(no subject)
Author: Irisri
Title: What was thought of as the Century Curse 4
Rating: PG
Summery: It seems a curse has been set upon the Malfoy family. Now, Malfoy must do everything within his power to break it. But he has to ask. Why him?
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Warning: Might contain slight HBP spoilers.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter… sadly. If someone gives me a small portion of it, I’ll be EXTREMELY happy.
Draco was currently hopping across his bedroom floor. If his father was to see him now, he would be disowned, disfigured, and cut of from his inheritance. It wasn't exactly his fault. His trousers weren't corporating that morning. He’d woken up so disorientated that when he’d tried to sit up, he just slumped back on his bed, resting for another couple of minutes. Then, he’d walked into the loo and, with his hands on the sink bracing him up so he would fall again, he looked in the mirror. His eyes were almost blue, instead of the cold grey they usually were, and his cheeks seemed almost pink. It was something that didn’t go well with his complexion. He’d groaned and leaned his forehead on the mirror. Ten minutes later, he was out of the loo. The stubble that he usually shaved off in the morning was still on his cheeks.
Now, as was already told, he was hopping across his bedroom floor trying to get on trousers that seemed have gotten a little smaller over night. Briefly he wondered if Granger had snuck in and cast a shrinking charm on his clothing, but decided that she couldn’t have.
When he finally got on the damned trousers, he brushed his hair out of his face and walked out of his bedroom, only to stop dead. He growled almost silently, but obviously loud enough to let the Mudblood know he was in the room.
Granger looked up briefly before she looked back down at her book and flipped the thin piece of paper to the next page.
“Good morning,” she said finally.
“Morning,” he replied, because it obviously was not good. He went over to the small tray beside Granger and poured some coffee into a mug that was sitting beside the pot.
“I didn’t know you drank coffee.”
“I didn’t know you did either,” she returned absently, flipping through the pages of the book she was reading. “You always looked more like the wine sort to me.”
He stared at her in outrage. Her hair was as disheveled as ever, her cheeks were rosy, her hands covered in ink stains as usual, her blouse had creases in it, and was in bad need of an ironing, her skirt went past her knees, almost to her shins, and anything below that was covered in stockings. “You’re calling me a girl,” he said finally.
“Must we fight, Malfoy?”
“Yes if you’re calling me a girl. Just because I appreciate appearances and you don’t, doesn’t mean I---“
“Oh, just shut up, Malfoy. It wasn’t a barb if that’s what you’re thinking. We’ve got to do rounds tonight, so you’d better get prepared.”
“I thought it was you not we.”
“It appears Professor McGonagall wants us to civilly walk through the corridors together to prove to our dear housemates that we are no longer at war.”
Malfoy groaned and dropped his head to his hands.
“Hermione Granger!” Hermione turned to see Ginny running up to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you and Ron are going out---again?!”
“But we aren’t.”
“Then what was that snog about in your common room, hmm?”
Hermione felt herself turn a deep, deep red. “How do you know about that?” she finally asked.
“I’m not revealing my sources, no matter how stupid they are.”
“It was Malfoy wasn’t it?” Hermione gasped. “He had no right, the ferret! What’d he say?”
“He only told me, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“What did he say?” Hermione repeated through gritted teeth.
“He said to tell you to ‘at least have the decency to pull the Weasel into your room, Granger. And would you be a dear and do something about your hair? Also, Granger, you might want to think about what I could tell the school if you keep up your act. So please, try not to make me no longer have heart failure because of the disgusting sight of you Gryffindork idiots tongue-twisting.’” Through the whole quote, Ginny held one forefinger up and closed her eyes, imitating Malfoy’s voice.
“Well, you can tell him to just stuff it.”
“Where?” Ginny asked with a pleasured grin.
“Where the sun doesn’t shine unless he’s naked, but forget the naked part.” Hermione shuddered at the thought of him naked. He was probably small everywhere and she meant everywhere. Not that she thought about it. The man wasn’t a god after all, he was less than perfect. Even with the almost-silver blonde hair.
