Hermione Granger and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by terra_katta [rated PG-13]
Exchange Story for operatingroom
Title: Hermione Granger and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
Author: terra_katta
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Absolutely none.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine, and that depresses me sometimes. Also don’t own the book I based the title on.
Author Notes/Beta Credits: This is to take place around the beginning of chapter twenty-one in Order of the Phoenix, mainly around pages 442 to 451 (American edition). I hope it fits in well with canon, as requested. The song lines (also as requested) are taken from the song “Liar (It Takes One to Know One)” by Taking Back Sunday! :)
One million thanks go out to ldymusyc for being an awesome, awesome beta. You are also very HEWT. ♥
Do hope you enjoy, operatingroom!
Summary: Hermione Granger has a very, very bad day.
Hermione Granger and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
She hadn’t meant to do it. She really hadn’t meant to do it.
But by the name of that was holy and literary, Draco Malfoy wouldn’t listen.
She warned him more than once. In fact, Hermione warned him five times. But when it came to warnings, Malfoys never heeded them. A rather thick lot indeed. But who could blame her? This wasn’t a normal day. In fact, this was probably the worst day ever in her days of being at Hogwarts. It seemed like everything in the world that could possibly go wrong had and would continue to.
The memory of the past day was still fresh in her mind, which wasn’t helping matters much. They had been studying thestrals in Care of Magical Creatures-a highly interesting lesson, she had thought-but then that hag Umbridge had to ruin it completely. She had spent the rest of the day seething, especially because of Malfoy not helping Hagrid’s situation and because of his little quip to Ron at the end of the lesson. Honestly, he was so infuriating!
But that was only the start.
Hermione awoke the following morning, feeling slightly better now that she had slept away most of her anger, though not completely over it. Today would be a rather calm day at least, as the only thing of importance she had to do was her prefect patrols with Malfoy. They could have a good, long talk about his behavior, something she had been waiting to do since the lesson ended, but never got the chance to.
Besides, it was a pretty day! The sun was shining brightly and it was quite mild for this time of year. This had to be a good sign, right? Hermione had found through personal research that when the weather was good, her day would be good. She could always trust her research.
After getting herself ready for class, she strolled over to her desk in her dormitory and made to grab her homework. Much to her surprise, it wasn’t anywhere at all. Probably misplaced it, she told herself, and looked around for it. Five minutes later, it was nowhere to be found, and Hermione found herself highly frantic and highly irritated.
She turned to Parvati (who had just walked in) hopefully, wondering if maybe she knew. “Parvati, have you seen my homework? I left it right here.”
Almost instantly, her housemate looked guilty. “That was your homework? I thought it was rubbish.”
Perhaps she had heard her incorrectly. She prayed that she had. Hermione spoke slowly and evenly, trying to hide the anger building up. “Okay, then. What did you do with it?”
“Put it in the rubbish bin,” Parvati replied, so quickly that Hermione barely understood her. “Well, Lavender wants to see me. Don’t want to be late for class. ‘Bye!” She ran out.
Hermione glared at the empty rubbish bin, twitching, wondering if she could set it on fire. Then she was reminded of the elves. They cleaned because of the horrible injustice they had to endure. She couldn’t blame them for doing their slave labor. Moreover, she was running out of hats. No time to be upset when she needed to sew hats.
Hermione glanced at her watch. She wouldn’t have time to redo it-the essay was far too long. McGonagall would understand, she hoped. Hermione trudged to breakfast, sullen.
-----
As she walked into the Great Hall, trying to hide her irritation and agitation (not to mention the nervousness that had just joined it), Malfoy gave his usual good morning smirk from the Slytherin table. She offered him a half-hearted smile in return, then sat at the Gryffindor table to brood. Or sulk. Probably both.
Just as she began to help herself to some fried eggs and toast, the owls flew in with the daily post. Her usual copy of the Daily Prophet arrived seconds later and she paid for it. Nothing interesting was going on today; not that she cared. Even if the papers were reporting that You-Know-Who had finally been defeated, there were more pressing matters. She didn’t have her homework!
Setting the Prophet aside, Hermione made to get herself some pumpkin juice only to find something blocking her way. An owl. Another owl.
Viktor’s owl.
