Focus, Draco!

EDIT: I changed the story that Draco is writing. It is different now, so I'd read that part if I were you.

Hermione's internal clock told her it was time to get up. She begrudgingly turned around, her alarm clock reading 6:30 in the morning. It was Saturday, and she had forgotten to add an extra hour and a half's worth of sleep to her alarm. Sighing heavily, she slowly got up and out of bed. No use going back to sleep anymore. She went into the bathroom and turned the water to a relaxing, steamy temperature. Might as well relax a bit before classes started.

While Hermione was upstairs taking a long, hot bath, Draco Malfoy had been up since 6:00 that morning. The summer had gotten him used to writing for a few hours a day, and if he didn't get at least one of those hours, he had trouble sleeping. He wasn't mental or anything. He just loved writing.

Draco was done profiling characters and had his plot done. He was confident enough to not plan a chapter by chapter summary and went straight to writing the Prologue.

In a house full of grandiose and beautiful decoration and design, one would expect to find a small and very wealthy family with one son as heir and one daughter who dreams of marrying a prince. The parents would have grand masquerade balls and social events which the prince would be invited to and organize business deals to make them even wealthier. But underneath the flawless, refined façade, the Granton household was not what it seemed.

Draco's family was a bit like that, too. Of course, they didn't have a daughter like Draco used to wish they had. But it wasn't an unknown fact that the Malfoys were very wealthy. Self-reflection over, Draco shook his head to clear excess thoughts and tapped his pen as he thought of how to phrase his next paragraph.

Xander Granton was the eldest of two children– a daughter and a son– and heir to the Granton Estate. He was different, an adventurous soul that went as he pleased and craved adventure and action– not something a Lord's son should be. He was clever and learned all he knew from books. The library was his safe haven from his parents, who expected him to be everything he wasn't and punished him when he didn't do so. He didn't always listen to directions was always roaming around. Xander is a dreamer and always seemed to imagine a story-tale life– one with parents who didn't abuse him, an adventure that will take him to see places, and a true love.

But his life had anything but what he wished for.

So Xander waited and waited for years to see if a silver lining would come to him. After seventeen years, nothing has come and Xander– scarred and tired– is prepared to change his life himself.

Draco was so engrossed in his intense scrawling that he didn't hear the shower turn on at 6:40, nor did he hear it switch off at 6:49. He didn't hear the bathroom door opening and closing at 7:16, and he definitely didn't hear Hermione Granger walking down the stairs at 7:44.

Well, he didn't notice her until he took a small break to replace his empty pen –having scribbled with this once for almost a whole impressive month and a half already– when his Death Eater, living in-a-war-instincts kicked in. Draco heard breathing, so he hastily slammed his notebook shut, stuffed the aforementioned book and his pen into his desk drawer, and turned around to see Hermione looking at him weirdly.

"Granger! Aren't you up early? I was just. . . organizing my things before classes start! Surely you have already started on that, as a straight O student?" he asked a bit awkwardly. Hermione didn't reply and went to sit on the loveseat, taking up the whole two cushions with her legs.

"I've been up since about 6:30," she said as if it were perfectly obvious. "You didn't hear?"

Draco mentally cursed. He must have been concentrating a bit too hard on his writing. It wasn't his fault that he had been deprived of it for a whole day!

"No, I guess I didn't hear. Too busy organizing. Shouldn't you be down breakfasting by now? I bet your friends are going to be down there soon." He checked his watch. Yup, five minutes until 8:00. Breakfast time was at its high point.

Hermione checked her wristwatch. "Oh, I guess it is time for breakfast!" She got up off the couch and dusted the nonexistent spots off her clothes. "I'll be seeing you, Malfoy!" she said as she exited through the portrait hole.

"Same to you, Granger," Draco called distractedly.

There were times when Draco couldn't concentrate. It was usually after he had a panic attack of any sort or was very startled or something of that nature. It didn't happen often, as Draco had fast reflexes and wasn't easily surprised. But if he was surprised, his adrenaline level went up higher than he considered relaxed and he could no longer sit still and concentrate. It was a blessing and a curse.

Draco picked out a new Muggle pen from his box full of them and stuck it into his secret pocket. Clicking it incessantly helped him cope with just about everything.

He couldn't believe he was almost seen by someone, especially Hermione. If anyone saw him writing (especially Hermione) Draco was afraid they'd tease him endlessly for wanting to be a writer. People would expect a Malfoy to be something more... aristocratic, rich, and money-making, like a Ministry official. At least, that was how it was before the war. Draco didn't care to ask people what they thought of the Malfoys now.

Wow, I really can't concentrate if I'm thinking things as random as this, Draco thought to himself. Bidding his notebook goodbye, Draco got up out of his chair and surveyed his desk top, making sure no evidence was visible. With that being done, Draco exited thought the portrait hole and headed to the Great Hall.

His stomach was growling and that didn't help his concentration, either.