New chapter! Hope you guys like it. Special thanks to resina, harrypottergeekychick16, InsaniumArtisan, gretchenbell, LovelyAshes, kvance, bluebook1496 and 4littlemckay for your reviews - I really appreciate you taking the time to leave me some feedback :) I only own my OCs, everything else is JK Rowling's (unless I made another reference and then forgot about it. This always happens, I slip them in, have a giggle and forget to put them in the disclaimer. Woops.) Anyway - enjoy!
Valentines' Day came and went, and Draco made a point of not seeing Hermione. He spent the whole day shut in his room, where he knew she could not find him. He was tempted – very tempted – to send her something in the post, but he knew that without his name attached she would never even open his gift. The idea of being famous – let alone being famous, single and incredibly attractive – seemed to make Hermione incredibly uncomfortable; he knew for a fact she never opened half her fan mail.
So he let Valentines' Day slip through his fingers, and neither he nor Hermione mentioned it to each other.
He would have said something, if the Dark Mark was not still burning on his arm.
Flashes of pain had scrawled up his arm three more times, and now the snake and the skull gleamed blacker than ever on his pale skin. It was constantly burning now, always itching. He'd begged some bandages from Madam Pomfrey and every day, before he drew back the curtains on his four poster bed, he wound them around his arm, from wrist to elbow. It didn't stop the pain, but it still helped. It was nice to look down at his arms and not see it branded there.
She had noticed, of course. She always noticed, no matter how much he tried to hide it. He pulled his sleeves down as far as they would go, but she still saw the bandages.
She thought he'd burnt himself at first, but she worked it out soon enough.
An owl rapped on the dorm window and he let it in. It was a sleek, handsome screech owl – his father's favourite – with a letter tied to its leg. It hopped inside dorms and sat on his bedside table, waiting. It was perfectly still, its large, proud eyes trained on the letter as Draco unfurled it.
Instantly, he knew that something was wrong.
It was from his father. Usually, Lucius Malfoy prided himself on his elegant hand – according to him, it was 'one of the marks of a truly well-bred wizard' – but in this letter, his handwriting was so bad it was barely legible. It looked as if a spider had run across the parchment, and Draco felt his stomach twist in fear at the sight of it.
Dear Draco, he read, his hands shaking, take care, my boy, for times are growing ever more difficult. I have just received word that one of our old acquaintances will try to contact you – I cannot say more for fear this letter is intercepted. You must not listen to him. Only the castle is safe for you now – you must stay there at all times or I fear you will be in terrible danger. I will do all in my power to track him down but until then, you must stay inside the castle.
Your mother and I are thinking of you, as always.
Father
Draco set the letter aside and stared at his burning arm.
The news that Hermione Granger had publicly turned down Charlie Jackson on Valentines' Day, and in the middle of the Hogsmeade high street, had spread around the school like wildfire. Draco listened to the story with a smirk plastered across his face, which faded very quickly when he heard that Ron Weasley had shown up and 'rescued' her.
He did not, however, expect the story to find its way into the Daily Prophet. But sure enough, on a particularly slow news day it was plastered across the front page, complete with a photo of Ron and Hermione coming back from the Shrieking Shack.
The only part of the story that made him feel slightly better was that picture; he could see very clearly that they weren't holding hands. Charlie himself had given an interview, and there was a picture of his big, stupid face on page ten. He was pulling an innocent-yet-heartbroken face which, in Draco's opinion, made him look like he was about to throw up.
The real Charlie Jackson was sitting at the Gryffindor table, smirking at the paper. Hermione was a few seats down from him, her eyes trained on her cereal. Her cheeks were flaming red and she wasn't looking at anyone.
He could hear Charlie braying about the interview from halfway across the hall, laughing at the top of his obnoxious voice.
"…and maybe even a book deal. Spill all the secrets and make a packet from it. They've invited me to this launch party, Winona Merryweather is going to be there. Yeah, her with the legs…"
Draco clenched his fists under the table. He forced himself to finish his breakfast and headed for the door. Over on the Gryffindor table, Charlie Jackson stood up.
He had just stepped out into the deserted Entrance Hall when he heard Charlie's voice.
"Oi! Malfoy!"
He ignored him, and sauntered off towards the Slytherin Common Room.
"Oi! I'm talking to you, Malfoy!"
He turned around. A small group of Gryffindors were standing behind Charlie, who had his fists clenched and his feet set wide apart. His barrel chest was puffed out, his jaw jutted forward and he looked more like a bull than ever.
Draco smirked at him, his hands in his pockets.
"Save your breath, Jackson. I won't go out with you, either."
Charlie's face flushed as one of the girls behind him stifled a laugh. "You're asking for it now, Malfoy. I'll grind you into paste."
"I'm sure you will, Jackson," Draco drawled, his hand curling around his wand, "but there's something I'd like to ask you first."
Charlie blinked at him, stupidly. Draco grinned.
"How on Earth did you manage to get a book deal when you're too stupid to spell your own name?"
Charlie started forwards. Two of the Gryffindors grabbed his arms, holding him back, and Draco watched, amused, as his face slowly started to turn purple with rage.
"As if you could do any better!" Charlie spat, "who'd want to hear anything that you'd have to say? You're a slimy, backstabbing little prat, Malfoy, so twisted that no-one in the wizarding world would ever want to go near you, let alone Hermione Granger!"
Draco said nothing.
"She doesn't know a good thing when she sees it!" Charlie spat, "just a stuck-up, prissy little know-it-all who thinks she's better than the rest of us. But if you're slime then she's no better, she's just a lucky little Mu–"
Two things happened in very quick succession.
The first was Hermione Granger stepping into the Entrance Hall, her eyes wide. She looked like she'd been slapped, and out of the corner of his eye Draco saw Ginny close behind her, puffing up like an angry cat.
The second was Draco curling up his fingers, drawing back his fist, and punching Charlie Jackson right in the face.