DISCLAIMER: SADLY, NOT MINE, BUT SURELY BY NOW YOU'D KNOW THAT ENOUGH TO FORGO SUING ME.
A/n: okay it's taken me ages to update, I know. But it's summer! I have all these stupid classes and shit because my parents think that having a genius for a daughter is cute. I'm not even smart. It's stupid, and frankly, my braincells are behaving like kamikazis from all the Calculus and organic chem that's being shoved inside me head.
TheEnglishWoelder, angelica8051, Francie, I'llCatchYouIfYouFall, thank you for your reviews! :) this chapter is for you guys! You each get a virtual cookie! Yay!
"This task will be the first of two stages of your initiation, but we will give it to you in parts. You have to accomplish one before moving to the next part. Am I understood?"
"Yes, of course, Father." He replied. "What's the first part?"
"Excited, aren't we, Draco?" His father smiled maliciously. "The Dark Lord wants you to be nice to the mudblood."
"What?!" Draco said, eyes widening into saucers and eyebrows shooting comically up.
"He wants you to befriend Hermione Granger."
Chapter Five-Flashback
October 17, 1998
"Let me carry that for you, Granger." He said as he took most of the innumerable amount of books that the brunette carried. He wanted to hex the bloke who came up with the notion that carrying things for women was chivalrous. This was absurd! The amount of books that she had cradled could have easily outweighed him. Bloody rules of society. He took a deep breath and chanted his new mantra-Granger isn't a disgusting mudblood-despite him disagreeing to the chant wholeheartedly.
She looked at him in shock, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. He smirked at her and she seemed to get back to reality. "What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?"
He turned towards her, and looked at her deadpanned, "I'm serving as an accomplice to a diabolical plan to rule the Wizarding and Muggle worlds through fear and terror by the way of helping a poor, helpless little beaver from getting crushed under the mountain of books that the said know-it-all insists that she can carry."
He smirked. If only she knew how true the sentence was, she probably would have hexed him into the next century.
She glared at him, raising an eyebrow and holding out her arms. "Give them back."
"No."
He hugged her books closer, refusing to backdown from her demanding glare. "Give them back!"
"I said, no."
"What is wrong with you, Malfoy?" Hermione spat as she gave up and strode ahead of him, ignoring the surprised looks of the passing class of second year hufflepuffs. Draco gave them a menacing glare and they immediately scurried away, but not before passing looks between them. 'Bloody Hufflepuffs' the blonde thought, as he sped up to catch up with the mudblood. Honestly, if he wasn't afraid for the life of his mother, he never would have even attempted to do this 'being nice' load of dung. It would have been easier if he was just tasked to kill the beaver instead. At least that experience could have proven therapeutic and satisfying. "You've been acting like this for two damned weeks. Do you need me to get Dumbledore to escort you to St. Mungos or something? Or better yet, I'll deliver you to the psyche ward myself."
"Don't be so dramatic, beaver. I'm just carrying your seriously heavy books. You should be fainting in seventh heaven right now."
"More like wallowing in the pits of the 9th circle of hell for being so close to you."
"You know, most girls would give up an eye to get me to act this way towards them."
"And since when have I given you the impression that I am anything like most of the females that you choose to acquaint yourself with?"
"You know you want me, Granger. Can't deny that." He quipped, flashing her a charming smile. Her scowl deepened and she huffed at him, giving him another one of her glares.
"'Want' is one of the top verbs that I would never associate you with, you slimy ferret."
"Wanna bet?" He smirked, as he wagged his eyebrows at her. She turned into a violent shade of red as she clenched her fists and struggled to contain her anger. One of the best parts about his task about being nice to Granger was that the forced additional contact meant that he was free to rile her up even more.
"Ugh. Drop it, Malfoy." She grumbled, calming her ranging temper slightly. "Again, why are you acting so nice? Emphasis on the acting part. You're still spouting incorrigible nonsense."
