Chapter 1. Mudblood
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were coming back from Hagrid's house. They went to say their greetings, as they did every beginning of the semester, and also to ask him whether they should be concerned about Dobby's warning.
"Don't pay too much attention, boy," Hagrid said. He ruffled Harry's hair. "Whoever's after you will need to go through a whole army of wizards just to be able to face ya."
Harry had been driving Hermione crazy all summer. First, he replied not once to the hundreds of letters she and Ron wrote to Harry, which made her almost hysteric with worry. She was even willing to go to the Dudleys' residence herself.
Then suddenly the two birdbrains disappeared at the train station. Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and she looked everywhere until the last boarding call. Hermione had no choice but to believe that the boys ditched her for whatever reason and got on the train first. She was unable to sit down the entire ride.
She was ready to strangle them when they finally returned to the Gryffindor common room.
"Where have you been? You two look awful! What were you thinking?"
"It's a hell of a story, Hermione," Ron laughed. The laugh died into a nervous 'haha' after he finally deciphered Hermione's stern look. Ron was slow at everything. From reading textbooks to reading the room.
"Dobby blocked the platform entrance when I tried to go in," Harry explained. "He's been hiding your letters, too. He says that I shouldn't go back to Hogwarts because it's dangerous."
"Well, it seems to me that whoever this Dobby person is more dangerous to you than some unknown force in the safest school in London," she scoffed.
"He's an elf," said Ron.
"Yes, thank you for your remarkable correction," she said. "You should tell someone about this, Harry. There must be a reason an elf went out of his way to prevent you from coming back to school."
"Exactly. I'll go to Hagrid's tomorrow," said Harry.
"I'll go with you," Ron chimed in. "I missed Hagrid."
"I guess we're all going then," sighed Hermione. "Who knows what will happen if I leave you two alone."
After a cup of warm, bland tea, they were heading back to their common room when they met Malfoy.
"Well, well, if it isn't the two embarrassments of Hogwarts," sang Malfoy. "I heard you were even on Muggle news."
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said sternly. "Let's just pass each other quietly for once."
"My father said you should be expelled. Rather fact, your magic should be stripped out of you."
"It's impossible to take away someone's magic," Hermione said.
"Why? Are you scared that if it were, you'd be first on the list? You filthy mudblood. You don't deserve to be in Hogwarts."
"Why do you even bother, Malfoy? Leave us alone," said Ron.
"Stupid blood-traitor. You shouldn't be here. You should have died when the troll invaded the school in our first year," he said. "Or maybe you're too busy handling the troll always next to you."
Hermione breathed in. As much as she could. Then breathed out until her lungs were practically touching her diaphragm. Yet, she decided she finally had it. First it was Harry, which she could handle with love, but with Malfoy, her patience had run out.
"Especially you, Potter. You only cause trouble to those around you, you selfish son of a-"
Hermione did not remember what happened next. All she saw was Harry and Ron, jaws wide open in awe, and a boy with silver blond hair being escorted by a large boy in a Slytherin robe.
When the Slytherin gang was out of sight, Ron broke the silence.
"Bloody hell, Hermione."
"He got what he deserved," said Harry cooly, unbothered by whatever Hermione had done.
Hermione didn't ask specifically what happened because a. Ron and Harry were still angry after their encounter with Malfoy and b. She herself was afraid of what she might have done.
"We should go inside now," she said, unfolding her sleeves (when did she even roll them up?). "We have Potions class tomorrow and I haven't studied yet."
"What do you mean 'haven't studied yet'?" said Ron. "We're still only on the first day of school."
"Yes, and I've only covered the first half of our textbook," said Hermione.
"So unnecessary," Ron said, shaking his head. "You'll kill yourself out of stress."
"And you'll get yourself expelled if you don't copy off of me," she smiled. All three of them knew that the two boys would have been expelled in their second year if it weren't for her.
"I still don't understand how you could put expulsion over death on your priority list," Ron shook his head.