Draco walked into his common room and pulled a chair up behind him with his foot while he juggled books on his arms. Seventh year was must definitely not his favorite. Although, this year he didn’t have to worry about getting a Dark Mark, or fulfilling dangerous plots, or worrying about an insane lunatic who wanted all Mudbloods and half-bloods destroyed off the face of the earth, even though he was half-blood himself.
Draco thought that if Mudblood and half-breeds were to be destroyed, put into slavery, have no magic, etc. in the Wizarding world, a half-blood should not be leading them through it. The very idea was laughable. Just because the half-blood in question was Salezar Slytherin's last heir, didn't make him Merlin or one of the Gods.
The common room portrait opened and slammed shut again and a fuming Hermione Mudblood Granger came storming into the room.
“What the hell do you mean by telling Ginny about my affairs?” she yelled at him shrilly.
“Who is Ginny, exactly?” he asked absently, skimming through his Potions book.
“You call her Weaselette, remember?”
“Ah, yes. The Weasel’s sister.”
“Yes, but back to the point,” she said and breathed in really deep, and he could already see a loud argument coming. “What the hell do you mean by telling Ginny of all people about my relationships? What right do you have? Don’t you know that Ginny is absolutely the biggest, worst gossip of Hogwarts? The girl is going to be a news reporter, for Merlin sakes!”
“I thought you liked the Weaselette.”
“Of course I like her! But she couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it! That’s why we kept her hidden during the war, dammit! If she’d been caught and knew where we were, she would have just blurted it out to the damn Death Eaters too much!” she didn’t seem to notice her inaccuracy and continued, “Now, tell me why!”
“You are in a spit, aren’t you?”
“Shut up!” she screamed. “If you have a problem with me and Ron snogging in the bloody common room why didn’t you just say so instead of telling Ginny about it?”
“Really, you’re making too much out of this,” he murmured, looking back down at his book.
“You’re such a damn coward, that’s why!” she declared. “You couldn’t even finish off Dumbledore because you were so scared!”
He shot up, striding over to her and asked loudly, “Is that what you wanted me to do? Is it? Because, if I recall correctly, you told me it was a damn brave thing to do! So which is it, Granger? Coward or brave? Because I’m so damn sick of your Mudblood ways and your prejudice!”
“You want to talk about prejudice? Alright then!” she yelled back. “How about this? Filthy Godsdamned Mudblood! Don’t know her place! Screwed up Gryffindorks, think they’re all that. You think I don’t remember any of that? Well, I do! You stuffy, pompous, stupid idiotic---“
****
Hermione’s lips were covered by something soft, strong. It took a moment to realize Draco Malfoy was kissing her even though her eyes were wide open watching his. He wasn’t really kissing her actually. He was more like holding his lips on hers, pressing them brutally together. That was, until he started to move. His tongue started demanding entrance to her mouth and she pressed her lips shut even harder. Somehow, he gained entrance though. For some reason, she closed her eyes as his tongue played over hers. She pulled one of her arms free that had been gripped in his hands just a few moments before and wrapped it around his neck, pulling him closer.
His hair, it wasn’t something she’d expected. She’d expect thin hair, wispy as a baby’s. She’d expected it to be silky as water, not slightly tangled in some parts, and rough in others. She’d not expected his body to mold so well with hers, or to feel that his legs were strong, not thin and stick-like.
Then he pulled away, and she struggled to regain her composure. “Why did you do that?” she demanded.
He smirked. “It was a great way to shut you up.”
She stared up at him with disbelieving eyes. She pulled away from him and raised her hand and slapped him as hard as she could across the face. She turned and ran from the common room, into her bedroom, and collapsed on her bed.
Draco Malfoy held his hand to his face, trying to press away the sting that he hadn't let show when she'd slapped him. It was the second time. The second time she'd done that! And why the hell had he let her get away with it? The answer came unbidden. Because he was so damn fasinated on how she could kiss like that.