"Look." Draco said, feigning innocence. He put as much honesty as he could without seeming like a hufflepuff in his expression. "I'm trying here. Whatever our problems were, it's in the past. Sure, I still enjoy riling you up and making you screech in frustration, but I actually want to work with you without us wanting to skin each other alive or something. I want to get to know you because I'm going to have to spend the rest of the year in relatively close proximity to you, and I'd rather be secure that you won't hex my balls off the moment I turn my back to you. That's why I'm trying to be nice. Plus, we have a truce, and it would do the both of us no good. I... I want us to be friends, or at least, civil, because's that's the best way to get our jobs done. Just stop complaining Granger, and start trying too, for once."
She was silent for a total of five whole seconds.
He must have set a record.
She studied his face carefully, but his earnest face could fool even the Dark Lord, and eventually, her eyes softened as she said, "All right, Malfoy, I'll try."
She suddenly turned around, but not before he saw the blush of embarrassment touch her cheeks. This was too easy. Give her a speech about trying to be good and getting work done and she would accept you with open arms. Stupid mudblood. She could get killed if she continued to be this trusting. But he couldn't blame her much, he was a pretty good actor, if he could say so himself. He quickly followed, adjusting his hold on her barrage of books as they headed towards the charms classroom. This was too easy. He thought, rolling his eyes.
He almost crashed into her as she suddenly turned around, fierce expression on her small face as she stood on tiptoe and came closer towards him, apparently, to intimidate him. She glared at him, before whispering vehemently, "But if I ever get evidence that this is just some pity sob story that you've come up with to play some practical joke on me, then you will have hell and worse to pay. Am I understood?"
He nodded, just barely keeping his face straight. She glared at him some more and turned around again, now walking with even more purpose in her step.
He shook his head as a smirk erupted on his face.
It looks like the mudblood might have some hope on surviving after all.
October 31, 1998
"Hey beaver, who led the Goblin Rebellion of 1438?"
It was a Saturday night, and they were in their common room, studying in companionable silence until Draco got bored enough to start pestering Hermione.
"Freedert the Frailhearted." She replied absentmindedly, not even looking up to meet his eyes. Which were trained on her. She didn't even react to the insult. She had sat like that for the past hour, not minding him in the least and ignoring him despite the racket that he was making. The only times that his attempts at distracting her ever worked was when she mumbled answers to his questions about their classes. She didn't even respond to the insults, for Merlin's sake.
It was downright disconcerting.
Not to mention annoying.
Frowning, he tried to illicit a better reaction again. He decided that a few more insults might just do the job. "What year was the next rebellion again? Of course, you being a little know-it-all mudblood, you'd probably know the exact hour and minute that is started."
"4:57 am, August 24th, 1572. Muggles call it the 'St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre."
She didn't even notice the insults! What was wrong with her? Normally, she would have verbally hit him with a force equivalent to that of a beater's bat hitting a rouge bludger.
But she didn't.
And it was making Draco seriously uncomfortable.
Where did all the vehemence go? Since when did she not hate him enough to return his particularly well thought of insults? Was the sudden lack in her almost constant negative attention due to the fact that he was being nice to her?
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Granger?"
"Hmmm?"
He raised his voice, irritation coursing through his veins. "I asked you a question, Granger! Stop ignoring me and answer it properly!"
She ignored him.
She fucking ignored him.
The nerve.
He stood up, knocking back his books and spilling ink all over his desk. Then he strode towards her, crossing the room in a blink of an eye. He yanked the book that she was reading out of her hands. She looked dazed and confused for a few seconds before a look of rage overcame her features.
That's more like it.
"What do you think you're doing, you slimy little prat?" She demanded, placing her hands on her hips. "Give me back my book! I was on the interesting part!"
He looked at the older-than-Salazar-Slytherin tome and scoffed at her. "What were you on? The hundred different uses of toe lint?"
