(no subject)
Author: Irisri
Title: What was thought of as the Century Curse 8
Rating: PG/PG-13
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. Might have some OOCness.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter… sadly. If someone gives me a small portion of it, I’ll be EXTREMELY happy.
The knock on her door was what woke her. She felt safe though. Warm. And whoever was waking her up, would have hell to pay for disturbing her sleep, thus, disturbing the wonderful after effects of her dream.
"'Mione!" Forget the knocking part. Whoever was destroying what peace she had, was now rapping on her door.
She groaned and raised the blanket over her head. "Leave me alone," she muttered. She felt something russle beside her. Crookshanks? No. Crookshanks was dead. She snuggled closer to whatever it was and stopped dead. Or should she say whoever. Quickly she turned around. And then remembered.
If she wasn't so deadset on whoever it was rapping on her door not knowing she was in bed with this... person, she would have screamed. Her dream was. Not. A. Dream.
There he was, unfortunately sculpted like a freakin' God. Sure, his face wasn't perfect, his chin too pointy, cheeks a bit sharp, and Lord knew that she hated, absolutely hated blonde eyebrows. She supposed his eyelashes evened that out by being that really dark black, but she still hated them.
She felt something pressed against her leg. A silk covered pipe, maybe? Quickly, she looked under the blanket and let out a tiny squeak before putting the blanket back in its proper place---on top of him.
"'MIONE!" Good lord. Ron was outside. She'd forgotten someone was at the door, yelling at her, for her. Oh God.
"Uh---" And the fucking door opened. She was sitting up, her breasts bare to the world, probably looking very sleepy and like she'd just had some, ah, activity.
Ron's cheeks and ears went bright red. And then he went for the stupid wand. Her day was definitely not going well.
"Immobilious!" He shouted, pointing at Malfoy. By that point, Draco Malfoy's eyes were opened and staring at Hermione's rather bare back.
It looks creamy, he thought sleepily. It was then he realized he couldn't move. At all.
"What did he do, Hermione?" Ron asked shrilly. Good lord, Hermione thought, he sounded like a girl with that voice.
"Ron---"
"He raped you, didn't he? Didn't he?"
Trust Weasley to be so incredibly stupid, Draco thought.
"Ron, please---"
"You're under the Imparius Curse aren't you? Aren't you?"
"Ron, just---"
Ron did some spells, searching for a sign she was indeed cursed, for some hint. "Hermione, you're---"
"Shut up!" Hermione screamed. She ran a hand through her hair before grabbing her tank top from off the floor and pulling it over her head. "Just, just let me think, Ron."
"You're sleeping with Draco Malfoy, Hermione!" he yelled.
"I know that," Hermione replied, frustrated.
"You're still dating me!"
Hermione looked at him sorrowfully. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
"So he did have you under Imperio!"
"No, he didn't," Hermione whispered.
Ron stared at Hermione. Looked at the male character beside her, who was starting to regain his ability to move. "Did we mean so little?" He asked harshly.
"What? No!" Hermione exclaimed. "It was an accident. He was helping me get rid of my bruises, and---"
"Bruises?" Ron cut in. "How did you get bruises?"
"The slap was hard enough to bruise, Ron."
"You're no better than a Knockturn Alley whore," Ron spat.
By then, Draco was able to move, able to talk. "You seem to know a lot about it, Weasley. How many times have you been down there in the time you and Granger have been dating?" He asked.
Ron went a deeper shade of red. "I'm not like you, Malfoy," he replied.
"Obviously, you are correct, Weasley," Draco sneered as he pulled on some boxers.
"You're the one sleeping with a whore, you stupid sonofa---"
It was like blacking out again for Draco. One second, he was on Granger's bed carefully brushing his fingers through his hair, the next, he was three inches away from Weasley's face, his hand connected to the Weasel's neck.
"Call her that again," Draco dared. "Come on. Do it. But you won't be alive to say it after that."
