A Hundred Storms

Chapter 12: Go Your Own Way

Tell me why
Everything turned around
Packing up
Shacking up's all you wanna do
If I could
Baby I'd give you my world
Open up
Everything's waiting for you
-Go Your Own Way, by Fleetwood Mac

Draco was in his room, pacing like an agitated lion trapped in a cage. Honestly, what was Granger thinking? Entertaining the slightest notion that walking down the Weasley path once again was a good idea was a serious error in judgement on her part.

The thought aggravated Draco a great deal. He had been there; the Disillusionment Charm on his cloak hid him from prying eyes. He hadn't meant to spy, not really. He was at the pub enjoying a firewhisky (or several) when she was ushered to the booth beside the one he occupied (albeit rather hard to see) and proceeded to make smoochy faces at the two people he detested almost more than Voldemort himself.

The sun had long since set outside, and Hermione had been absent from dinner. Gallivanting about with Potter and Weasley, no doubt, reminiscing about the good old days, Draco thought bitterly. Nothing good could come from it, and Draco was sure that by the end of the day the two miscreants would have convinced her into hopping on the next train home. And after all the trouble he went through to keep her in school! How dare she turn away from his gift as though it were nothing.

Draco stopped his pacing suddenly and caught sight of himself in the mirror above the dresser. Outwardly he looked collected, even impassive. He narrowed his eyes critically at his reflection and scowled. He knew he was acting ridiculous, but damn if this whole business was getting too out of hand.

He was just debating whether a few broom laps around the Quidditch pitch would help clear his head when three solid raps sounded at his bedroom door. Draco stiffened. He knew who it was as surely as he knew his own name.

"You have some explaining to do," Hermione said without preamble when he opened the door. Draco looked over her shoulder into the common room and saw Neville staring with bewilderment at her retreating form as she marched into Draco's room.. Draco took the opportunity to smirk widely at him before slamming the door closed.

Hermione had marched into the center of the room and stood there glowering at him with her arms crossed over her chest. Draco was vaguely aware that Hermione practically hummed with power, and a part of him hoped that her current agitated state meant that she had not spent the better part of the day snogging.

Draco turned from the closed door and took the sight in. Hermione has always been slim, average height, big hair and big brown eyes. She was still slim, toeing the line at overly so, and her hair was still as unruly as ever, but it was a part of her and a representation of the vivacious personality he had grudgingly grown to respect. After discovering the little witch had lied through her (literally) clenched teeth under Crucio, Draco wondered if that was why her hair was so big – she needed a place to hide all that extra Gryffindor heroism her frame was too small to carry.

At that thought Draco slammed on his mental brakes and gave himself an internal slap. His expression must have altered somewhat because Hermione tensed slightly and appeared to subconsciously go on the defensive. Draco was sorry to invoke the reaction but couldn't help playing into it.

"Well, Granger?" he asked as though he was bored with the interview already.

"I know what you did," she said in a tone that suggested he had drowned a litter of puppies rather than paid a school tuition. Granted, he wasn't sure which Hermione would have rather saved, her pride or the puppies.

"And what is that?" Draco couldn't help himself. He wanted to hear her say it out loud.

"You...you.." Hermione trailed off, she couldn't even bring words to the offense.

"Don't hurt yourself, Granger," Draco said cheerfully. He was enjoying himself immensely.

Hermione flushed angrily. "It had to be you," she said. "No one else knew about my parents. I only told Harry and Ron today, and there wouldn't have been time for Harry to set up any sort of account on my behalf. What game are you playing, Malfoy? Why did you do it? When did you do it?"

"And what, pray tell, are you talking about?" Draco asked, keeping his face blank.

"You know what I'm talking about!" Hermione felt herself quickly losing control of her temper. "I went to see McGonagall after dinner, and do you know what she said to me? That a benefactor had set up a scholarship specifically for Muggle-borns who played an active part in the war who were at least seventeen! Malfoy! Do you take me for some sort of idiot? Have you been gloating over this since I, for some unknown reason, poured my entire sob story onto you? Please enlighten me because I am completely baffled at your motive."

Draco's face had lost its smirk by the time she finished her tirade. He knew she would be upset; a part of him wanted her to be upset and reveled in once more being the cause. Being in control.

"I thought," he said flatly, "that you wanted to stay at Hogwarts."

"I do!" Hermione threw up her hands and began pacing in the same fashion he had been only minutes before. "More than anything, but honestly, what are you playing at? You don't deny it."

"What good would that do?" he asked honestly. "Apparently McGonagall cannot be trusted to keep her mouth shut."

"Oh, don't act like this is her fault!" Hermione said in exasperation.

"Fault?" Draco was becoming angry. Good. That's what he needed right now and Draco forced his lips into a sneer "Again, Granger, I was under the impression you wanted to stay at Hogwarts. Why are you trying to strike at the hand that feeds you?"

"Because I don't want your bloody hand feeding me!" she cried.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?" he asked.

Hermione gave up pacing and sunk heavily onto the bed. "I don't want to owe you anything. I don't want to owe anyone anything. This is my fight."

He hadn't expected that. "We're not at war anymore," Draco said in a tone more gentler than Hermione had ever heard him use. "Don't you think you deserve some special treatment, having done what you did?"

"That's the sort of talk that makes me angry," she said, now fixing her glare at her hands in her lap. "I don't deserve anything. It was a war, like you said. We all made sacrifices, including you."