"No, of course not!" She huffed indignantly. "I've been reading on The magical properties of flobberworm slime combined with powdered goat hoof! Now can you please give me my book back and stop being such a demented and abhorrent prick?"
"Now, now, now, Granger," he tutted, holding the heavy volume tighter. "Where's the fun in that?"
"Ugh, you're impossible." She spat at him, but her glare was no longer as murderous as it once was.
Ever since he had spouted out the wanting to be friends and wanting to change crap (as if he could get any better than he already was), she had gone all soft on him.
Frankly, it was scary.
The past week made him realize that he'd rather face the wrath of his Father and Voldemort combined than lose the ability to make his dorm mate furious.
He should have been proud that his plan worked flawlessly. He should have been celebrating and making sure that it passed on perfectly. But here he was, bemoaning the loss of his inherent ability to put himself in Hermione Granger's to-kill-list.
He was mad. Insane. Positively bonkers.
And he blamed it all on the absence natural ability to exercise and stimulate his creative deviousness.
She snatched the book from out of his hands while he was distracted. Then, she stuck her tongue out at him, but didn't give him the verbal lashing that he seriously coveted.
He had to remedy this change in her reactions towards him. He needed to remedy this.
Oh, what he wouldn't give for one of their famous verbal sparring and screaming matches.
The Dark Lord be damned, for all he cared.
He was going to have to make her hate him to the core again.
November 4, 1998
The last four days had been pure torture.
He had studiously ignored Hermione, going as far as staying silent on their private Heads meeting and letting her do all the talking on their prefect meetings. He even cast murderous glares at her when he knew that she was looking.
All the effort was draining the life out of him.
Why couldn't everything just go back to normal? Why couldn't everything just fall back into place again, with him hating her to the bone, and her hating him to his bone marrow.
He gave another weary sigh. Not talking to her was worse than not receiving insults.
"What's wrong, Drake?" Blaise asked, looking up from his Quidditch magazine. They were in the Slytherin common room, with Draco trying to spend the least amount of time possible in the heads common room. It was nearly one o'clock He was hiding out here tonight, because he was supposed to suffer through another set of rounds with Hermione in precisely thirty minutes. Fan-fucking-tastic. "That's your sixth sigh in twice as many minutes."
"You can count, hurrah for you, Zabini!" He muttered dejectedly.
"Why all the sulking?"
"I'm not sulking, I'm brooding."
"That's practically the same."
"No, it isn't." He sighed again. "They're different. Look it up, why don't you?"
"Drake, you've been acting like a vegetable for the past two weeks, and for the past four days, you've been acting like you're dying or something. Can't blame a bloke for trying to be a proper friend and asking you what the hell is wrong."
"I'm fine." He snapped, and then gave up on the pretense. Blaise was indeed one of his best mates, and he needed someone to pile all of his frustration on. Zabini never did mind if he hexed him. Usually because he would retaliate, but that wasn't the point. Merlin, when did he become such a pathetic arsehole. "Okay, I'm not."
"Elaborate." Blaise said, putting down his magazine to listen. "This is about a girl, isn't it?"
"Yes, no, I don't know." Draco groaned. "I don't even think of her as one."
"And may I ask who this particular bird is?" Blaise chuckled, oblivious to the internal battle, no storm, that was raging on inside his blonde mate's head. "I mean, she must be something if she's got the great Draco Malfoy acting like a thirteen year old school girl."
"Shut it." Draco muttered. "I'm not acting like a thirteen year old. And I don't even like her in the way that you're insinuating."
"Woah, that much amount of denial in one sentence?" Blaise smirked. "I think I've got a clue on who you're referring to."
"And who, pray tell, do you think it is?" Draco remarked darkly.
"Oh I don't know, a certain Gryffindor perhaps? I mean, she's smart and pretty enough to get any boy to look at her with interest, and I've been expecting this since you've fancied your pants off her since third year,"
"I didn't fancy Granger since third year! I still don't!" Draco snapped, sitting up and glaring at his italian friend. "What could possibly make you think of such an absurd motion."
