Chapter Six
Malfoy's Pages
Seven in the morning Hermione stretched across her bed yawning, but awake. She half expected to wake up in her dormitory room with the other girls. She was alone. It felt strange waking up in someplace new. In the first few seconds she forgot how she got there, and then she remembered. Dread filled her. She set a task for that day, and it was to avoid Malfoy at all costs.
Normally Crookshanks would now be scurrying around the room after a stray mouse, but he wasn't there, she had sent him to live with her parents. She was grateful they didn't ask many questions, she didn't have an answer prepared to why she was sending him off. They didn't know she was in hiding. The only reason she sent Crookshanks off is because she didn't know how Malfoy would handle cats. Especially her cat.
It was Saturday, that meant no classes, and no homework. Unlike any normal student this didn't make her happy especially being in the situation she was in now. She wanted to do something to keep her mind off of who she was sharing quarters with. Then she thought of the bookshelf in the sitting room. After breakfast she would get started on going through it.
In the kitchen Malfoy sat in the same seat he did yesterday with the Dailey prophet in one hand, and in front of him a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and a glass of orange juice. He wore only boxers, his chest bare, and his hair looked as if it hadn't been brushed, it was sticking up in odd places. She was about to leave when he called out.
"I don't mean to break the rules here, but there's some still on the stove if you're hungry."
She looked curiously at him, and though he didn't look up, he must have sensed this.
"I'm only offering because I can't eat it all."
Hermione chose to ignore this last comment, and helped herself. A part of her that would be called pride didn't like taking Malfoy's food, but she didn't like waste, and she was hungry. Her stomach won over in the very short debate. When she settled at the table with her plate, and glass of milk did she think that she might enjoy a meal in peace. Then Malfoy spoke again.
"Don't get used to this, mudblood."
She didn't give him the pleasure of responding. She took a bite of toast to keep herself from retorting back. She ate quickly, rinsed her dishes setting them in the sink, and hurried to the sitting room. She took a random book from the shelf, and settled herself on the couch, her legs draped over the arm of it, and began reading immersing herself so much in the world that she didn't hear Malfoy walk through the sitting room, and leave upstairs, nor would she care.
Hermione left her position on the couch once for supper. Malfoy never came down, and she kept to their rule that they were not to speak, and fixed a peanut butter sandwich. She ate quickly in order to get back to her book where she left off at a climax. She had to know what happened. And so the next time she put her book down the sun had vanished under the horizon.
She rubbed her tired eyes, and thought suddenly of her journal. She had never unpacked it. She had lost the desire to write in it lately, she didn't feel the need to depress herself further by writing that a classmate planned to kill her, but now that it had changed, for the moment, she would begin writing in it again.
She reached for her wand next to her. She kept it close to her at all times since she overheard the conversation that pronounced her supposed fate. She rose it in the air, and said the incantation, "accio journal!"
Soon a black bound leather book flew at her. She was confused, her journal was brown, and soft felt. She had no idea what book this was. She looked at the back, and saw in emerald words "Draco M." Her eyes widened. She had Malfoy's journal!
Hermione ran her fingers along the spine. She shouldn't read it. It was private. She was already breaking the rules by simply having it in her hands. She was all about morals, she inflicted them upon others. She breathed. If she only took a peak, maybe should could understand her new roommate better. But why would she want to? Already she was gaining a headache by the insisting ping pong war in her head. Curiosity got the best of her, and she opened it up.
1/9/91
Mum says that I have to keep this journal... I am not sure why... But I'm an obedient son, and will do as I'm told.
Today was my first day as a Hogwarts student. It was a bit frightening to be honest, but the hat barely touched my head when it sorted me into Slytherin. Father is going to be so proud, when I arrived in my common room (hauntingly glorious as father told me it would be) I owled him. I am determined to make him proud. I will be the best son there is.
Crabb, and Goyle were also sorted into my house. Bunch of dunderheads if you ask me, but I suppose they'll be worthy to flank me in my years here. For now, I'll have to find a safe place for this journal... I think the loose floorboard I found underneath my bed would be a suitable place.