"Alright then," Draco took a tentative seat about a foot away from her on the bed. "Think of it as a thank you. I am not much for fruit baskets, but I think you deserve something for keeping me out of Azkaban."

"I can't be bought, you know," Hermione said, still fixated on her hands.

"If I thought you could, I wouldn't respect you half as much," Draco replied with a little more honesty than he had intended.

That caused Hermione to look up. "What?"

"Don't fish," Draco said irritably. "I meant what I said the other day, and so did you. Us versus them, remember? You earned your right to be at Hogwarts, you earned your place in the wizarding world. Your parentage might be...unfortunate, and the whole situation they placed you in doesn't raise Muggles in general in my esteem. In any case you are not a Muggle, but you are, for some inexplicable reason, extraordinary."

Something changed in the air. Hermione felt it. Draco stiffened as he felt it too. There was energy in the room unlike anything Hermione had ever experienced. She stared at him, caught between being furious at the latest dig against her birth and mildly flattered at the incredibly roundabout compliment he paid her.

"Malfoy," Hermione said softly.

"Yes?"

"Is your room warded?"

Draco's eyebrows shot clear into his hairline before Hermione grabbed him by his collar and yanked him down on the floor, narrowly escaping a missile-like object that dive-bombed the place where they were sitting.

"You don't ward your room?" Hermione hissed at him incredulously.

"I really didn't think it was necessary, no one is usually trying to kill me!" he snapped back through gritted teeth. "Is that your poltergeist friend?"

"Maliceptor," Hermione corrected automatically. "And yes, I believe it is."

The form was roughly the size of a toddler and bouncing around the room like Peeves is wont to do in his most rambunctious mood. So far the destruction seemed to be minimal, but Hermione was shocked at being attacked in such a confined place.

"So, Granger," Draco said conversationally as they ducked for cover under the large four-poster. "What are we to do about our visitor?"

"I had an idea, but I'm not prepared. I'm going to have to improvise. How heavy is that mirror of yours over the dresser?"

"Heavy," Draco confirmed. "Why?"

"If we can Stun the thing, we should be able to get out safely. After it leaves you need to ward your damn room and I need to ward the common room. Stupid, stupid, I should have thought about that already. All the other rooms will need to be warded too and-"

"Shut it, Granger," Draco put his hand over her mouth. He thought for an instant how warm it was. "The mirror? Alright."

"Wait!" Hermione cried out but he was already rolling out from under the bed, staying low to the ground. He dodged the flying bomb and made a dash for the mirror. He yanked the mirror off the wall with visible effort and when the maliceptor rebounded Draco threw the mirror up, covering the upper half of his body. Hermione watched in sick fascination as the maliceptor collided with the smooth surface of the mirror and burst into a million tiny, ghostly particles.

Hermione was frozen where she lay under the bed. Once Draco affirmed that the immediate danger had passed he discarded the heavy mirror and maneuvered over to Hermione. In one strong movement he grabbed her not-too-gently by the arm and brought her out from under the bed and onto her feet.

"Well," he said, brushing the vanishing pieces of poltergeist from his shirt. "I'm going to assume that your ghostly adversary cannot be defeated by a blow from a mirror?"

"No," Hermione said somewhat dumbly. "Malfoy, that was incredible. And brave. That thing could have seriously hurt you."

"No, no, no," Draco shook his head vehemently. "I don't do brave. I do self-preservation. Eventually that thing would have lifted the bed up and crushed me under it. No way did I survive the war only to suffer death by flying furniture."

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. "Alright then, since that is settled, we really need to ward this place. Honestly, Malfoy, why wouldn't you take such a simple precaution?"

"Hadn't occurred to me," he said simply. "As I said, Granger, I'm unaccustomed to individuals trying to kill me."

"Point taken," Hermione said, assessing the damage in the room. All in all it wasn't bad. She walked over to the door and began the warding spells she used on her own room.

"I can do that myself, you know," Draco said from behind her.

"I'm sure you can," Hermione replied. "But I'm willing to wager mine are better." She was surprised when he didn't argue.

Hermione finished the wards and turned around to see Draco finishing the cleanup. She marveled for the millionth time how easy magic made life. After it complicated things, of course.

"Well, this isn't how I wanted to spend my Saturday night," Hermione grumbled and resumed her place at the foot of the bed.

"I will say, Granger, you keep things interesting," Draco said sardonically. He did not join her on the bed, however; he seemed to have picked a somewhat conspicuous spot about as far from the bed and attempted to appear nonchalant.

Hermione shot him a strange look and shrugged. "I apologize for the problem. I meant to start a potion this evening to help put a stop to it."

"What sort of potion?" Draco asked, still standing as far as was possible.

Hermione stood up. "I really do need to get started on it. I'm going to go down to the potions lab and begin. It's so nice to have the freedom to do what I please. I would have hated to take up residence in the girls' lavatory again to brew this potion."

"What?" Draco asked, not sure he heard her correctly.

Hermione grinned at him, seeming to have forgotten her anger from earlier for the time being. "If you're not too tired, I can tell you the story of how we brewed Polyjuice Potion in order to trick you into confessing to be the heir of Slytherin."

"What?" Draco asked again, stuck somewhat dumb.

"Come on, I promise it's a great tale."

Wordlessly Draco followed the Gryffindor out of his newly warded room, secretly pleased he had an excuse to extend the night with her.