"I never said anything about Granger." Blaise said calmly. If looks could kill, he would have been frothing on the mouth on the floor right now. "I've been with you since our diaper days, Drake. I know you. Everyone knows that you've got a soft spot for Granger ever since she punched the living daylights out of you on third year. Why you liked her after that particular encounter, I'll never know. But you can't deny it, it's practically written on your face every time you guys talk, or rather, scream at each other."
"I'm pretty sure that the only emotions that I feel for that stuck up know it all is hatred and disgust, Zabini." Draco said coldly, challenging his friend to say otherwise. "You must be wrong in the head to think that I actually harbor feelings for that mudblood."
Blaise shook his head, "Could have fooled me, mate. But if you're stubborn enough to refuse to see it, then it's not my problem. But I expect to say a big I told you so when you clear your shit out, grow some eyeballs, and manage to steal a pair of balls."
"You'd never." Draco growled. "Because there is no way in hell that I fancy that damn muggleborn."
"Hmmm." Blaise hummed, rolling his eyes. "But it's true right, she's the reason why you're so agitated right now."
"So? She agitates me all the time. This time doesn't make any difference."
"Mate, you're acting like someone stabbed your mother, or something. I'm pretty sure that this time, there's a huge difference."
"Fine." Draco harrumphed. "I'll tell you, but you better not tell anyone or I'll curse you into wearing tutus and serenading Snape for the next decade or so."
Blaise shuddered, but nodded anyway.
"I'm bothered because she isn't insulting me anymore."
A moment of silence.
Blaise fell off the floor laughing.
"Are"-chuckles-"you saying that"- gasps for air-"you're upset" -chuckles-"because Granger won't talk to you?"
"You're an imbecile." Draco muttered as Blaise struggled to regain his breathing. "And I'm not upset because we're not talking." Although I slightly am. And then he mentally kicked himself for the bad thought, and continued."I'm upset because she isn't insulting me. I mean, I spew my best insults all over her and she doesn't even bat an eye! I'm going mental! It's so frustrating and so annoying! Who do you think she is? She's ignoring me. Me. The Draco Malfoy. Stupid bloody beaver."
Blaise shook his head at him, still laughing. A menacing glare from Draco made him stop and look slightly alarmed. Better, Draco thought, no use having him undermine my authority.
"You're angry because she's ignoring your insults."
"Yes!"
"And you're upset because she hasn't said a mean word to you in the past few weeks?"
"Yes, Merlin Zabini! How many times do I have to explain myself?" He shouted in exasperation.
"You're the most masochistic person I've ever met." Blaise said, shaking his head. The nerve of him. Draco would have murdered him right then and there if there wasn't the fact that he was supposed to meet with the girl of his living nightmares in less than ten minutes.
"Shut it."
"Mate," Blaise said gravely, placing a hand on his shoulder. Then the Italian's face broke out into a full blown grin. "You are so whipped."
He would blow that stupid grin off his face. Suddenly, a voice echoed from the doorway, "Who's got the Great Draco whipped?"
Draco turned around, momentarily distracted from his thoughts of murder and saw that the speaker was Theodore Nott. All thoughts of assassination came back to him again, but everything didn't just involve an idiotic Italian, but also another stupid, meddlesome and oblivious Slytherin.
He hadn't forgotten about the Nott-Granger stint. He should remind Nott that Granger wasn't someone that any self respecting Slytherin should associate with.
He smirked, thinking of how wrong Blaise was. Why would he go through all the trouble of making sure that none of the danger-loving and entirely too stupid idiotic blokes that fancied themselves fancying a certain bushy haired brunette ever go near her monstrosity if he fancied her? Surely, warning-even as far as cursing and confunding-every bloke against her spoke levels of how much he hated her.
"Nott," Blaise greeted. "Where have you been?"