"Malfoy!" Hermione was up out of the bed, clad in only her tank top and bikini style cotton panties. Obviously, her sense of modesty had gone awry. "Let him go!" She glared at Ron. "And get out! We're offically over. Tell all of Hogwarts for all I care! Just get the hell out." Draco let go of Weasel's neck slowly, giving him a warning look.
He wasn't sure why Weasel calling Granger a whore rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was the great sex. Maybe he'd just used it as an excuse to grab the idiot's neck, and threaten to squeeze the life out of him and see the fear in his eyes.
That was it. The only reason he'd jumped to Granger's defense.
The Weasel finally left, after shrugging his shoulders to put his second-hand robes back in the right place.
He turned to Granger. He'd not really noticed before, but she was wearing underwear that was black. Cotton maybe, but black. They also had the words on there, "Sex, Lies, And..." They weren't the kind of underwear that he'd imagined Granger wearing, yet there they were. He looked back up at her face.
"Thanks," she said softly.
"Don't mention it, Granger," Draco replied. "Ever. It wasn't a favor for you, anyway."
"You're back to your jerky self, Malfoy! Can't you, just for once, be polite to me?"
"No," he said shortly.
"Why?"
His eyes flicked down for a second and looked back up. "Why do you think?"
For what felt like the millionth time that morning, Hermione said, "God!" And threw her hands up in the air before going into her bathroom and slamming the door behind her.
Hermione felt like everyone was staring at her. Obviously, Ron had taken her suggestion and told everyone at Hogwarts she'd been caught in bed with someone other than him, and Malfoy no less.
Speaking of the man in question, he was there. Bragging about how easy it was to get her there. That figured. She should have known that he would say something like that.
The witches of Hogwarts, especially the Gryffindors, were glaring at her and whispering about her in each other's ears. She'd heard the term, "Whore, mudblood, Scarlet Woman Granger," more times than she could count. Her Headmistress was treating her oddly, too.
She sighed. It was the Rita Skeeter scheme all over again.
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Title: What was thought of as the Century Curse 8
Rating: PG/PG-13
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. Might have some OOCness.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter… sadly. If someone gives me a small portion of it, I’ll be EXTREMELY happy.
The knock on her door was what woke her. She felt safe though. Warm. And whoever was waking her up, would have hell to pay for disturbing her sleep, thus, disturbing the wonderful after effects of her dream.
"'Mione!" Forget the knocking part. Whoever was destroying what peace she had, was now rapping on her door.
She groaned and raised the blanket over her head. "Leave me alone," she muttered. She felt something russle beside her. Crookshanks? No. Crookshanks was dead. She snuggled closer to whatever it was and stopped dead. Or should she say whoever. Quickly she turned around. And then remembered.
If she wasn't so deadset on whoever it was rapping on her door not knowing she was in bed with this... person, she would have screamed. Her dream was. Not. A. Dream.
There he was, unfortunately sculpted like a freakin' God. Sure, his face wasn't perfect, his chin too pointy, cheeks a bit sharp, and Lord knew that she hated, absolutely hated blonde eyebrows. She supposed his eyelashes evened that out by being that really dark black, but she still hated them.
She felt something pressed against her leg. A silk covered pipe, maybe? Quickly, she looked under the blanket and let out a tiny squeak before putting the blanket back in its proper place---on top of him.
"'MIONE!" Good lord. Ron was outside. She'd forgotten someone was at the door, yelling at her, for her. Oh God.
"Uh---" And the fucking door opened. She was sitting up, her breasts bare to the world, probably looking very sleepy and like she'd just had some, ah, activity.
Ron's cheeks and ears went bright red. And then he went for the stupid wand. Her day was definitely not going well.
"Immobilious!" He shouted, pointing at Malfoy. By that point, Draco Malfoy's eyes were opened and staring at Hermione's rather bare back.
It looks creamy, he thought sleepily. It was then he realized he couldn't move. At all.