The dark, imposing owl gave an impatient hoot and held a roll of parchment out for the taking. She frowned and took it, sending the bird off with a helpless whimper. She’d rather have a Howler than another badly written love letter.
This was her fault, really. If she just had the guts-no, the decency-to tell him that she had moved on and that her heart was set on an arrogant git in Slytherin, these owls would stop and she’d have one less thing to worry about. But no, she kept telling him that she’d see him again this summer, that things were fine, that she couldn’t wait to kiss him again . . . much to the annoyance of said arrogant git.
“Just tell the wanker you hate him and get it over with, Granger,” Draco’d said to her the last time they met up. “You’ve got a much more handsome boyfriend now, who’s also a much better Seeker.”
“I can’t just tell him I hate him!” she retorted. “He has feelings!” She resisted adding “And better Seeker, my left foot.” He was very touchy about these things, she’d found.
“I don’t care! I don’t like him writing to you about when he’s going to get his next snog! Get it over with!” he said in return. Every time they met, they’d have this discussion. And each and every time, she’d always say the same thing.
“I’ll do it tonight.”
But tonight had come and gone. Five of them had come and gone, and still, she didn’t have the heart to tell Viktor they were through. Perhaps she should’ve, though, to avoid reading how much he adored his “Herm-own-ninny.”
Hermione scanned over the letter with a frown, then glanced over at Draco. He was glaring so much his eyes nearly looked like they were closed. She gulped.
Not feeling very hungry anymore, she headed off for class.
-----
So, perhaps the Head of Gryffindor House wouldn’t be as understanding as she thought. Although McGonagall first believed Hermione was lying, that still didn’t stop her from giving her no credit for the assignment.
No. Credit.
Hermione had spent all of lunchtime brooding, sulking, and pouting. She wasn’t even looking forward to patrols now, mostly because she knew Malfoy would prod her incessantly until she told him what was bothering her. Why did he have to be as nosy as she was?
When it was time to actually do said patrols, she was feeling even worse. A headache had set in during one of her classes, not to mention cramping, making her so irritable that she yelled at a first year for checking out a book from the library that she had wanted two months ago and had already read by now.
She made her way to the starting point of the patrols, brooding, sulking, pouting, and growling, looking angrier than she had after the Yule Ball last year.
“Hello, Granger,” Malfoy said as she approached him.
She grunted in reply.
“Nice to see you, too. Ready to begin?”
Again, she grunted, and they walked.
“So. Seems we’ve had a visit from our favorite Bulgarian bastard. I would hope that was his last, tear-stained letter. Right?” His hooded grey eyes stared hard at her.
“I don’t feel like talking about it,” Hermione muttered.
“Well, I do, Granger. This has been going on for months now. Tell him you hate him.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, you daft ferret? I don’t hate him, he’s just a friend, I’m not leaving you even though no one would know or care because no one even knows we’re dating, I’ve never done this before, and I’ve had a very bad day! I’m warning you, Malfoy, I’m not up for arguing tonight! Five points for obstructing the walkway, Boot!”
Draco stared in utter surprise at Hermione. He took points for no reason, not her.
“Must be that time of the month,” Draco muttered as they passed the bewildered Ravenclaw.
“What?” asked Hermione. Her look was deadly.
“For obstructing the corridors,” he answered quickly. He’d felt the wrath of her hand once already. Was he keen on feeling it again?
She glared at him. “Like I said, I’m warning you. I don’t want to do something I’d regret.”
He held his hands up in defense. “All right, all right. I get it. We’ll talk about it later. Let’s do our patrols.”
Hermione nodded and the two walked in silence, occasionally taking points. As they passed someone humming “Weasley is Our King,” she suddenly remembered.
“Malfoy. I told you to stop making fun of Ron. You’re going to make him worse at Quidditch!”
He smirked. “Well, that’s the point, isn’t it?”
That was the entirely wrong thing to say.