"Girls, stop arguing. We all need Hermione to succeed so that we can stay in school," said Harry as he started walking toward the nearest building entrance.
"Girls? Who are you referring to? There is no 'girl' with us!" Ron shouted.
Hermione slapped Ron's back so hard that it echoed outside the courtyard. She pretended she didn't notice the bombarda of her hand and ran towards Harry.
Hermione loved the Gryffindor common room. The warm lights, the fireplace, soft chairs, portraits of inspirational wizards, and the buzzing sound of other fellow Gryffindors talking about Quidditch and trash about Slytherins. She plopped herself onto a deep red, velvet sofa and let out a sigh.
"I still can't believe you did that, Hermione," said Ron. "I didn't know you had it in you."
"Oh, well, it was nothing," Hermione shrugged.
"Nothing my ass," Ron chuckled. "You're the craziest witch I know."
"That's because you don't know any witches besides your mom and Ginny."
"Whatever. I'm going to my room," he said. "See you at dinner."
Hermione decided to save Potions until after dinner because it was her favorite subject. She instead took out a library book that she borrowed on the first day: A General Guide to Magical Species. The book was written in alphabetical order. As she flipped through the pages, she noticed Boggart in B. Professor Lupin had shown them during class to teach them "Riddikulus!" The shape-shifting creature turned into the worst fear of the person in front of them. The wizard had to change his or her fear into something funny to defend himself from the boggart. She remembered hers being Professor McGonagall failing all of her exams. The thought of it gave her chills.
She browsed through the rest of the book, which would have been the equivalent of an average student's intensive reading, and went to her room to pick up her Charms textbook. After finishing the book in 30 minutes, Harry called for her and the three friends went to the Great Hall for dinner.
Professor McGonagall was waiting for them at the end of the hallway.
"Miss Granger, follow me please," she said.
Hermione stopped in her steps. She was hardly breathing. Her mind was calculating all possible mistakes and their outcomes. Did she break Malfoy's nose again? Did she say a curse word that wizards did not know? Did she blurt out Harry's secret that someone was after him?
"It's okay," whispered Ron. "She'll probably give you a biscuit for beating the shit out of Malfoy."
Great. So that's what she did.
Hermione entered her dearest Professor's office, carefully closing the door behind her.
She turned around only to see Malfoy standing in front of Professor McGonagall's desk. He was not in proper uniform, unlike from what she had remembered before she blacked out. He was wearing his dress shirt, which was covered with splotches of brown and green, and uniform trousers, which were also covered in dirt.
'So I beat him to the ground,' Hermione deducted.
She slowly walked up to the left side of the desk and tried not to look at Malfoy's face. However, her curiosity got the best of her. She looked to her right and saw Malfoy's head hung low. He was wearing a face mask that covered his entire face but his silver eyes.
Draco Malfoy. He was practically a prince in the wizarding world. If it weren't for his evil nature Hermione thought that Draco had every right to have that title. His family name, prestige, wealth, and even looks. When she met Malfoy's father last year she instantly saw the undeniable resemblance, and why Malfoy aspired to be like his father so much. If the son Malfoy looked like a obnoxious, stubborn, proud, cunning devil, father Malfoy looked like Lucifer himself.
"It has come to my understanding that there has been a heated encounter between the two of you," McGonagall said, looking down on her papers.
"Yes ma'am," said Hermione. Only she answered.
"Mr. Malfoy, you called Miss Granger a 'filthy mudblood who doesn't deserve to be in Hogwarts,' is my witness' testimony correct?"
"Yes ma'am," Malfoy said, surprisingly politely.
"And you, Miss Granger, turned Malfoy's face into a mandrake, correct?"
Hermione bit her tongue and imagined her family dying which was the saddest thing she could think of to hold in her laughter. Relatively weaker than what she could have done, Hermione thought to herself. "Yes ma'am," she said.
"I understand there were more inappropriate verbal interactions between you and Mr. Potter and Weasly?" McGonagall asked Malfoy.
"Yes ma'am," he answered, still not looking up.