"Around." Theo gave them a chesire smile. "I've been studying in the library, and guess who I've passed on the way?"
Please tell me it's not Granger. Draco thought.
"Hermione!" Theo continued on, unconscious of the escalating murderous intent of his fellow housemate. "We talked about stuff, and then I asked her out to Hogsmeade!"
Blaise eyed him carefully, and ever determined to prove his best mate wrong, Draco wrestled his fury down and managed to choke out, "Did she agree?"
"Yes! I thought she wouldn't, but she did! I-"
Draco stood up, refusing to hear anything anymore. He refused to hear one of his closest friends fraternize with the mudblood. It was just wrong.
"Head's patrol. I'm late." He muttered, and then promptly strode towards the door, and out into the chilly dungeons.
"You're late." Hermione snapped as he emerged from the Dungeon's entrance.
"So what?" He challenged. "Let's just get this over with.
He stalked off, knowing her well enough to be sure that she would follow him. He was still pissed at Nott for asking Granger out, hell everyone knew that she wasn't one to be trifled with. Four years! Four years of blackmail, curses and general intimidation to keep everyone in line, and one of his closest mates managed to defy him.
Bloody wanker.
He would die before he'd let Granger defile one of his Slytherin comrades.
"Why have you been so broody lately, Malfoy?" Her feminine voice came quietly from beside him, pulling him out of his stupor. They were already in the charms corridor, and only a few more floors more from receiving freedom of her presence.
"None of your business." He said sharply.
"Well, I like helping my friends," she said slowly, obviously unsure of herself and her statement. "And since you've insisted to become one of mine, offering my help would be the least I can do after the slavery you've been through to get me to warm up to you."
"I don't want your help." He hissed, continuing on a pace that he knew she had trouble catching up on.
"But you need it," she said softly. "I can tell."
He rounded on her, pinning her against the corridor wall. It was almost dejavu, being in that position, but Draco was irritated enough to not care. He was sick of her being nice to him. He wanted her to insult him again.
And Salazar help him, he was going to do just that.
"I don't need you, or your pity, or your friendship, you filthy little mudblood." He hissed into her hair, and her scent sent shivers down his spine. Shivers of disgust, of course.
A look of shock scrunched up her delicate features, and dare he say it, a look of hurt was there too.
He should have been in cartwheels for knowing that he had hurt the muggleborn. But weirdly enough, he wasn't too happy about it.
"Do you really think of me like that, Malfoy?" She whimpered.
"Yes!" He snapped, frustration forcing him to speak the words that he knew would get him what he wanted.
"I... I thought that you wanted to be friends. I mean, you were so-"
"I was pretending, mudblood, I never wanted to be friends with you in the first place! You disgust me! Why would I ever want to demean myself and call you a friend." He said angrily, staring into her eyes and ignoring the twinges of other emotions that he had felt besides frustration and anger. He couldn't tell her that his father had coerced him into being nice to her, so he told her the next best thing. "Zabini dared me that I couldn't con you into befriending me, and thanks to you, I'm now a hundred galleons richer."
Surprise, shock, anger, fury, sadness and then understanding flitted across her eyes. Draco had trouble keeping up, good thing she was as transparent as glass. When she finally came out of her stupor, she said, "You can't make me believe that, Malfoy. You've changed. I know you have."
This fucking idiotic loyalty and failure to comprehend evil was making it harder for the both of them! Why oh why was she even this stubborn?!
"Changed?" He breathed, putting all the anger in his emotions and words. "I'm not changed. I'm still the hateful bastard that you know and abhor! Face it, Granger, you know that I haven't changed a bit! You're deluding yourself if you think that I've suddenly discarded my devil's horns and replaced them with angel wings and a bloody halo!"
"You just say that, Malfoy! I know you do! You want everyone to think that you're evil; that you're dastardly; that you have no semblance of a heart or that you don't possess anything that makes us human. But you do! I know you do."