Hermione shrieked at him in the tone that she saved especially for lecturing, so high and grating that it sounded like there were dolphins conversing in the school. “That’s an entirely loathsome little song you came up with! Really! He did nothing to you! And to tease him with it right after that horrible lesson-which, I might add, you made even worse! Hagrid just might get sacked! He may not be the best teacher, but he is my friend, and I thought you’d at least have the decency to respect that! But no! You and your little bint Parkinson decided you just had to act like he’s some dumb giant-shut your mouth! Don’t even try to say that he is! Did you see the way Umbridge was looking, hmm? You just made her job even easier! And besides, death is nothing to play around with! Death is very serious! I think that’s what Hagrid was trying to tell us, but that’s not the point. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?”
Draco, though much taller than Hermione, was looking rather small. He simply nodded in acknowledgement.
“Promise you’ll stop being so hard on him,” she said firmly.
“To the Weasel? Are you out of your mind? Come on, you know we have to keep up appearances! If someone goes to my father-”
“I don’t give a damn about your father right now! Promise!”
He looked even smaller. She was using “damn” now. Normally she only went for “darn,” but she went straight for the kill. And yet, he refused to give up. “Now, wait just a minute, Granger. You can’t tell me what to do!”
“Yes, I can,” She smirked. “I just did.”
He sighed, looking resigned. “Yes, Hermione. I’ll be nicer.”
Hermione knew he’d never be nicer, but it was good to at least hear him say he would. “All right, then. Let’s continue.”
After another small stretch of silence, Draco asked, “What has you so bitchy-” He winced at the look she gave him. “I mean, angry today?”
She pouted. “I don’t want to say.”
“Come on, tell me. Maybe I can make you feel better?” She hoped “feel better” wasn’t innuendo.
“No. I don’t want to say.”
“Just a hint?”
“No! I don’t want to say! I’m warning you!”
“Okay, then. I’ll start guessing. Your little gang did something stupid. No? Damn. Wanted an excuse to punch Potter. Couldn’t have been the letter. They don’t piss you off as much as they should. Your cat chew up your jumper? Oh, right. He’d never hurt anything.” He paused. “Get a bad mark?”
Hermione made a noise between a squeak and a sob.
“I see. Bet you cried your little eyes out, didn’t you? Then you punched the professor, kicked some desks over, demanded it be changed.”
“Oh, yes. Did exactly that. I’m an addict for dramatics.”
Draco grinned. “Liar.”
“It takes one to know one,” she muttered.
“Cheer up, Granger. Everyone gets a bad mark every now and then. Even I do!”
“Because you never pay attention in lessons, that’s why.”
“Too busy staring at or thinking about you, of course!” He batted his eyelashes.
“At least attempt to make your lies believable once in a while, you insufferable prat,” With a groan, she looked around at her surroundings, holding her forehead. “Is it almost over? I want to go to bed.”
Draco smiled slowly. “Not yet.”
He gently eased her against the wall of the corridor they had just entered and gave her a soft kiss. She grimaced and turned her head, trying to get free. “No, Malfoy. Not tonight. Go to the prefects’ bathroom and wank if you have to.”
“But it always makes you feel better, Granger. Not to mention me.” He dipped his head and kissed her neck, running his fingers through her hair. Again, she tried to get away.
“Malfoy, I’m serious. I’m warning you. I don’t want to!” He knew she did this all time-she loved playing hard to get. But for once, much to her surprise, the thought of shagging made her cringe.
“Just a little snog, then,” he said, a definite whine in his voice. “To get me going!” He leaned in for said snog.
“I’m warning you-!” And then before she could say anymore, it happened.
Hermione had to get him off her somehow. She had intended for it to be a shove, a little message that she was being serious this time. Only she didn’t use just her hands.
She also, by complete and utter accident, used a knee.
For a moment, it didn’t register in her brain as to why Draco had suddenly fallen to the floor and curled up. She simply thought her message had got through. But when she saw he was turning pink, tears forming in his eyes, she realized what she had done.
“Oh, my God!” she shrieked, jumping to his side. “Draco, I didn’t mean-I was just-oh, my God! Are you okay?!”
He opened his mouth to answer, but only a small squeak came out.
“I’ll-I’ll go get Madam Pomfrey, okay? Stay here!” She winced at the glare he managed. “You know what I meant! Just hold on!” Hermione ran off.
Twenty minutes later, the both of them were in the hospital wing, looking miserable (though Hermione couldn’t see him, as he was hidden behind curtains and in bed). She claimed she was sticking around to make sure a fellow prefect was all right when Pomfrey had questioned her, and thankfully she bought the story.
