with drinking and now was carrying the child of a Deatheater? How would Ricard and Anne handle the news of their perfect daughter having a one night stand with a wizard sworn to hate Muggleborns? Her head began to swim as she pictured the encounter.
She forced herself to crawl into the shower. One hard yank to the handle and the water came down upon her. It was warm and relaxed the tension in her back. She slowly allowed herself to rest against the marble walls. She knew contraceptive charms, as did Malfoy. She was fairly positive that either one of them would have performed one before they got...involved. The idea made her shiver. It caught her off guard when she thought of spending the night with Malfoy.
Willing herself to be strong, Hermione planned what she would do. If there was one thing she had to do it was to let Malfoy know he hadn't gotten to her. She couldn't lose her nerve. She had to remain strong to face her enem. If he knew he had power over her, the few remaining moments she had at Hogwarts would be disasterous. She had always thought her graduation day would be a monumental time when she would celebrate the end of school and the beginning of her independent life. Just because she had made a mistake the night before didn't mean she couldn't still have her day.
In a matter of minutes, she was clean and dressed, ready to enter the Great Hall for breakfast. As she walked through the corridors, she thought of all the valedictorians who had graduated before her. They were all strong women and men would wouldn't have let something this trivial hold them back. She belonged in this position. She had worked for seven years to recieve this honor. No one deserved it more than her. She fixed a smile on her face and entered the room. Everything appeared normal. Everyone was talking excietedly about another school year brought to a close. Content with the setting, she headed over to join the boys at the Gryffindor table.
That's when Hermione spotted someone occupying her seat: Draco Malfoy.
Draco wasn't suicidal; just unaware. He had known he had pushed Granger this morning with his seductive stunt. What he didn't know was just how far he had pushed her. As she walked over to the table, he seriously considered running. Not even Medusa could glare like the Head Girl. On the other hand, he found himself thinking she looked amazingly hot when she was pissed. So he took his chance and remained in his spot.
"What in Godric's name are you doing here?" she snapped.
Draco recalled all of his Malfoy ettiquetteand turned away from her. He paused for dramatic effect. Then, when her breathing had gotten loud enough to wake the dead, "We need to talk," he replied simply.
"No, I"ll tell you what we have to do," Granger hissed, "we have to figure out where to hide your body because when I'm done hexing you-"
"Hermione," the Weasel butted in.
She silenced him with one look. Then she was back on Draco.
"I may look innocent, but I've read quite a few books on the Dark Arts and I'm sure I can find a hex that will-,"
"You know all this hostility is a result of you suppressed sexual desire for me. But I guess you already knew that, right? It would explain why you were in my bed last night."
That statement silenced the Head Girl. The Gryffindors seated near enough to hear his comment stopped pretending to ignore the confrontation and watched him. On the other sideof the table Scarhead and Weasel sat open mouthed in shock. Draco just smirked.
Until Granger's fist collided with his teeth.
The sound of her strike echoed through the Great Hall as if the chamber were empty. While he clutched his bleeding mouth, she stood before him breathing heavil. Footsteps could be heard racing towards them; the professors no doubt had seen the incident. Granger didn't budge. He gave her points for not leaving. She was one of the few Gryffindors who actually deserved the title "brave."
"Miss Granger, what on earth-," Professor McGonagell was the first to speak.
"Do you know what the punishment for physcially assaulting nother student is, Miss Granger?" Natuarlly, Snape was next to yell. Draco could almost see his grin. Snape had been dying to find a reason to penalize the Head Girl.
"He started it!" Weasel shouted, pointing at Draco.
Ignoring him, Snape spoke to the Headmaster. "She should be expelled, sir."
"What? No, she's Head Girl, Albus. The brightest witch we've had in over a century. Can't we overlook this?" McGonagell inserted, with a look of concern.
As the teachers tried to figure out what was to be done, Scarhead was holding Weasel back from using an Unforgivable curse and Draco was watching Granger. Her hazel eyes were glaring into him with pure hate. She appeared completely unaware that she was about to lose her status as valedictorian, a benefit that would shortly be bestowed on him. She took no notice of her friends, as they tried to determine if what he had said was ture. Despite the chaos going on around her, Hermione Granger was utterly focused on one thing; him.