"What did he do, Hermione?" Ron asked shrilly. Good lord, Hermione thought, he sounded like a girl with that voice.
"Ron---"
"He raped you, didn't he? Didn't he?"
Trust Weasley to be so incredibly stupid, Draco thought.
"Ron, please---"
"You're under the Imparius Curse aren't you? Aren't you?"
"Ron, just---"
Ron did some spells, searching for a sign she was indeed cursed, for some hint. "Hermione, you're---"
"Shut up!" Hermione screamed. She ran a hand through her hair before grabbing her tank top from off the floor and pulling it over her head. "Just, just let me think, Ron."
"You're sleeping with Draco Malfoy, Hermione!" he yelled.
"I know that," Hermione replied, frustrated.
"You're still dating me!"
Hermione looked at him sorrowfully. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
"So he did have you under Imperio!"
"No, he didn't," Hermione whispered.
Ron stared at Hermione. Looked at the male character beside her, who was starting to regain his ability to move. "Did we mean so little?" He asked harshly.
"What? No!" Hermione exclaimed. "It was an accident. He was helping me get rid of my bruises, and---"
"Bruises?" Ron cut in. "How did you get bruises?"
"The slap was hard enough to bruise, Ron."
"You're no better than a Knockturn Alley whore," Ron spat.
By then, Draco was able to move, able to talk. "You seem to know a lot about it, Weasley. How many times have you been down there in the time you and Granger have been dating?" He asked.
Ron went a deeper shade of red. "I'm not like you, Malfoy," he replied.
"Obviously, you are correct, Weasley," Draco sneered as he pulled on some boxers.
"You're the one sleeping with a whore, you stupid sonofa---"
It was like blacking out again for Draco. One second, he was on Granger's bed carefully brushing his fingers through his hair, the next, he was three inches away from Weasley's face, his hand connected to the Weasel's neck.
"Call her that again," Draco dared. "Come on. Do it. But you won't be alive to say it after that."
"Malfoy!" Hermione was up out of the bed, clad in only her tank top and bikini style cotton panties. Obviously, her sense of modesty had gone awry. "Let him go!" She glared at Ron. "And get out! We're offically over. Tell all of Hogwarts for all I care! Just get the hell out." Draco let go of Weasel's neck slowly, giving him a warning look.
He wasn't sure why Weasel calling Granger a whore rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was the great sex. Maybe he'd just used it as an excuse to grab the idiot's neck, and threaten to squeeze the life out of him and see the fear in his eyes.
That was it. The only reason he'd jumped to Granger's defense.
The Weasel finally left, after shrugging his shoulders to put his second-hand robes back in the right place.
He turned to Granger. He'd not really noticed before, but she was wearing underwear that was black. Cotton maybe, but black. They also had the words on there, "Sex, Lies, And..." They weren't the kind of underwear that he'd imagined Granger wearing, yet there they were. He looked back up at her face.
"Thanks," she said softly.
"Don't mention it, Granger," Draco replied. "Ever. It wasn't a favor for you, anyway."
"You're back to your jerky self, Malfoy! Can't you, just for once, be polite to me?"
"No," he said shortly.
"Why?"
His eyes flicked down for a second and looked back up. "Why do you think?"
For what felt like the millionth time that morning, Hermione said, "God!" And threw her hands up in the air before going into her bathroom and slamming the door behind her.
Hermione felt like everyone was staring at her. Obviously, Ron had taken her suggestion and told everyone at Hogwarts she'd been caught in bed with someone other than him, and Malfoy no less.
Speaking of the man in question, he was there. Bragging about how easy it was to get her there. That figured. She should have known that he would say something like that.
The witches of Hogwarts, especially the Gryffindors, were glaring at her and whispering about her in each other's ears. She'd heard the term, "Whore, mudblood, Scarlet Woman Granger," more times than she could count. Her Headmistress was treating her oddly, too.
She sighed. It was the Rita Skeeter scheme all over again.
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