Hermione listened in fear as she heard Pomfrey explain slowly that she was going to heal the damage. Draco instantly protested in a slightly higher voice. She then told him that he needed to remove his trousers. More protesting. Only after the nurse threatened to tell his father about a few other questionable injuries he’d got in the past did he seem to heed her.
There was a silence, then a muttering of a healing spell.
Draco made the strangest sound she’d ever heard.
A few minutes later, he emerged from behind the curtain, looking highly disgruntled; he was carrying what she could only assume was a salve of some kind. He glared at Hermione before exiting. She followed behind him hesitantly, using all of her power not to laugh at the strange new way he was walking.
“I’m really, really sorry.”
He didn’t turn around.
“Really, I am! I promise you, I didn’t mean to do it!”
He harrumphed.
“I’m going back to Gryffindor,” she said, defeated, realizing he wasn’t going to talk to her.
“You do that,” he replied, still not turning around. Judging from the sound of his voice, his jaw was clenched. Definitely a sign not to bother him.
“Er, see you later,” Hermione bolted down a corridor and to her common room. She didn’t waste any time getting up to her dormitory, because the last thing she wanted to do was talk to someone. Once there, she promptly got into bed and shut the hangings.
Her boyfriend was angry with her. She still hadn’t written that letter to Viktor. That bad mark would haunt her forever. And, just her luck, her period was about to start. Would it ever end?
Hermione began to pull the blankets up before feeling something fluffy brushing against her neck. It wasn’t Crookshanks-he was at her feet. She sat up and pulled the covers back only to shriek and tumble out of the bed, taking the hangings with her. Her darling cat had left her a present. A dead mouse.
There she lay, trying desperately not to cry. This just wasn’t her day.
[End!]
STORY REQUEST
BRIEFLY describe what you'd like to receive: Something that could be possible in canon. And, please include a line from a Taking Back Sunday song.
What rating would you prefer? Anything up to NC-17.
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): BDSM. Beastiality.
Thank-you for participating in the Hot Summer Nights with Draco and Hermione fic exchange.
Title: Hermione Granger and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
Author: terra_katta
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Absolutely none.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine, and that depresses me sometimes. Also don’t own the book I based the title on.
Author Notes/Beta Credits: This is to take place around the beginning of chapter twenty-one in Order of the Phoenix, mainly around pages 442 to 451 (American edition). I hope it fits in well with canon, as requested. The song lines (also as requested) are taken from the song “Liar (It Takes One to Know One)” by Taking Back Sunday! :)
One million thanks go out to ldymusyc for being an awesome, awesome beta. You are also very HEWT. ♥
Do hope you enjoy, operatingroom!
Summary: Hermione Granger has a very, very bad day.
Hermione Granger and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
She hadn’t meant to do it. She really hadn’t meant to do it.
But by the name of that was holy and literary, Draco Malfoy wouldn’t listen.
She warned him more than once. In fact, Hermione warned him five times. But when it came to warnings, Malfoys never heeded them. A rather thick lot indeed. But who could blame her? This wasn’t a normal day. In fact, this was probably the worst day ever in her days of being at Hogwarts. It seemed like everything in the world that could possibly go wrong had and would continue to.
The memory of the past day was still fresh in her mind, which wasn’t helping matters much. They had been studying thestrals in Care of Magical Creatures-a highly interesting lesson, she had thought-but then that hag Umbridge had to ruin it completely. She had spent the rest of the day seething, especially because of Malfoy not helping Hagrid’s situation and because of his little quip to Ron at the end of the lesson. Honestly, he was so infuriating!
But that was only the start.
Hermione awoke the following morning, feeling slightly better now that she had slept away most of her anger, though not completely over it. Today would be a rather calm day at least, as the only thing of importance she had to do was her prefect patrols with Malfoy. They could have a good, long talk about his behavior, something she had been waiting to do since the lesson ended, but never got the chance to.
Besides, it was a pretty day! The sun was shining brightly and it was quite mild for this time of year. This had to be a good sign, right? Hermione had found through personal research that when the weather was good, her day would be good. She could always trust her research.
