If I can't Have You
Chapter four In Which Ron and Harry blow up the Gryffindor Kitchen in attempt to cook
"Draco Malfoy is a git, is he now?" He smirked pushing off against the wall as she took a step back.
She summoned all her courage, "yes," seeing the shock on his face for the briefest fraction of a second before forming an intimidating iron emotionless mask once more gave her the strength to continue, "And he knows it," she whispered.
His arms pinned her against the wall, "you really shouldn't have said that," he whispered.
"What are you going to do about it?" She whispered, not really sure where all this courage had come from.
"We'll see about that," he said and without further ado dropped his arms to his sides and walked away down the empty hallway.
~*~
She hurried down the opposite hallway; she didn't know where all the bravado had come from and why the whole encounter bothered her so much. She walked past all the whispering, most likely gossiping about her latest incident, students and to the lake. She sat at her favorite secret spot hidden on the edge of the forbidden forest by dense brush and thickets. An old oak hung a green canopy over head sheltering her from the last of the sun's glares and she seated herself on the rock at the waters edge. She pulled her knees close and tucked her chin in resting her forehead on top of them. Why? She thought, Why me? She sighed and pulled out her DADA essay writing everything from her memory of the Hogwarts library, she didn't dare go there if she didn't want to be disturbed for it was the first place they'd look. She made sure to start it on a clean sheet of parchment and not to write Draco Malfoy is an utter git on it. She loved to read, and just because she was gifted and well motivated didn't necessarily make her "the bookworm—stupid know-it-all" everyone thought she was. She prided herself in being the best, because everyone else couldn't grasp or memorize concepts as well as she could. Pride was a downfall, she always struggled with because she knew she was the best and she struggled to see other's good points. Mildly prejudiced against those who those who didn't know as much as she did, never outwardly but somewhere in the mist of her mind she struggled to not categorize them as stupid because they didn't know as much as she did. She sought comfort in things that were steady, in routine, and familiar— books were for those most part unchanging, and so were the truths contained in them. She liked coming here because it was always there when others had brought her down. With a sigh she brushed the tendrils of hair out of her eyes and shouldering her bag she headed up to the head's dorm.
"Hello," said the soprano high voice.
Hermione was snapped out of her thoughts, "Oh hi Serena," she said politely, "infirmus Rosa."
"Have a good day," she wished swinging open.
"Thanks, you too," Hermione replied, hoping she would.
She opened the fridge after setting her bag against the couch she got to work marinating chicken with Italian dressing, and peeled four potatoes she placed them in the pot of boiling water. She'd made a little bit extra just incase. The Ferret Git of a Malfoy was not there so she didn't even bother to specifically make him anything, if worst came to worst he could have the extra. She sat down with one of her favorite books Pride and Prejudice, sitting on one of the couches. She had barely gotten to the ball scene in which Elizabeth Bennet overhears Mr. Darcy say she isn't pretty enough to tempt him, when the door swung open. She raised an eyebrow at his state. He was wearing his silver and green Quidditch robes clutching his broom in one hand, muddy and sweating with mud in his usual perfect hair, and if that wasn't enough of a sight he was positively enraged. There was a fire in his gray eyes of anger and hate.
"What happened?" she all but laughed
"You don't want to know," he all but spat.
"More like you don't want me to know," she choked back a laugh.
"I don't answer to questions I don't want to answer, where is dinner?" he demanded not finding this situation funny in the slightest.
"In the fridge," she shrugged.
He frowned and turned to the fridge pulling it open, he stared at it in confusion for a minute, "There's nothing in here but ingredients," he spat.
"Exactly," she returned glancing up from her book, "you need to make it yourself, don't touch my chicken or potatoes either."
He all but slammed the door shut, spinning angrily to her, "You made food, for yourself and not for me?"
"Yep," she clarified and returned to her book. She heard him stamp up the stairs realizing he was not going to get her attention and the shower run from in the bathroom. She put the chicken in the oven, and returned to her book, half asleep.
"That's it, I've had it with you, first you make a public spectacle of me at Breakfast in the great hall, then you embarrass me in DADA, and now you make food for only yourself, and I don't know why I am going to be so nice but I am going to make you a simple offer to fix the food situation," He began.
