A/N: Hi guys! So here's the first chapter! I've actually had this ready for ages, but I've been so busy with my birthday, and also the National Big Sing Finale competition, which my choir won platinum for the fifth time in six years (super stoked about that, seeing as it's my last year and all)! All in all, it's been a busy couple of weeks, but don't worry there's heaps more where this came from! (Like, seriously heaps. I have at least a quarter of the whole story written already). Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Feel free to review, follow and/or favourite, reviews are always appreciated!
Love,
Chongy :)
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Chapter 1: The Seed
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He sat in his room, reading. It was all he ever did now. Now that the Dark Lord was back, Draco hardly ever saw his father, as he was probably preparing the house lest his master arrive for a visit. Draco had seen through the deception immediately, knowing that Voldemort only did the 'visits' to keep tabs on his followers, and ensure they were worshiping him endlessly by always being submissive and at his beck and call.
Narcissa entered, quietly closing the door behind her. "A letter arrived for you, Draco darling." She said, a small smile on her lips as she placed the envelope on his open book. He picked it up, scrutinising the green lettering. "It's from Hogwarts, dear."
She was buzzing with barely contained excitement, and Draco watched her questioningly as he turned the envelope over in his fingers and opened it. He slid the letter out, and as he did so a hard shiny something fell onto the floor. His eyes glued to the words on the parchment, he picked up the something with trembling fingers.
Dear Mr Draco Malfoy,
On behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, we would hereby like to congratulate and invite you to accept your position as a prefect of Slytherin House. Enclosed is a Prefect badge, with your name and House inscribed on the back.
Congratulations again.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Chief Wizengamot, First Class
Elation filled Draco, making his head spin and his tongue feel thick in his mouth.
"Well?" Said Narcissa, beaming at her son.
"I… They made me… I'm a… a prefect?"
"Oh! Congratulations, Draco darling!" She cried, gathering him in a motherly embrace. "I love you so much! I don't think I tell you enough just how proud I am of you." Narcissa pulled away from him, studying his face with a tender expression. "You're going to grow up to be a good man. I know it."
It was the last time he'd seen her since her capture.
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"And that leaves you two, so that means you and Hermione will be patrolling together, okay? I don't want any complaints from any of you, capiche?" The glare was aimed at the knot of Slytherin prefects. "We need to promote inter-House unity, people, what with You-Know-Who back and all. It's important for morale and just in general for the rest of the students here. But, I digress. Welcome back, and congratulations again for gaining your new positions as prefects. Alright, meeting's over, folks. You can go back to your common rooms and get some rest after that long train ride. 'Night!"
Draco stared at the Heads' retreating backs in unadulterated horror. Him? Patrol with her? The filthy Mudblood? They had to be joking. It was all a mistake, a misunderstanding. He was probably doing patrols with Macmillan or some other bumbling idiot. Not Granger. Not the Know-It-All. But, as he watched everyone walk away, some already chatting animatedly with their assigned pair, Draco felt a sinking feeling somewhere in his stomach and a headache looming in the back of his head. It was real. Fuck. He stormed out of the Great Hall, making sure to roughly shove past Granger with unnecessary force.
"See you 'round, Mudblood." He spat, a sneer on his face. "And you, Weaselbee."
When he got back to his room, Draco sat down unceremoniously on his bed, sighing loudly and massaging the bridge of his nose as his headache worsened, wondering distantly just exactly how he would survive a whole year with the Know-It-All. He could barely stand the people in his own House, and they were supposed to be his friends. How on earth would he cope with the Mudblood?!
Sighing quietly, he changed out of his black suit, opting for a casual button down shirt with some loose pants, casting a disillusionment charm as he did so, lest his House mates see him. A long walk by himself would see him right. It was his outlet: instead of punching walls, which hurt, he had found that going for long walks or runs in the huge Manor grounds were the perfect way to release all his anxiety, anger and fear. And the exercise had helped with his chronic headaches. Tucking his wand into his pocket and slipping into a pair of comfortable shoes, Draco set off, blending into the background of his Common Room and sliding out through the door. As soon as he escaped the double oak doors of the Castle, he felt the air lighten, felt some of the pressure released from his shoulders.
Dropping his façade and feeling more at peace with himself than he had for a while, Draco made his way to the Lake. The mask of hate and indifference that he always wore slipped away, and he visibly relaxed despite the crisp air. Stepping out of the shadow of the Castle, he watched the stars in the clear night sky, wondering if his mother was one of them.