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Title: What was thought of as the Century Curse 4
Rating: PG
Summery: It seems a curse has been set upon the Malfoy family. Now, Malfoy must do everything within his power to break it. But he has to ask. Why him?
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Warning: Might contain slight HBP spoilers.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter… sadly. If someone gives me a small portion of it, I’ll be EXTREMELY happy.
Draco was currently hopping across his bedroom floor. If his father was to see him now, he would be disowned, disfigured, and cut of from his inheritance. It wasn't exactly his fault. His trousers weren't corporating that morning. He’d woken up so disorientated that when he’d tried to sit up, he just slumped back on his bed, resting for another couple of minutes. Then, he’d walked into the loo and, with his hands on the sink bracing him up so he would fall again, he looked in the mirror. His eyes were almost blue, instead of the cold grey they usually were, and his cheeks seemed almost pink. It was something that didn’t go well with his complexion. He’d groaned and leaned his forehead on the mirror. Ten minutes later, he was out of the loo. The stubble that he usually shaved off in the morning was still on his cheeks.
Now, as was already told, he was hopping across his bedroom floor trying to get on trousers that seemed have gotten a little smaller over night. Briefly he wondered if Granger had snuck in and cast a shrinking charm on his clothing, but decided that she couldn’t have.
When he finally got on the damned trousers, he brushed his hair out of his face and walked out of his bedroom, only to stop dead. He growled almost silently, but obviously loud enough to let the Mudblood know he was in the room.
Granger looked up briefly before she looked back down at her book and flipped the thin piece of paper to the next page.
“Good morning,” she said finally.
“Morning,” he replied, because it obviously was not good. He went over to the small tray beside Granger and poured some coffee into a mug that was sitting beside the pot.
“I didn’t know you drank coffee.”
“I didn’t know you did either,” she returned absently, flipping through the pages of the book she was reading. “You always looked more like the wine sort to me.”
He stared at her in outrage. Her hair was as disheveled as ever, her cheeks were rosy, her hands covered in ink stains as usual, her blouse had creases in it, and was in bad need of an ironing, her skirt went past her knees, almost to her shins, and anything below that was covered in stockings. “You’re calling me a girl,” he said finally.
“Must we fight, Malfoy?”
“Yes if you’re calling me a girl. Just because I appreciate appearances and you don’t, doesn’t mean I---“
“Oh, just shut up, Malfoy. It wasn’t a barb if that’s what you’re thinking. We’ve got to do rounds tonight, so you’d better get prepared.”
“I thought it was you not we.”
“It appears Professor McGonagall wants us to civilly walk through the corridors together to prove to our dear housemates that we are no longer at war.”
Malfoy groaned and dropped his head to his hands.
“Hermione Granger!” Hermione turned to see Ginny running up to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you and Ron are going out---again?!”
“But we aren’t.”
“Then what was that snog about in your common room, hmm?”
Hermione felt herself turn a deep, deep red. “How do you know about that?” she finally asked.
“I’m not revealing my sources, no matter how stupid they are.”
“It was Malfoy wasn’t it?” Hermione gasped. “He had no right, the ferret! What’d he say?”
“He only told me, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“What did he say?” Hermione repeated through gritted teeth.
“He said to tell you to ‘at least have the decency to pull the Weasel into your room, Granger. And would you be a dear and do something about your hair? Also, Granger, you might want to think about what I could tell the school if you keep up your act. So please, try not to make me no longer have heart failure because of the disgusting sight of you Gryffindork idiots tongue-twisting.’” Through the whole quote, Ginny held one forefinger up and closed her eyes, imitating Malfoy’s voice.
“Well, you can tell him to just stuff it.”
“Where?” Ginny asked with a pleasured grin.
“Where the sun doesn’t shine unless he’s naked, but forget the naked part.” Hermione shuddered at the thought of him naked. He was probably small everywhere and she meant everywhere. Not that she thought about it. The man wasn’t a god after all, he was less than perfect. Even with the almost-silver blonde hair.