Even from the beginning he was arrogant. Hermione turned a page, and read on reading only where her, Harry, or Ron was mentioned.
10/9/91
This Granger girl... Bushy haired, know-it-all, all the teachers favorite. School has hardly started, and she has them wrapped around her finger. Her, the Potter, and Weasel... They'll meet their end one day...
Hermione could have burned holes in the paper with her eyes. He really did hate her from the start. She skipped some pages.
25/12/91
I'm home for the holiday. Christmas was as usual wonderful. Tons of gifts, a huge dinner that I am still stuffed by. Yet my parents barely speak, and when they do the only ask to pass the salt. Sometimes my father will go into a rant about work, about Weasley.
In truth I have to remain tough, my father expects me to be so. Since this is my journal, perhaps I can release some feelings that I would normally cringe upon. I don't care for the presents, or the big dinner. What I want is for my parents to speak, and talk to me as if I'm not another heir to the Malfoy fortune.
He had feelings...? She flipped through some more pages.
5/9/92
As I have mentioned my father bought the Slytherin Quidditch team the best brooms in the world, Nimbus 2001! I was immediately offered a place on the team, of course. Anything to beat Potter, but today had its other perks; Weasel cursed himself today. Granger had been inexplicable, and dared to say my father had bought my way in. I called her the only thing I could think of at the time: a mudblood. Weasel thought he was going to use his Gryffindor courage to hex me. Didn't have to lift a finger to watch him fly across the Quidditch field. Only someone with fluff for brains would use a broken wand. Today was a good day.
Hermione gritted her teeth remembering that day. It took half the day for Ron to stop coughing up slugs. She skipped some more pages.
13/12/92
Soon the school will be rid of those mudblood, and mudblood lovers like. If the Slytherin Heir keeps this up Slytherin's will be the only ones left. Next year will be wonderful without all the fawning over Potter, and his stupid friends.
She flips through again.
11/6/93
I am home, and the mansion is quite lonely. I never get the greeting I hope for when I exit out of the train. I would never hope for such affection if I haven't seen it given to the other kids. Their parents hug, and kiss them enthustically. They act embarrassed, I would be proud. Unfortunately those actions are wrong. "We are Malfoy's, we are proud," so says my father in a different definition of pride.
This was a new side to Malfoy. She started to turn the page, but heard a noise from upstairs. She snapped the book closed, jumped up, and ran upstairs as a rush of fears did their own running through her head. Deatheaters, Voldemort, being found, captured, killed. She checked her room, and her bathroom, wand tightly in her hand, but no one was there. Without thinking she dashed to Malfoy's door. Without knocking she opened it, and saw him crouched by the nightstand, surrounded by glass, his hand bleeding.
Hermione threw the journal that she hid behind her back to the side, and went to kneel beside him. "What happened?"
"Get out," he snarled at her clutching his bleeding hand.
"Mal-"
"Get out!"
"I
can -"
"Don't make me hex you, Granger!"
Hermione kept to her ground. She stared at the blood that was dripping onto the floor. He was clad in only his boxers like he was at breakfast. His wand didn't appear to be on him. She said, "go ahead, then."
"What? You want me to hex you?"
She smirked. "Where's your wand?"
It was dark, but she could see him blush. Another new side to Malfoy. He blushed with embarrassment, and stood over her expecting to scare her. "I don't see where that's any of your business, mudblood. Are you forgetting the rules? You're breaking all of them." He crossed his arms over his chest blood being smeared on his torso.
Hermione looked him over. He was thin, but not sickeningly so. He was fit like most Quidditch players were. She looked away uncomfortable with their position, and she got to her feet. She knew she was blushing furiously too. She forced herself to look him in his cold gray eyes. "I just thought I could help is all."
"I don't need any mudbloods help -"
"A new rule, Malfoy. You call me that word again, and you'll be the one that's murdered." She walked out shutting the door behind her, not taking in his reaction. She picked up his journal that she left on the floor, and took it to her room. She couldn't believe that she was starting to consider him having a heart, but why would he lie in a journal?
She closed her door, and on her bed she fell on her back, his journal, and her wand in her hands. She did break all the rules that day.