After getting herself ready for class, she strolled over to her desk in her dormitory and made to grab her homework. Much to her surprise, it wasn’t anywhere at all. Probably misplaced it, she told herself, and looked around for it. Five minutes later, it was nowhere to be found, and Hermione found herself highly frantic and highly irritated.
She turned to Parvati (who had just walked in) hopefully, wondering if maybe she knew. “Parvati, have you seen my homework? I left it right here.”
Almost instantly, her housemate looked guilty. “That was your homework? I thought it was rubbish.”
Perhaps she had heard her incorrectly. She prayed that she had. Hermione spoke slowly and evenly, trying to hide the anger building up. “Okay, then. What did you do with it?”
“Put it in the rubbish bin,” Parvati replied, so quickly that Hermione barely understood her. “Well, Lavender wants to see me. Don’t want to be late for class. ‘Bye!” She ran out.
Hermione glared at the empty rubbish bin, twitching, wondering if she could set it on fire. Then she was reminded of the elves. They cleaned because of the horrible injustice they had to endure. She couldn’t blame them for doing their slave labor. Moreover, she was running out of hats. No time to be upset when she needed to sew hats.
Hermione glanced at her watch. She wouldn’t have time to redo it-the essay was far too long. McGonagall would understand, she hoped. Hermione trudged to breakfast, sullen.
-----
As she walked into the Great Hall, trying to hide her irritation and agitation (not to mention the nervousness that had just joined it), Malfoy gave his usual good morning smirk from the Slytherin table. She offered him a half-hearted smile in return, then sat at the Gryffindor table to brood. Or sulk. Probably both.
Just as she began to help herself to some fried eggs and toast, the owls flew in with the daily post. Her usual copy of the Daily Prophet arrived seconds later and she paid for it. Nothing interesting was going on today; not that she cared. Even if the papers were reporting that You-Know-Who had finally been defeated, there were more pressing matters. She didn’t have her homework!
Setting the Prophet aside, Hermione made to get herself some pumpkin juice only to find something blocking her way. An owl. Another owl.
Viktor’s owl.
The dark, imposing owl gave an impatient hoot and held a roll of parchment out for the taking. She frowned and took it, sending the bird off with a helpless whimper. She’d rather have a Howler than another badly written love letter.
This was her fault, really. If she just had the guts-no, the decency-to tell him that she had moved on and that her heart was set on an arrogant git in Slytherin, these owls would stop and she’d have one less thing to worry about. But no, she kept telling him that she’d see him again this summer, that things were fine, that she couldn’t wait to kiss him again . . . much to the annoyance of said arrogant git.
“Just tell the wanker you hate him and get it over with, Granger,” Draco’d said to her the last time they met up. “You’ve got a much more handsome boyfriend now, who’s also a much better Seeker.”
“I can’t just tell him I hate him!” she retorted. “He has feelings!” She resisted adding “And better Seeker, my left foot.” He was very touchy about these things, she’d found.
“I don’t care! I don’t like him writing to you about when he’s going to get his next snog! Get it over with!” he said in return. Every time they met, they’d have this discussion. And each and every time, she’d always say the same thing.
“I’ll do it tonight.”
But tonight had come and gone. Five of them had come and gone, and still, she didn’t have the heart to tell Viktor they were through. Perhaps she should’ve, though, to avoid reading how much he adored his “Herm-own-ninny.”
Hermione scanned over the letter with a frown, then glanced over at Draco. He was glaring so much his eyes nearly looked like they were closed. She gulped.
Not feeling very hungry anymore, she headed off for class.
-----
So, perhaps the Head of Gryffindor House wouldn’t be as understanding as she thought. Although McGonagall first believed Hermione was lying, that still didn’t stop her from giving her no credit for the assignment.
No. Credit.
Hermione had spent all of lunchtime brooding, sulking, and pouting. She wasn’t even looking forward to patrols now, mostly because she knew Malfoy would prod her incessantly until she told him what was bothering her. Why did he have to be as nosy as she was?
When it was time to actually do said patrols, she was feeling even worse. A headache had set in during one of her classes, not to mention cramping, making her so irritable that she yelled at a first year for checking out a book from the library that she had wanted two months ago and had already read by now.