Draco walked into his common room and pulled a chair up behind him with his foot while he juggled books on his arms. Seventh year was must definitely not his favorite. Although, this year he didn’t have to worry about getting a Dark Mark, or fulfilling dangerous plots, or worrying about an insane lunatic who wanted all Mudbloods and half-bloods destroyed off the face of the earth, even though he was half-blood himself.
Draco thought that if Mudblood and half-breeds were to be destroyed, put into slavery, have no magic, etc. in the Wizarding world, a half-blood should not be leading them through it. The very idea was laughable. Just because the half-blood in question was Salezar Slytherin's last heir, didn't make him Merlin or one of the Gods.
The common room portrait opened and slammed shut again and a fuming Hermione Mudblood Granger came storming into the room.
“What the hell do you mean by telling Ginny about my affairs?” she yelled at him shrilly.
“Who is Ginny, exactly?” he asked absently, skimming through his Potions book.
“You call her Weaselette, remember?”
“Ah, yes. The Weasel’s sister.”
“Yes, but back to the point,” she said and breathed in really deep, and he could already see a loud argument coming. “What the hell do you mean by telling Ginny of all people about my relationships? What right do you have? Don’t you know that Ginny is absolutely the biggest, worst gossip of Hogwarts? The girl is going to be a news reporter, for Merlin sakes!”
“I thought you liked the Weaselette.”
“Of course I like her! But she couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it! That’s why we kept her hidden during the war, dammit! If she’d been caught and knew where we were, she would have just blurted it out to the damn Death Eaters too much!” she didn’t seem to notice her inaccuracy and continued, “Now, tell me why!”
“You are in a spit, aren’t you?”
“Shut up!” she screamed. “If you have a problem with me and Ron snogging in the bloody common room why didn’t you just say so instead of telling Ginny about it?”
“Really, you’re making too much out of this,” he murmured, looking back down at his book.
“You’re such a damn coward, that’s why!” she declared. “You couldn’t even finish off Dumbledore because you were so scared!”
He shot up, striding over to her and asked loudly, “Is that what you wanted me to do? Is it? Because, if I recall correctly, you told me it was a damn brave thing to do! So which is it, Granger? Coward or brave? Because I’m so damn sick of your Mudblood ways and your prejudice!”
“You want to talk about prejudice? Alright then!” she yelled back. “How about this? Filthy Godsdamned Mudblood! Don’t know her place! Screwed up Gryffindorks, think they’re all that. You think I don’t remember any of that? Well, I do! You stuffy, pompous, stupid idiotic---“
****
Hermione’s lips were covered by something soft, strong. It took a moment to realize Draco Malfoy was kissing her even though her eyes were wide open watching his. He wasn’t really kissing her actually. He was more like holding his lips on hers, pressing them brutally together. That was, until he started to move. His tongue started demanding entrance to her mouth and she pressed her lips shut even harder. Somehow, he gained entrance though. For some reason, she closed her eyes as his tongue played over hers. She pulled one of her arms free that had been gripped in his hands just a few moments before and wrapped it around his neck, pulling him closer.
His hair, it wasn’t something she’d expected. She’d expect thin hair, wispy as a baby’s. She’d expected it to be silky as water, not slightly tangled in some parts, and rough in others. She’d not expected his body to mold so well with hers, or to feel that his legs were strong, not thin and stick-like.
Then he pulled away, and she struggled to regain her composure. “Why did you do that?” she demanded.
He smirked. “It was a great way to shut you up.”
She stared up at him with disbelieving eyes. She pulled away from him and raised her hand and slapped him as hard as she could across the face. She turned and ran from the common room, into her bedroom, and collapsed on her bed.
Draco Malfoy held his hand to his face, trying to press away the sting that he hadn't let show when she'd slapped him. It was the second time. The second time she'd done that! And why the hell had he let her get away with it? The answer came unbidden. Because he was so damn fasinated on how she could kiss like that.
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