The intensity in her gaze was something he was not prepared for. He had never seen one person so concentrated. It was hard to look back; almost like having a staring contest with the sun. She was harsh and cold looking, not the mystical goddess he had found slumbering in his bed the night before. Suddenly, he felt a stab of guilt. He realized his fun had jut cost her the life she had been planning, striving, and sacraficing for all seven years she had been here. He had taken her initiative, her patience, her strength and he had crushed it all in one instant.
He deserved to be hated.
"Miss Granger, will you please follow me," Dumbledore said, gently taking her by the arm.
She flinched at his touch, shocked by out of her silent competition. That was when Draco noticed the tears in her eyes. She was broken. She had fought him with all she had, but she had lost. He knew he should have been pleased, afterall, she was just a Mudblood. Everything in his being told him that he was living up to his father's expectations, Salazzar rest his soul, but Draco felt no pride. As he watched her be escorted from the room, he felt regret.
Slowly, he found his feet and made his way over to the Slytherin table. His fellow housemates clapped joyously for his efforts, but all he could hear was Granger's enraged voice. Droplets of blood decorated his empty breakfast plate. He did not bother to wipe them away. His appetite was gone.
"Draco, you should see the nurse," Pansy coaxed him, touching his arm.
He nodded and got up. Blindly, he walked up to the hospital wing. He didn't answer when Madam Pomfrey asked what had happened. When she gave him a vile looking liquid, he gulped it down all in one swallow, ignoring the bitter taste.
"You can leave now, Mr. Malfoy," the Medi-witch addressed him. Draco muttered a quick "thanks" and wandered out of the hospital. His first impulse told him to go back to his room, but the idea of being there sickened him.
Instead, he went to the onlly place where he could think: the Quidditch pitch.
Meanwhile, in the Headmaster's office, Hermioine was seated in front of Dumbledore's desk, surrounded by the staff of professors. She was staring at the floor, trying to wrap her mind aound everything that had happened thus far. She had told herself that punching Malfoy would only hurt her, but he had pushed her too far. She had not been able to resist the urge to hit him. Silently, she awaited to hear what judgement would be passed upon her.
"Miss Granger, you have done a great deal of service to this institution since you arrival," Dumbledore began. "You're grades have always been exceptionally high and you have never turned down a fellow student who needed assistance." Hermione groaned inwardly. Professor Dumbledore was building her up because the staff had reached a decision. She bit her bottom lip, knowing what the Headmaster was about to say. "However, your recent actions were, shall we say, less than noble. Though I see no reason to revoke your position as Head Girl since it's the end of the term, the majority of the faculty wish to see another student give the valedictorian speech at the ceremony this afternoon."
Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes. She started to breathe through her mouth, so the teachers wouldn't hear the sniffle in her nose.
"Of course, you will maintain beging valedictorian on our records and your permanent file," Dumbledore quickly added,"but during the ceremony, you will join your classmates in the stands."
"I understand," Hermione nodded, trying to hold back her tears until she had been dismissed.
"Miss Granger, please understand-"
"It's fine, Headmaster," she said, her voice breaking slightl. "I'm going to- um - I needed to finishing packing."
"Very well, Miss Granger. You are dismissed."
"Thank you," Hermione muttered, before running out the door.
Her vision blurred as she hurried through the empty hallways. She had no idea where she was headed. Her dorm was out of the question, as she was sure Malfoy was there ready to gloat. She knew ver well that he was next in line to be valedictorian. He'd be a prime canidate for the speech. Gryffindor tower would have been perfect, but she couldn't face her peers, not now, not after what had transpired in the Great Hall. She continued running, knowing she could find sanction in the library. When she reached the doors, her heart dropped.
It was closed.
Hermione sunk to the floor, holding her knees up against her chest. Everything was a mess. She felt completely overwhelmed. First she had gotten drunk. Then she had slept with her roommate. After that, she had smacked him in front of everyone. Her graduation priviledges had been taken and if all of that wasn't enough, she had no where to go.
The tears washed down her face. She couldn't even begin to think about how her parents would take the news. They were due to arrive an hour before the ceremony. How could she tell them that she would not be speaking? She clutched her kneecaps tighter. Disappointment rushed through her. She had invertently ruined everything. All of the times she had followed the rules, all of the moments she had passed up to be safe, all of it was a waste. In her final day at Hogwarts, she had compromised everything she had worked for.
And she had no one to blame for it but herself.