"Because you realize if you're not nice you'll never get anywhere," she interjected.
"I'll cook on Sunday night, and you can cook the rest," he continued as if she had never spoken, leaning against the wall.
She smiled cockily at him, "So you cook one day and I cook seven correct?"
"Yeah," he reaffirmed looking at her in confusion.
"Are you Bloody Nuts!" she shrieked.
He flinched at her sudden outburst, "No but apparently you are."
"No, Mr. I-never-have-to-work-a-day-in-my-life I am not going to cook six days a week!" she protested, rising to her feet.
"Fine, if that's how you're going to be, I'll cook Sunday and Saturday," he sighed, running his hand through his damp silky hair.
"That's it," she laughed with out humor, with a hint of malice in it.
"Yeah," he snapped, "Take it or leave it."
"I'll gratefully leave it," she replied.
"I'll take the extra patrol duty," he bargained on the edge of losing it.
Her eyebrow arched, "very well," she replied calmly.
"Dinners on you tonight," he smirked dropping her hand as if it was infected only seconds of coming in contact with it. She sighed rolling her eyes, "You're unbelievable," she muttered.
"Why thank you," he mocked her, waltzing over to the piano.
She was grateful she had made extra, she thought as she pulled the chicken from the oven and began to mash up the potatoes and heat the corn. She was surprised when lovely notes of a sad song came in the direction of the Grand Piano, and there Malfoy sat in front of it barely looking at the keys his slender fingers pressed against tenderly. She finally scooped the last of the potato divided between the two plates on his plate and placed it in the sink. The music ceased and he turned to face her looking over curiously as to figure out what she had made. She placed the plate on the pine wood table with the silverware. He crossed the room and after taking a bite hesitantly he picked up the plate and without a further word walked up the staircase.
"Hey, where are you going?" she demanded.
"My room," he replied not even looking at her, still moving towards his room.
"What no thank you or anything?" she demanded, placing her hands on her hips.
He turned slightly, "thanks," he shrugged and before she could say anything had shut the door.
She sat down in front of her plate in defeat, "What did you expect he's Malfoy," she thought bitterly stabbing her chicken. She did her patrol duty patrolling the halls in silence, pulling couples out of broom closets and sending them to their respective head and catching pranksters out of bed. His empty plate was with hers in the sink with their glasses. She did the dishes with a flick of her wand wearily and collapsed in bed.
The next morning was the same she had her coffee and went to her classes dutifully after breakfast at which Ron and Harry had apologized and accosted her about her actions yesterday. It was awful having everyone whisper about how she had treated the Malfoy issue at breakfast and the word about her "Draco Malfoy is an utter git" DADA essay. Malfoy appeared indifferent about the whole thing. She was out of her last class when Pansy Parkinson accosted her.
"Draco Malfoy is an utter git, is he?" she demanded her hands placed sassily on her hips.
"Yeah," she shrugged, "what else is new?" and walked off before she could reply.
She walked into the library checked out what she needed and left quickly before anyone could accost her. She pulled out all the ingredients for meatloaf and made more potatoes and began cooking it. She did all her homework in silence while she waited. Malfoy walked in as she drained the potatoes and pulled the meatloaf out of the oven he though his bag. He sat down at the piano and played silently until she was finished and placed the plate on the table. He turned like before and walked over. He picked it up as if he trusted that she wouldn't poison him, and turned to leave. She watched him leave angrily, he closed the door without a simple mention of thanks. She picked at her food bored and finally did the dishes with a flick of her wand and after taking a quick bath she went to bed. She lied in bed for a while tossing and turning she gave up. She went downstairs still wearing an old tight fitting white tee-shirt and black sweatpants that were tighter than she normally would have allowed. She pulled a mug from the shelf and heated the water with a silencing charm placed over the kettle. She picked up Pride and Prejudice where it had slumped flat on the counter. She leaned against the counter and rested her head on the cabinet above her, reading on as she waited. The water was soon ready and returning the book to the counter, where it slumped flat once more, she made herself a cup of tea. She sipped it, burning her tongue in her haste to get the warm liquid to lull her to sleep. She cursed herself for having the third cup of coffee, she'd never get any sleep now. Sighing, she placed the empty mug in the sink too tired to wash it and spell it dry and into place. She looked at his door and at the clock. There would be no-one out on his shift, she could slip out of the Castle and take a midnight stroll. Tempted and unable to resist she slid her feet in her black flats and slipped out the door and past Serena who let her go without question. She snuck past arguing Ron and Ginny, the Gryffindor perfects patrolling the fifth corridor without difficulty. She was lucky and ran into no-one else was present as she slipped out the main doors being careful to make them appear locked but really left open. She ran down to the lake not even bothering to go to her spot but just sinking at it's edge. She didn't know why she needed to be here or for what reason. She skipped a smooth stone against the waters edge, her other arm still wrapped around her knee. She watched as the ripples reverberated, the pale wan moon shown above reminding her of her former professor, he'd be a werewolf now –if he was alive—for it was a full moon. She bent her head low.
