Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
Hermione was a creature of habit. The monotone of a routine left no room for her to wallow in the heavy tension that descended upon Hogwarts. The students were on edge, the professors even more so, and on top of that she still roomed with one Draco Malfoy.
Though, to be fair, roomed with was a bit of a stretch. They occupied the same space, though never at the same time it seemed. He was just as keen to avoid her as she was him. Not that it was difficult. Their class schedules were completely different. They shared two classes, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions.
It would be a lie to say she wasn't curious about his other classes. He was for all intents and purposes second in the class. In theory, their schedules should have been the same. So when she caught sight of what appeared to be a Charm's book left on their kitchen counter one evening, she easily went to examine it. The title was unfamiliar, and a few flips through the pages and she found she didn't recognize any of the spells being taught. After a few targeted questions to Lavender, she had her answer. He'd tested out from classes. At least, that was what she understood from the lengthy explanation. A few choice Slytherins and Ravenclaws had somehow taken summer lessons. Upon returning to Hogwarts, Dumbledore had been forced to acknowledge that the curriculum as it stood now would simply be repetitive for them to complete. No one could tell her anything else.
She hated to admit it, but it made her green with envy that she wasn't in the highest classes available. Though, if anything, the only reason those classes existed was because students like Malfoy could afford and had access to a plethora of possible private tutors for summer lessons. That was the only reason. It had to be.
It was hard to convince herself of it. Her thoughts were like a plague that would never lift, infecting her mind, especially at night when she didn't have Ron or Harry to distract her. She blinked up at her ceiling before her eyes drifted to her door. Nearly every night that she hadn't been able to slip soundlessly into her dreams, she'd open her eyes to light from the Common Room seeping through the cracks of the door.
She nibbled her lip before rising from her bed. A cup of tea might help her get to sleep, if not, she had muggle and wizarding ways of forcing sleep to take her in a cabinet in the kitchen.
She twisted her hair up into a bun and quietly left her room. Her footsteps were soft as she made her way toward their Common Room. Just as she suspected, Malfoy was awake, legs stretched out and resting at the lone coffee table in front of the couch. The same Charm's book was on the table with a book mark near the half way mark of the text.
She craned her head to catch sight of the title of the book currently in his hands when his voice rang out.
"Did I disturb you?"
She stopped, waiting for his head to turn, but it never did. She'd been quiet. How had he heard her?
"No." She finally said moving now with no hesitation. "I couldn't sleep either."
He kept his face trained to his book. She frowned and stepped to the kitchen. A wave of her wand brought the kettle on the stove to life, and soon she had returned with her cup in hand to the room.
Her eyes drifted to the title. The First Folio.
"Shakespeare." She blinked then, unsure why she'd voiced her thought aloud.
"Thank you for confirming that you can, in fact, read Granger." He snorted flipping the page of the book.
"Why are you…"
"Contrary to popular belief, but most of us aren't uneducated pathetic excuses for wizards like the company you keep."
She bristled. "You consider Muggle literature educational?"
He looked up from his page before marking it and shutting the book loudly. A malicious grin spread across his face. "Well that would depend on if I thought Shakespeare was a muggle."
She folded her arms. "He was a Muggle. Records show that."
The grin intensified.
"I don't know much about Muggles Granger, but I'm sure that their educational system doesn't lead great minds to take up residence in the local pub." He paused, his grin melting off his face. When he met her gaze, he was serious. "That was what the muggle named Shakespeare did, isn't it? Drank himself into the grave from what I understand."
She blinked, fighting hard to ignore how impressed she was with his knowledge. Theories to the identity of Shakespeare were not exactly commonly known.
He smiled slightly as he noticed her eyes fill with recognition. "Even you must admit that Shakespeare was probably a nom de plume."
"He still could have been a muggle."
"That's not what my mother believed. She'd read them to me when I was younger, on the nights when my father wasn't home." He said, his gaze grew unfocused. She was mesmerized at the transformation. It was easier to see how intelligent Malfoy actually was when he wasn't being a git.
"Why did she read them?"
He blinked before a scowl settled on his lips. "None of your business"
The git had returned. "I was just asking a question." She muttered.
"You ask too many." He snapped grabbing his books and stalking toward his room.
"You should be sleeping and not disturbing other people." He called over his shoulder before shutting his door behind him.
She sighed, clutching her teacup tighter. "So should you." She murmured.