"You know I do?" He said incredulously, taking in her defiant expression and matching it with his own. "News flash, mudblood, it's not every fucking time that you're right. I believe this time, you're wrong." He leaned closer towards her, staring her down solidly, "Why are you so sure that this isn't all pretend? That I'm not trying to trick you into liking the bastard that I am?"
"Because you're you." She stated simply. Not backing down from his murderous stare that would have melted any Slytherin into putty. Damn Gryffindor. "Your bark is infinitely worse than your bite. You spew insults out like they're candy on christmas day, but I don't think that you'd ever be evil enough to do that to another person.
Merlin. She trusted him. He could see it in her eyes. She trusted him. Damn it. He acknowledged the guilt that had been coursing through him, what had been a trickle before now was a roaring river that wanted to consume him. She trusted him. That wouldn't do. He needed her to insult him, and apparently, her trust warranted that he was in her good books, meaning that no matter what dastardly act he did, he would never be at the receiving end of her gloriously well-witted fury, that he would never hear her insults, heartfelt enough and containing enough hate to be therapeutic. He couldn't have that.
He was going have to do every damned evil thing in the book to get her to hate him again. He was addicted to her fury, to her anger, to the intensity of the emotions that they exchanged whenever they had their verbal and violent spats. He was more than willing to do anything that would get that back.
The Dark Lord and his stupid initiation be damned.
He would probably survive less longer if he failed to instigate fights with the mudblood anyway.
There was a moment of silence, filled with tension so thick that you'd need a chainsaw to hack through it. Then, she whispered, "You know why else I know that you don't hate me, Malfoy?"
He didn't dare move, and then she continued, "It's because now, we're so close, and you aren't even recoiling, or moving back. If you thought that I was the scum that you insist I am, you would never have defiled yourself with being near one such as me."
Instantly, he retreated from her, stepping back a few steps. He put on a poker face, determined that she wouldn't see what he really felt. "You're wrong." He spat.
He took a deep breath, steadying and preparing himself to say the words that he knew he had needed to tell her.
"You're wrong. To me, you are nothing more than an ugly, self obsessed, stuck-up mudblood who doesn't know where her place is. You insist that you know me, and how I think, but again, you're wrong. And I know why you're so adamant that whatever bullshit that I fed your gullible mind was the truth- it's because you couldn't stand that I had managed to make you befriend me. You're scared that now that you've let me in that everything was fake. And let me tell you right now, mudblood, it was."
She looked shocked, defiant, angry, for a moment, before her face crumbled into sadness. He felt his heart ache-which he of course attributed to heart burn, his family had a history of one, mind you- as he surveyed her pitiful form. "My, my, mudblood. I never knew that knocking you off your high horse would be this entertaining. My, how the mighty have fallen."
She bit her lip as tears threatened to fall from her humungous eyes. "I... I trusted you."
His heart suddenly wrenched, almost making him double over in pain. He must have been having a heart attack. Damn all those nights of sneaking into the kitchen for midnight cookies. Then, he ignored the pain and put on his cold mask of nonchalance. "Your mistake."
Her whole face contorted in fury, but it was undeniable that she still acted as if he had broke her. Then, in a sob, she whispered, "Draco Malfoy, you are the vilest, evilest most undeserving of a chance slimy little cockroach that I've ever met. You're as unfeeling as a brick wall, and a flobberworm would have a heart bigger than you have. You're insufferable."
With that, she ran off into the night.
He had gotten his very much coveted fix of insults. He should have been celebrating, since he got what he wanted and got her to hate him to the core again.
So why was he slumping his shoulders in dejection? Why did he feel guilty? Why did he feel like feeding himself to the Giant Squid.
That was it. He was barking mad.
He probably needed to visit St. Mungos soon.
A/n: P.S. I know that my version of Draco is slightly weird and overall bonkers, but he's cute right? I find his behavior cute. what can I say, I'm into this obsessive thing.
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