"Well isn't this something, Miss I-Love-The-Rules just has to break them, doesn't she?" sneered a familiar voice. She was on her feet and had whirled around to face him in a mere matter of seconds.
"Everyone has their flaws," she shot back calmly, "for me it's resisting a third cup of coffee resulting in no sleep, as for being out at this hour—what's your alibi?"
One side of Malfoy's lip tugged upward for a brief moment, so brief she thought she had imagined it, "My Alibi," he began sneering as if he doubted the word was the wrong word to use, "is not noticing the time and over patrolling and it's a good thing too, otherwise you may not have been so fortunate to have been caught by me."
She laughed without humor, "me-fortunate as to have been caught on school grounds at a late hour by you, humor me, Malfoy, but seriously you need to work on your comebacks."
His face was impassive as ever, still leaning against the tree by the lakes edge, "It was Fortunate that I caught you out of bed during curfew hours instead of Professor Lark, the grounds are his duty at midnight till two tonight."
Hermione's face, against her will, visibly paled.
"You're lucky I am not handing out three week's worth of detentions," he continued mocking her.
"I believe as co-head, twenty points from Gryffindor, and a warning not to do it again I don't think attending the detention tomorrow is what we're supposed to be supervising is such a great idea or example," he sneered, and pushing away from the tree and walking towards her he continued, "as for your sassy little comment on my comebacks, I would not say that if I were you for you are not in a position to say such things."
"But I said them," she said stepping forward, "When exactly I am I getting the favor returned then? What power do you hold over me? You say that I should worry, but quite frankly you haven't given me anything to worry about, you're nothing but a miserable excuse for a fallen former git of a death eater."
"Do not underestimate me," he whispered, his eyes more enraged than she had ever seen them before, "your comments mean nothing you're just a stupid little mudblood."
"Or is that what you're trying to tell yourself?" she spat in his face.
He grabbed her forearms leaning forward so his face was inches from her own she tried to break free struggling in his grasp but he pulled her face towards his captivating her eyes with his, "Never."
She stared at his cold eyes, for a minute before he finally let her go, she looked at him for a moment more and turned on her heel and walked quickly but no-where close to running. She angrily washed and put away the mug with a flick of her wand and continued to her room, where she kicked off her shoes and after a few furious fuming minutes finally fell asleep.
The next morning an owl pecking on her window woke her from her dreamless sleep. She groggily got up still exhausted from yesterday's toll, and brushing aside the curtains she unlocked the glass sliding door that led to her balcony and let the white and brown owl fly through. She pulled the rose scented pure white paper from the crisp white envelope bearing her name.
Dear Miss Granger,
I request you and your co-head's, Mister Malfoy, presence in my office promptly at five o' clock sharp. I trust you two are getting a long splendidly. You need not worry for you are not in trouble of any sorts.
Gratefully Yours,
Minivera McGonagall
Headmistress of Hogwarts Witchcraft ad Wizardry
She turned the neatly scripted page over as if to see if there was more of an explanation. She frowned at the blank pages and placed the note inside her bag. She met Malfoy, already sipping his coffee leaning against the counter lazily, in the kitchen with a grimace.
He returned with a scowl, "I got this –this morning," he said in acknowledgement of her presence lifting an identical piece of paper up in the air.
She grabbed it and read it, it was nearly identical to hers, "I got pretty much the same," she said handing it back.
"I love the part where she says she trusts were getting along splendidly," Malfoy laughed without humor.
