Author's Note: Wow, a lot of people liked the first chapter. Thank you so much! I'm glad you've all liked it so far!
I hope you like this chapter just as much. I'm trying to develop more of the sexual tension between the two before I really delve into the plot. I added more personal thoughts of the characters because after consulting a friend of mine who was more "up to date" on Malfoy's personality change in the seventh book she told me his insulting ass-ish manner didn't fit that well. I explained that here. [;
You should check her stories out. Her name is XShadowCatX. She writes Pirates of the Caribbean stories, and they're amazing. XD
Alright, enough talk. Get on with the chapter, yeah?
I own nothing, btw. Just the extremely twisted plot of this too-wrong couple.
Walking out of the train, briefcase in hand and Crookshanks on his heels, Malfoy abandoned his Head Boy duties entirely and went in search of a carriage. Hermione had left him on the train after all; she could take care of the second year directory. The Thestrals were a common sight now to those who fought in the Battle last year, but he still found them somewhat creepy. They were silent, majestic creatures, and they didn't interfere with others. He couldn't help but relate them to himself sometimes: They both kept to themselves and they both rarely appreciated human company.
With a habit-like disgust, he climbed into the carriage already occupied by Potter and Weasley. He was respectful to them while in their presence, because it would be ungrateful to be anything else after all they've done for him. He wasn't ready to consider them decent people yet, hence the continued insulting manner he used when he wasn't around them, but they weren't that bad. It was something that took him most of the summer to realize as he stayed to rebuild the school.
"Ginny will be here in a moment," Potter told Weasley, who nodded. Luna sat between himself and Weasley, which he was grateful for. He didn't know if he'd be able to sit next to one of them yet; he was having a hard enough time being in the same enclosed space as them.
They regarded him silently, keeping to themselves their thoughts of him sitting with them. For this he was also grateful, because he didn't want to get into a row with any of them just yet.
Wands would be used, words would be spilled...It wouldn't be a pretty sight.
Crookshanks hopped up on his lap, catching him by surprise. He nuzzled his head in his stomach reassuringly before curling up and closing his eyes.
"Great, now the cat likes him." He heard Weasley mutter. He felt a surge of rage and fought to keep it down.
"Ron," his sister warned, glaring at him from her place next to Potter. Ginny gave him a small smile before returning to her conversation with Potter like nothing happened. He heard Weasley mutter an angry apology and then was silent.
After the uneventful ride up to the castle he made his way up to the Head's tower to drop Crookshanks and his briefcase off. The password, as his letter had said, was Niffler, and sense Granger didn't even have her badge he could bet she didn't know the password. He grinned down at the cat, happy that something had turned out right today.
He approached the statue of Boris the Bewildered and walked up the spiral staircase after he let him pass. Crookshanks walked in front of him, throwing what he supposed were worried glances over his shoulder every few steps or so. After climbing the two flights of spiraling stairs he found an elaborate arch way of an entrance to the common room. He smirked, hurrying towards it.
He had to brace himself against the wall; he was so surprised at the sight that greeted him. Hermione, in barely any clothing at all, was reading a book in front of the dim fire. She wore a red pair of what he assumed were supposed to be shorts, but they covered less than his own knickers. It didn't help that she was curled up against the side of an armchair, making the shorts expose more of her milky legs. Her tank top was a golden color, shining like the precious metal in the warm light. He noticed, mildly interested, her red bra straps peaking out under the golden material. Crookshanks bounded up to her, bandy-legged and clumsy, as he jumped on the couch. She started, snapping her worn book shut before turning to the two of them.
"Shouldn't you be at the feast?" She asked as she scratched Crookshanks ears. He blinked stupidly for a moment, clearing his dry throat.
"Shouldn't you be at the feast?" He repeated, forcing his voice to stay steady. "You were the first one off the train, after all." He added with a slight smirk.
"I came up here to calm down for a bit, I'll be going down in a moment. Would you care to walk down with me?" She stood up and held her book behind her back innocently.
His eyes darted to her moving foot, scratching the back of her leg shyly. He let his eyes rake up her body, meeting her own too innocent gaze with a glare.
"You did this on purpose," he muttered, setting his briefcase down beside him. She giggled girlishly.
"You made something very apparent to me on the train, Malfoy, and I thought I'd return the favor."
"Return the favor, you reckon?" He asked sharply, advancing on her. He watched as fear flickered in her eyes, as well as anger. She backed up with every step he took towards her, soon ending up pressed against the stone wall of the common room. He pressed up against her, grabbing her hips as he had done earlier, and smirked down at her fearful expression. "And what favor are you returning, exactly?"
She huffed, avoiding his gaze. She looked anywhere but his pale eyes. Finally, she met his gaze and glared at him before pushing against his chest, making him back away. "The knowledge, Draco Malfoy, in which it will be very hard to live with each other if we keep carrying on like this," As soon as she had enough space she sprinted to the bathroom door. Regaining her confidence now that she put distance between the two of them, she turned to him again; a slight smirk playing on her face. "I'm not a child anymore, Malfoy. I know how to be bad, too."
As she closed the bathroom door Malfoy couldn't help but give a snort of laughter. You can't learn how to be bad, he wanted to tell her. It's something you're born with it.
He chuckled again and walked down to the Great Hall, almost certain he missed the sorting. He was glad though, because he never liked it much anyway. He was happy that this would be his last year here, and he would never have to come back to this school again. His favorite teacher was now gone, so now he had to be on his best behavior. He sat down next to Pansy and she gave him a kiss on the cheek, delighted to see him. He and Pansy would have their occasional fling, but only when he was in the mood. She was too clingy for his liking, and he could only stand it when he was in a ridiculously good mood.