She made her way to the starting point of the patrols, brooding, sulking, pouting, and growling, looking angrier than she had after the Yule Ball last year.
“Hello, Granger,” Malfoy said as she approached him.
She grunted in reply.
“Nice to see you, too. Ready to begin?”
Again, she grunted, and they walked.
“So. Seems we’ve had a visit from our favorite Bulgarian bastard. I would hope that was his last, tear-stained letter. Right?” His hooded grey eyes stared hard at her.
“I don’t feel like talking about it,” Hermione muttered.
“Well, I do, Granger. This has been going on for months now. Tell him you hate him.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, you daft ferret? I don’t hate him, he’s just a friend, I’m not leaving you even though no one would know or care because no one even knows we’re dating, I’ve never done this before, and I’ve had a very bad day! I’m warning you, Malfoy, I’m not up for arguing tonight! Five points for obstructing the walkway, Boot!”
Draco stared in utter surprise at Hermione. He took points for no reason, not her.
“Must be that time of the month,” Draco muttered as they passed the bewildered Ravenclaw.
“What?” asked Hermione. Her look was deadly.
“For obstructing the corridors,” he answered quickly. He’d felt the wrath of her hand once already. Was he keen on feeling it again?
She glared at him. “Like I said, I’m warning you. I don’t want to do something I’d regret.”
He held his hands up in defense. “All right, all right. I get it. We’ll talk about it later. Let’s do our patrols.”
Hermione nodded and the two walked in silence, occasionally taking points. As they passed someone humming “Weasley is Our King,” she suddenly remembered.
“Malfoy. I told you to stop making fun of Ron. You’re going to make him worse at Quidditch!”
He smirked. “Well, that’s the point, isn’t it?”
That was the entirely wrong thing to say.
Hermione shrieked at him in the tone that she saved especially for lecturing, so high and grating that it sounded like there were dolphins conversing in the school. “That’s an entirely loathsome little song you came up with! Really! He did nothing to you! And to tease him with it right after that horrible lesson-which, I might add, you made even worse! Hagrid just might get sacked! He may not be the best teacher, but he is my friend, and I thought you’d at least have the decency to respect that! But no! You and your little bint Parkinson decided you just had to act like he’s some dumb giant-shut your mouth! Don’t even try to say that he is! Did you see the way Umbridge was looking, hmm? You just made her job even easier! And besides, death is nothing to play around with! Death is very serious! I think that’s what Hagrid was trying to tell us, but that’s not the point. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?”
Draco, though much taller than Hermione, was looking rather small. He simply nodded in acknowledgement.
“Promise you’ll stop being so hard on him,” she said firmly.
“To the Weasel? Are you out of your mind? Come on, you know we have to keep up appearances! If someone goes to my father-”
“I don’t give a damn about your father right now! Promise!”
He looked even smaller. She was using “damn” now. Normally she only went for “darn,” but she went straight for the kill. And yet, he refused to give up. “Now, wait just a minute, Granger. You can’t tell me what to do!”
“Yes, I can,” She smirked. “I just did.”
He sighed, looking resigned. “Yes, Hermione. I’ll be nicer.”
Hermione knew he’d never be nicer, but it was good to at least hear him say he would. “All right, then. Let’s continue.”
After another small stretch of silence, Draco asked, “What has you so bitchy-” He winced at the look she gave him. “I mean, angry today?”
She pouted. “I don’t want to say.”
“Come on, tell me. Maybe I can make you feel better?” She hoped “feel better” wasn’t innuendo.
“No. I don’t want to say.”
“Just a hint?”
“No! I don’t want to say! I’m warning you!”
“Okay, then. I’ll start guessing. Your little gang did something stupid. No? Damn. Wanted an excuse to punch Potter. Couldn’t have been the letter. They don’t piss you off as much as they should. Your cat chew up your jumper? Oh, right. He’d never hurt anything.” He paused. “Get a bad mark?”
Hermione made a noise between a squeak and a sob.
“I see. Bet you cried your little eyes out, didn’t you? Then you punched the professor, kicked some desks over, demanded it be changed.”
“Oh, yes. Did exactly that. I’m an addict for dramatics.”
Draco grinned. “Liar.”
“It takes one to know one,” she muttered.