"This is not the first time you and your classmates have had an argument, Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger," said McGonagall as she rose from her chair. "But this is my last straw. I expect both of you to keep your distance from each other unless you have something civil to say."
"Yes ma'am," they both answered. Malfoy's response was barely audible.
"As for today's incident, your punishment will be to clean the main classrooms your peers take lectures in for a month."
A muggle could find their way into Diagon Alley blindfolded and still would have a higher chance than Hermione being in the same room as Malfoy for thirty days.
"But Professor, students in their fourth year talk lectures from at least 5 different classrooms," said Hermione, trying not to sound like whining.
"Yes, I am aware. It will require a lot of teamwork," said McGonagall calmly.
"Professor McGonagall, this will only make matters worse - you said so yourself that the best option was to stay away from each other," Hermione refuted.
"That was when I was referring to when you are with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. You, Miss Granger, on the other hand, I believe will be more sensible," McGonagall said as she fixed her glasses. "The same applies to you, too, Mr. Malfoy."
Malfoy kept his head low and stayed silent.
"But-"
"I will cast a spell on each classroom at 9 p.m. sharp. Only you two, together, will be able to open them. Once you enter a classroom, the room will be locked until the classroom is cleaned. When you have finished, the room will be unlocked and you are free to exit. The room will stay locked until you have entered it, cleaned it, and left it together. No other spell will be able to unlock it."
"What if we don't clean any of the classrooms?" asked Hermione.
"No one will be able to enter the classrooms. Your peers will not be able to have class and you will have to take extra liability. We will walk around the castle tonight and I will assign the classrooms you will need to clean. You are not allowed to use any magic. Am I clear?"
Hermione nodded her head. Malfoy remained still.
"Alright then, follow me," said McGonagall.
Chapter 2. Malfoy
Bullshit.
It was hard enough to be turned into a mandrake and scream like Neville Longbottom in front of the whole school. Returning back to normal was just as embarrassing because the screaming effect occurred every time he opened his bloody mouth.
Fuck Potter. And all of his friends.
But that fucking whore. It took every fiber in him from lashing out at her in front of Professor McGonagall. He was, like the professor said, sensible. He knew better than to be a whiny brat in front of a Professor. Talking back to an authoritative figure had no class and only showed how pathetic the working class was. This was all the more reason that there should be a segregation between purebloods and the others. Being in the same realm is a disgrace and violation of wizards' rights.
That being said, being in the same room with that filthy mudblood attention whore would be a disgrace to his family name and a violation of his basic wizard rights. His father would be furious and have McGonagall fired immediately.
"You may begin now," said McGonagall, and closed the door. The door closed with a lock sound.
He stood still, wondering if killing his partner would open the door.
The rag sighed. A waste of air. She only caused harm to the environment.
"Well, we better get to work then," she said. She rolled up her sleeves and started sweeping the right side of the classroom. "You can do the left."
Draco stood still. The audacity of a street rat to order around one of the highest wizarding family's eldest son. If it weren't for the face mask he would have spat at her face.
Miss fucking I-have-two-boyfriends gave Draco a look. He understood it to be a "why are you still standing" look, but he could not be sure because every facial expression of hers just spoke "ugly" in capital letters.
"Why are you still standing?" she asked in an annoyed tone.
"I was looking at you and thinking how well this suits you," he said.
"What suits me?"
"This. Cleaning. Doing manual labor. This is what you deserve," he said sincerely.
"Unfortunately, you are better off in this world as a mandrake. How pitiful it must be to be more harmful than useful one's entire life," she said, talking in baby tone.
"You fucking cockroach. You deserve to live in a zoo."
"Maybe if you stop trying to make creative insults and start cooperating, this hell of a time would end sooner."
"I'm not going to do anything," he said. He put four chairs together and lay down. "I don't do elves' work."
She stopped sweeping. She took a deep breath. Another waste of good, innocent air.
"You know what? Maybe I'm not sensible. If you're not going to do anything, neither am I," she proclaimed, and plumped onto a chair. It was a miracle that the chair didn't collapse.