This was not one of those times.
He watched Hermione walk in a moment after, annoyed with himself that he was even paying attention to that Mudblood. She glanced at him from her place next to Weasley, curious. He grinned maliciously, turning to Pansy and firmly kissing her on the lips. Pansy gave a sound of surprise, but kissed back all too willingly. Her willingness made him sick frequently. It reminded him of the girls in Muggle books that everyone seemed to hate.
It was his guilty pleasure, reading Muggle books. He knew if his father had ever found out about them he would've been beaten so black and blue not an inch of his pale skin would have been able to be found.
Nevertheless, he read them, and Pansy was a classic example of the "witches" in the stories. He glanced at Hermione, who was now forcing herself to look down at the table, uncommonly interested in the dark wood, and grinned into the kiss. Pansy seemed to take this as encouragement, because she tried to force her tongue past his thin lips.
He pulled back from her then, having enough for a term or two. She pouted, but continued talking to her friends like she previously was. He could hear her conversation though, and she most definitely was not talking about her summer experienceHermione didn't know what to do.
The boy was such a slimy, perverted git it almost made her sick to watch him lock lips with Pansy. He had attacked her twice so far, and they'd only been in each other's presence for a day. This was not like Draco, she concluded, but at the same time she was not acting like herself, either.
The summer at the castle had taught her many things; one thing, most importantly, was that Ron was not the man for her. Her love for him grew into an annoying brotherly love, but nothing romantic. She often found herself getting bored when they would sneak off in the dead of night. He was too much of a routine, and it wasn't something Hermione found enjoyable.
Her hormones didn't fancy anyone at the moment, and she was quite thrilled about it. She didn't have to make sure she looked perfect for a certain someone, and she didn't have to worry about screwing up at random times and being judged. It was quite relaxing, and she hoped it would continue for the year.
She grew bolder, as the boys called it, more unconscious of the rules and regulations. She wasn't innocent anymore, she reminded herself; Ron had taken that from her. She didn't regret it, but she wasn't about to go back to it any time soon. She knew how to seduce boys; it was something Ron would literally go red in the face for when she seduced him. She didn't think strictly innocent thoughts anymore, but that was known only to her.
Now, as she looked over at a smirking Malfoy talking to Blaize, she was fighting fire with fire. She scolded herself, because Malfoy's been using fire for so long it had probably magically morphed into Fiendfyre. She shivered involuntarily; she wasn't that bad.
She enjoyed the feast with Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Ron; Malfoy slipping her mind. Half way through dinner she stopped looking his way and focused fully on her friends, laughing and talking with them happily.
After the feast she left Malfoy to the Head Boy duties, walking up to Professor McGonagall at the Staff table.
"Can't you two do any duties together?" Professor McGonagall asked sharply.
"We'll try, Professor." She said sheepishly before clearing her throat. "Actually, I'd like to know why I didn't know about being Head Girl ahead of time. It's an honor, of course, but Malfoy throwing my badge at me wasn't how I expected to be told."
"Ah, yes, well. If you remember you told me you were planning on returning for the school year as you were leaving, which left me no time to send your letters. I simply told you the books you'd need and you left. Also at that time, Longbottom had gotten his foot stuck in the trick step again, and your Head Girl badge slipped my mind. I figured it'd be easiest to give your badge to Malfoy so he could give it to you on the train." Professor McGonagall stood up, looking down at Hermione sternly. "I hope this is not a problem for you,"
"Oh, not at all Professor," She stammered, playing with the hem of her skirt.
"Good, then that settles it. The password is Niffler; I'll see you tomorrow in class." And she left the Great Hall.
Hermione sighed: that was not how she wanted that conversation to go.
She wanted there to be a mistake, that Malfoy had stolen his badge and was not Head Boy. Apparently though, that was not the case. Malfoy was indeed Head Boy.
She trudged up to the Head Tower, tired and annoyed. She didn't know how she was going to survive this year.
"Granger," She heard Malfoy call. She looked back and rolled her eyes, continuing her journey. "Granger, would you stop walking?!" She heard him yell again, racing up the steps.
"What do you want, git?" She asked sourly as she continued walking; his tall, narrow figure now in tow.
"Language, Granger. You're Head Girl now. You don't want to go setting a bad example for the children, do you?" He met her hard glare with his own smirk.
"You'd want to leave the school then, Malfoy. We don't need the children following after you: they might start shagging in the hallways."
"That wouldn't be a bad thing, actually. It'd be very entertaining. It'd also be educational, you know. They could start a Human Anatomy class..."
"You're revolting, Malfoy. Niffler," She said before walking briskly up the staircase. He followed her, grinning.
"You know, I could be like a Niffler." He whispered as he came up behind her. "I've been known for finding girls special...treasures..."
She let out a frustrated scream as he laughed and ran up the steps ahead of her, disappearing in the common room. She ran up after him, ready to jinx him into oblivion. Turning the corner into the common room, she ran into something.
He grabbed her, groaning once again in her ear. "You know you want me, Mudblood." She struggled for him to release her, and he complied. She glared at his smirk clad face. The fire lit his pale eyes, showing his mirth dancing like flames in a small part of them. She huffed and turned on her heel, storming towards her bedroom. "Still think you know how to be bad, Mudblood?" He asked arrogantly. She paused, her answer the soft click of her door closing behind her.