The prat had ruined her night and her day as well. After she'd gone to her room, she'd stayed awake contemplating their conversation before fitfully falling asleep, only to wake up nearly late for Arithmancy. She hated him. Him and his surprising knowledge.
She bitterly continued on to DADA, waiting for Snape to return their exams. When he did, she almost wished he hadn't.
She blinked at the page. It was impossible. Surely there was a mistake in the grading. She'd gotten the second highest grade in DADA. Not just that, she'd been tied with a Ravenclaw for second. She quickly scanned through the pages, checking and rechecking questions to responses.
Across the room, Snape had handed Malfoy his paper with a low congratulations before the blond snatched his papers and promptly left the room.
She felt her gut tighten. No. No. He couldn't have.
Ron leaned over her arm and his eyes widened as he glanced at the page. "There's been a bloody mistake." he stammered. "Malfoy." She started. "No. He must have cheated." He interrupted her, clearly at a loss for how to continue that statement.
She shook her head. "How? Snape was watching."
"He may have bloody well let him. I mean fuck Hermione; Malfoy can't have scored higher than you."
"He studied Ron." He must have. She glanced at the class list with the top grades floating at the front of the room. He'd beat her by not one, not two, but three points. Ron stammered eyes still flitting across her page and then to her face.
"He actually studies quite a bit now." she murmured. Ron's mouth dropped. "I mean he's up at all hours in the night, and when he is he just sits in our Common Room with the light on and a book in his hand." The last part came out a grumble. She suddenly felt anger bubble at the back of her throat.
Who was he to come in and challenge her for first? To be civil to her when he had teased her for years, called her Mudblood….
He hasn't said the word Mudblood in 2 years.
Her thoughts were ignored in favor of emotion. She clenched her fists, trembling from anger. Whether she was upset from the night before or for the test, she couldn't say. The rude pureblood piece of rubbish. How dare he. On both accounts. How dare he. She snatched her paper from Ron and marched toward the Heads' Dormitories.
He was sitting on one of the couches, head leaned back, massaging his temples. When the door slammed behind her, he immediately bolted up with a slew of curses flowing from his mouth.
"What the fuck Granger." he exclaimed. What the fuck indeed.
"Where do you get off?" She said, voice louder than intended.
He glanced down at her. Face like stone. His voice though, sent chills down her spin. "I know this may be a difficult concept for you to grasp, with the peasant upbringing that you've had, but a polite member of society doesn't hurl accusations at a man without first telling him what he is accused of." He was cool, voice even, like her outburst hadn't fazed him in the slightest.
"Accusing you of." She hissed and felt a warmth of satisfaction when he flinched. Their faces were mere inches apart now. "You know why." she enunciated, while poking her finger into his chest with each syllable. He grabbed her hand and twisted her arm behind her. "Do not touch me." This time though, there was a certain edge in his voice. A threat.
She pulled her arm out of his grasp, surprised he'd allowed her to do so. "Here." She shoved her paper in his face. He glanced down at the page, and raised a brow. "Your DADA test." he said flatly. "HOW DID YOU SCORE HIGHER THAN ME?!"
He closed his eyes for a moment and took in a breath. "You're angry because I scored higher on a fucking test."
Was she? It was hard to say. The exam. The night before. The weeks of near dead silence and nights of restless sleep. She felt her anger deflate. "Yes." It came out meeker than she intended. "How did you do it?" she grumbled, nearly embarrassed at her outburst, but unwilling to back down.
He rubbed his temples. "I don't owe you any explanations, and since it seems I'm not going to be able to nurse this sodding headache in peace, I'm leaving." He grabbed his jumper that had been slung over the couch beside him.
"Where are you going?" She darted after him.
"To the Slytherin House. Gods knows Pansy probably has enough pain potions to feed the entire Hogwarts student body." he snapped before slamming the door behind him.
She stood alone in their Common Room before sinking to her feet. What in the world had just happened?
Scrambling back to the couch she plopped down in the exact spot he'd been sitting before she'd stormed in. He'd be back eventually, and she'd be damned if they didn't finish what they'd started. Damn him and his ability to get under her skin. She leaned her head back and took in a breath. Her nose caught his scent that still lingered. Apples and Pine. A shiver ran down her back as she crossed her arms. Her mouth went dry as she savored the scent. It was oddly comforting, easing the tension in her muscles. Damn him again for always smelling so good. She shook her head and took to breathing from her mouth. No distractions. She had to be focused for when he came back.