“Cheer up, Granger. Everyone gets a bad mark every now and then. Even I do!”
“Because you never pay attention in lessons, that’s why.”
“Too busy staring at or thinking about you, of course!” He batted his eyelashes.
“At least attempt to make your lies believable once in a while, you insufferable prat,” With a groan, she looked around at her surroundings, holding her forehead. “Is it almost over? I want to go to bed.”
Draco smiled slowly. “Not yet.”
He gently eased her against the wall of the corridor they had just entered and gave her a soft kiss. She grimaced and turned her head, trying to get free. “No, Malfoy. Not tonight. Go to the prefects’ bathroom and wank if you have to.”
“But it always makes you feel better, Granger. Not to mention me.” He dipped his head and kissed her neck, running his fingers through her hair. Again, she tried to get away.
“Malfoy, I’m serious. I’m warning you. I don’t want to!” He knew she did this all time-she loved playing hard to get. But for once, much to her surprise, the thought of shagging made her cringe.
“Just a little snog, then,” he said, a definite whine in his voice. “To get me going!” He leaned in for said snog.
“I’m warning you-!” And then before she could say anymore, it happened.
Hermione had to get him off her somehow. She had intended for it to be a shove, a little message that she was being serious this time. Only she didn’t use just her hands.
She also, by complete and utter accident, used a knee.
For a moment, it didn’t register in her brain as to why Draco had suddenly fallen to the floor and curled up. She simply thought her message had got through. But when she saw he was turning pink, tears forming in his eyes, she realized what she had done.
“Oh, my God!” she shrieked, jumping to his side. “Draco, I didn’t mean-I was just-oh, my God! Are you okay?!”
He opened his mouth to answer, but only a small squeak came out.
“I’ll-I’ll go get Madam Pomfrey, okay? Stay here!” She winced at the glare he managed. “You know what I meant! Just hold on!” Hermione ran off.
Twenty minutes later, the both of them were in the hospital wing, looking miserable (though Hermione couldn’t see him, as he was hidden behind curtains and in bed). She claimed she was sticking around to make sure a fellow prefect was all right when Pomfrey had questioned her, and thankfully she bought the story.
Hermione listened in fear as she heard Pomfrey explain slowly that she was going to heal the damage. Draco instantly protested in a slightly higher voice. She then told him that he needed to remove his trousers. More protesting. Only after the nurse threatened to tell his father about a few other questionable injuries he’d got in the past did he seem to heed her.
There was a silence, then a muttering of a healing spell.
Draco made the strangest sound she’d ever heard.
A few minutes later, he emerged from behind the curtain, looking highly disgruntled; he was carrying what she could only assume was a salve of some kind. He glared at Hermione before exiting. She followed behind him hesitantly, using all of her power not to laugh at the strange new way he was walking.
“I’m really, really sorry.”
He didn’t turn around.
“Really, I am! I promise you, I didn’t mean to do it!”
He harrumphed.
“I’m going back to Gryffindor,” she said, defeated, realizing he wasn’t going to talk to her.
“You do that,” he replied, still not turning around. Judging from the sound of his voice, his jaw was clenched. Definitely a sign not to bother him.
“Er, see you later,” Hermione bolted down a corridor and to her common room. She didn’t waste any time getting up to her dormitory, because the last thing she wanted to do was talk to someone. Once there, she promptly got into bed and shut the hangings.
Her boyfriend was angry with her. She still hadn’t written that letter to Viktor. That bad mark would haunt her forever. And, just her luck, her period was about to start. Would it ever end?
Hermione began to pull the blankets up before feeling something fluffy brushing against her neck. It wasn’t Crookshanks-he was at her feet. She sat up and pulled the covers back only to shriek and tumble out of the bed, taking the hangings with her. Her darling cat had left her a present. A dead mouse.
There she lay, trying desperately not to cry. This just wasn’t her day.
[End!]
STORY REQUEST
BRIEFLY describe what you'd like to receive: Something that could be possible in canon. And, please include a line from a Taking Back Sunday song.
What rating would you prefer? Anything up to NC-17.
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): BDSM. Beastiality.
Thank-you for participating in the Hot Summer Nights with Draco and Hermione fic exchange.