Back in the Great Hall, Hermione watched Draco leave with a roll of her eyes and a muttered "idiot" as Ron shook his fist and checked that she was okay.
"Yes, yes Ronald I'm fine, honestly!" She assured him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear distractedly as she gathered her books together. "He's just an insufferable git."
"I'll swap with you, I'll ask Oliver-"
"Really, Ron, I'll cope. I'm stronger than you think. I can handle that toe-rag."
Ron shot a disparaging look at Hermione before turning to watch the last flash of blonde disappear around the corner. "I hope so, Hermione."
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Hermione sat next to Neville in Potions, her already bushy hair even curlier and frizzier from all the magical steams mingling in the air from the class's cauldrons, biting her lip in concentration as she carefully poured two pod's worth of juice into her own cauldron. It was the final step in her potion, she just needed to stir it once, twice… two more times and it'll be perfect! The deep honey-gold colour was slowly fading to a silver with a faint tinge of blue; she could see it collecting around the edges. It was nearly perfect, and the silver reminded her of something she couldn't quite place her finger on.
Suddenly a Devil's Snare root came flying out of nowhere, landing in her cauldron and turning the delicate colour instantly black and lumpy, splashing the hot liquid everywhere. She let out a gasp as the contents of her cauldron suddenly became extremely volatile, shooting out of the top and sloshing around the classroom. Scowling, and trying not to cry from the scalding goop coating her face and hands, she looked around and locked eyes with Draco Malfoy. His upper lip curled cruelly as he winked at her, smug smirk on his face.
"Miss Granger: five points from Gryffindor for the mess you made." Said Snape, standing at his desk with his arms folded in front of him. "Class dismissed."
As the rest of the class filed out of the dungeons, mumbling about Snape's unfairness, Draco walked over to Hermione, who was trying to scrub the black lumps out of her hair whilst avoiding the burns on her hands.
"See ya at patrol, Mudblood." He whispered, sneering as he loomed over her. Hermione tried to repress a shiver as he walked away, dreading the night to come.
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She was running late. Again. Hermione hurried down the stairs to the Entrance Hall, tucking her wand into her pocket and poking her hair back into her tangled ponytail. She had decided that after that morning's debacle she was going to ignore him, or at the very least try not to react to today's snipes. She glanced around the Hall, hoping that he would be late too, but-
"Granger. You're late. Again." She spied him leaning against the huge oak doors, smirking. "I suppose it's not unusual for someone like you-" He sneered. "A filthy Mudblood."
Hermione shot him a glare. Then she rolled her eyes. "Really, Malfoy - you might want to come up with new insults," she said, yawning for effect. "These ones are getting old."
His eyes hardened. "Be careful what you wish for, Mudblood."
"Shove off, Malfoy. Just because you're feeling inadequate because I'm disinclined to react to your ridiculously immature insults. Let's just get this over with."
They set off, walking on either end of the staircase, not looking at each other. Hermione was annoyed: how dare he insult her like that, what had she ever done to him? Where did he get off, thinking he was all high and mighty because he was a stinking Pureblood?
Draco, on the other hand, was contemplating. The more he thought about it, the more he came to realise that Mudblood was really the only decent insult he had. There wasn't anything else he could insult her on; he was second only to her on every test in every class, and her wand work was only a fraction better than his. She was even better than him at Potions, his best subject. He couldn't even comment on her abysmal performance in the sports arena, seeing as she didn't play sports. Inadequate indeed. Granger had been quite correct in her analysis, and it angered him immensely. If anything, she had more ammunition on him. He was always second to her, he was even always second to bloody Potter as well in fucking Quidditch. A small growl of frustration bubbled up in his throat.
Always second. Second place is the first loser.
Loser.
Failure.
"Fuck off!" The words flew from his lips before he realised what was happening.
Hermione just stared at him, taken aback. Heat stirred an angry flush in her cheeks. "I- what?!"
They weren't necessarily meant for her, but after her reaction he took it and went with it. "Just don't speak! Leave me the fuck alone you stupid Mudblood bint!"
She glared at him, her eyes sparking with annoyance. "I never said anything, Malfoy. Keep a lid on it."
"Just shut up!"
They walked in seething silence for the rest of the patrol.