"I call a truce," she said suddenly without any humor.
"Good one Granger," Malfoy laughed.
"I am serious," she replied.
His smiled slid off his face replaced with a confused look, "what?"
"Well McGonagall expects us to be getting along, I bet she wants to see if we haven't killed each other yet," she said pacing thinking it out logically, "whether she mentions it or not—she'll be expecting it."
"You mean get along, so she doesn't take our positions and kick us back in the overcrowded dormitories," he said, shuddering about the thought of leaving the spacious head dorm.
"Yes, that's exactly what I mean," she returned, "as much as I hate you I'd prefer to stay here."
"Ditto," he replied.
"Truce," she said holding her hand out, and then as if she remembered something important she started to let it fall to her side.
He grabbed it and shook it quickly, "Truce."
She grabbed her bag and headed out the door, heading towards the great hall and the empty spot next to Ginny at the Gryffindor table.
"Morning," Ginny yawned.
"Morning," She replied.
"I haven't seen you much lately," she commented, shaking the hair out of her eyes.
"I've been busy with Head duties, cooking, homework, ect. I haven't had much free time," she shrugged, and spooned more Egg's Benedict in her mouth.
"I get it, but seriously you should have been there yesterday night while Ron and the boys were trying to cook—they nearly exploded the kitchen, they actually started a fire and everything, McGonagall and the teachers were trying to figure out how to fix everything for like an hour." Ginny laughed, plunging into the story from the beginning dramatically.
Hermione laughed for the first time in days, "so what punishment did they get?"
"Detention tonight," Ginny said shaking her head as they walked out of the hall towards their first class.
"Great, I get to supervise their detention, great," Hermione groaned.
Ginny shot her a sympathetic look and the two parted going to their respective classes. As Five o' clock drew nearer, her stomach furled and unfurled in apprehension. Harry and Ron told their versions of the tale casting themselves more as the damsels in distress than idiots unable to handle cookware, and complained of her lack of visits.
"How's Malfoy?" Harry asked, always the perceptive one.
"Do you even have to ask?" she groaned, "he had a Grand Piano placed in the small sunroom, and now there's like no room to sit. He always complains about my taste in coffee, and he somehow got away with only making dinner on the weekends and an extra patrol duty while I take the normal patrol as well as cooking our dinners Monday through Friday!" she ranted.
"Wow, sounds awful," he replied.
"Well what did you expect he's Malfoy," Ron said with a mouthful of food.
"We did call a truce though," she admitted. Ron dropped his goblet of pumpkin juice.
Harry dropped his fork. And Ginny smiled.
"Excuse me?" Harry said in utter disbelief.
"You WHAT!" Ron shrieked.
"We're pretending that were getting along so we don't mess up the meeting with McGonagall tonight, and lose our positions," Hermione whispered.
"And for goodness sake, stop screaming like an idiot—or a girl for that matter," Ginny smirked saying it loud enough for everyone to hear who'd undoubtedly been listening.
There were a few laughs and realizing that there was nothing but a red faced angry Ron to entertain them, they returned to their meal.
"Wait did you know?" Harry said, surprised at Ginny's reaction.
"No, she didn't tell me, I guessed from the way Malfoy hasn't said one word to her at all today or anyone else for that matter, call it a woman's intuition," Ginny said, and frowned at the boy's extremely piled plates.
"What?" Ron said on the point of flinching from her cool gaze, "We didn't really eat last night, and you girls never make enough," he squeaked earning a few well earned glares from all the girls at the Gryffindor table—aside from Hermione who merely laughed because the matter didn't concern her.
A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates, the LACK of Reviews really doesn't motivate me to update. I can't even count how many people have me on alerts and favorites but there is like no reviews. This is for those who did review, thanks guys! Sorry that this is a bit of a filler. Please review!
~Bella
Preview:
"From what I've seen you too were both clearly responsible and the best candidates for this year's heads," she began, "although I have heard a few interesting things such as a "Draco Malfoy is an utter git" essay," she continued her eyes sparkling and amused while Hermione blushed, "an outburst in the hall about not being shallow after being provoked by a Lavender Brown," Hermione's face turned redder while Malfoy tried not to laugh, "and a certain backfiring revenge plan."