One hour. Two hours. Three hours. It was already past midnight and they had done absolutely nothing. No books. No wands. Nothing. Draco was used to staying up late - he had not been able to sleep ever since he could remember. No matter how tired he was, as soon as he lies down to sleep his sympathetic nervous system gets triggered and he stares into his ceiling, wide eyed, until the sun starts rising and the sky becomes the color of soft orange. Three hours of doing nothing did not bother him.
However, he amused himself watching the brain freak lose her shit not being able to study and waste her time because of her ego. She attempted sleep, wrote everything she knew on the chalkboard, polished her shoe, closed her eyes and memorized probably every existing spell, and now she was shaking her leg and biting her right index finger. If only she gave in and worked like she dog she was, none of this would have happened.
After another thirty minutes, she finally spoke.
"Malfoy," she muttered.
"I can't hear you," said Malfoy, upset that his mask was covering his sly grin.
"Malfoy, we need to go to bed," she said.
"I didn't stop you from cleaning. You're the one that stalled time."
"Why don't we make a deal, huh?"
Pathetic.
"I don't need to make a deal with you, peasant. You do your job and the spell is broken."
"We clean the classrooms together, you stop calling me a mudblood, and I let you in on a ministry level project that could answer your heart's deepest desire."
Draco scoffed. "Nonsense."
"The Ministry of Magic is opening a contest for all wizards to create a new potion. The winners will be granted one chance of their heart's desire. The wish must be granted."
"I don't need your stupid help, I can enter the contest on my own."
"The participants must be in groups of two," she said.
"Then I'll do it with someone in my level, mudblood," he spat.
"And who would you work with, the two cube-shaped gargoyles? Parkinson? Zabini? You're the second-smartest person in our class. There's only one person in this school who is in your level."
"And that person is you, mudblood? You might be the top in your class but you're so fucking dumb to think that I would work with you. I don't need someone to grant me my heart's desire because my life is already desirable. You can enter the contest with your pussy boyfriends. They could use some help."
"What if it's to beat Harry? Aren't you tired of always losing?"
Draco clenched his jaw. Did she mean losing to Potter in Quidditch? Or was she talking about Potter's popularity? Either way it pressed his button and there was no return.
"Listen you filthy, unworthy, selfish brat. You may think you're so noble and shit for defeating life-threatening obstacles year after year, but that doesn't give you any authority or recognition. Winning the House Cup? Sure, everyone in your house loves your contribution that makes Griffindor jump to first place. But do you know what people are calling you behind your backs? They hate you three more than I do. They think you're all stuck in your own precious heads making up fairy tale adventures to make your sorry selves look like a god. You may think you're holding this school together, but a vast majority of this school thinks you three are fucking fake. They call you The Grueling Trio."
Granger tried to seem unbothered but her eyes were giving her away. It was an instant, but Draco knew that his words hurt her. He grinned in triumph.
"And you? Do you think you have the authority to call us fake? Look around you. I bet you can't name three people who are your true friends. You'll live a pathetic, lonely life until you die."
The comeback was so lame he almost felt sorry.
"I don't need friends, I keep acquaintances. Everyone in the wizarding world knows better to respect people with royal names. The only ones who are stupid enough to talk back are you three idiots."
"Normally I would feel sorry for you because you live in an illusion that people respect you. You're in the wrong, Malfoy. Wake up."
"I'm wasting my time," said Draco, annoyed that he spent a conversation too long with a human worm. "You better start cleaning or the whole class is going to hate on you."
"I'm not cleaning if you're not cleaning," she insisted.
Draco rolled his eyes. He took three long steps and stood eye to eye with Granger. He took his mask off and showed her the scars and stitches on his pale skin caused by returning his face. She gasped.
"You should grateful that I chose not to strangle you after what you've done," he scowled. "You deserve this punishment. I don't."
That shut her up. The filthy rat turned toward the broom and swept the floors again. This time she finished the left side. The doors opened, and they finally parted ways at dawn.