Dramione Fic
Title: (Pending)
Ships(Eventual or otherwise): Draco/Hermione, Blaise/Ginny, Ron/Luna, a bit of Harry/Hermione
Rating: PG-13 for now. It should get steamy later on.
Summary: Starts after HBP. Draco is under the protection of the order, much to the Golden Trio's dismay. McGonagall allows him back at school, though no one wants him there, except strangely enough, Blaise, the new Head Boy. Draco tries to pay Blaise back for saving him from Slytherin house, but a plan to thwart Potter backfires. Now he has to deal with this strange pull towards Granger, not realizing it was always there...
Note: No, this isn't one where he's loved her all along or anything. I tried my best to keep everything canon, cause we all know HBP did wonderful things things for Dramione shipper land;D
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“Hermione, dear, can you bring this up to Draco?”
Hermione looked over as she was heading by the kitchen in Grimmauld Place Number 12 to see Molly gesture to a made up tray of food. Hermione hesitated with a grimace before slumping and accepting the tray.
Trudging up the steps, she wondered how she could’ve been dumb enough to ask how it could get worse than Dumbledore dying. Well, of course besides the obvious. Thinking Malfoy would ever have asked the Order for help simply had not occurred to her. She thought he’d had too much pride and would die before accepting the help of “Muggle-lovers”.
But no, she sighed. Here she was, bringing Draco food because he was too much of a twat to dine with the family, not that anyone wanted to be reminded of his presence. According to Remus, he was a hurt, scared little boy who’d rather attack a friendly hand then accept comfort. So if she thought he was unpleasant in school, he was ten times worse now, living in such close quarters.
Reaching Malfoy’s room, Hermione carefully balanced the tray as she knocked on the door and rolled her eyes impatiently, in anticipation of his terse regard. She heard footsteps right before the door was yanked open. She immediately thrust the tray out to him, her eyes lowered dully, as if bored.
“Molly says ‘eat’.” When he didn’t take it, she shook the tray slightly at him in annoyance. “Here.”
Instead, he stepped back deliberately and gestured to the desk. “Put it over there, Mudblood.”
Slowly, Hermione finally looked up at him, her head cocked slightly, to see him challenging her with his gaze. Then, she smirked. She suddenly removed her hands from the tray folding them across her chest, the tray levitating in front of her.
“You know the day you perfect the talent of pulling your lip over your heading and swallowing is a day you can finally consider yourself having done something worthwhile.”
With that she turned to stroll away.
Suddenly she heard the tray crash against the wall and some invisible force was pulling her back into the room. She let out a cry as she crashed into Draco’s chest, before being pushed back abruptly against the wall next to the door of his room. Draco held her pinned by her upper arms.
“How dare you show me anything but deference, Mudblood.” Draco railed at her.
That was it.
Hermione met his glare head on as her knee came up swiftly between his legs. Draco immediately crumpled, his face contorting in pain, as he sank to the floor. Hermione gave him an extra push and stared down at him.
“How dare you put your hands on me, Malferret? Huh? How dare you come into this house seeking our care and protection, then treat us like servants? How dare you expect anything when you spent all last year trying to kill Dumbledore, the late head of the very Order you sought refuge from? Where I come from, hypocrites and bigots are abhorred, no matter what blood they carry.”
“You think I care?” Draco groaned, rolling to his feet.
“No, of course not. Your hate-crimes are just that. An emotion. Emotions aren’t rational, they don’t have to have any reasonable logic behind them, they just are. And it’s Voldemort’s hate for what he is, that led to you being here. Why your father is in Prison. Why he killed your mother. Why, in your eyes, your life is ruined because you had to take pity from some muggle-borns and other people you hate.”
Draco nailed her with a glare of contempt. “Are we going to sing songs and hold hands now, Granger?”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “I’ve simply had enough of your ungrateful, free-loading ways, you arse. Tell me, for all the wealth and prestige of the Malfoy line, where does that leave you?”
“Far better off then you,” Draco bit back. “For even if I am in hiding and at the mercy of muggle-loving fools, I’ll always be far better than you.”
“Oh, really?” Hermione stepped up to him.
Draco nodded vigorously. “Merde, yeah!”
Hermione laughed derisively. “Your standards on which you base yourself must be terribly low, Malfoy. What do they call cowards in your world? Because here they’d call it trying to pull off a most horrendous deed and then not even able to follow through with it, to save their own mother from certain death. That’s right, Draco. You killed your mother. While she was waiting in misery for you to carry out your little task, you failed and then ran off with Snape to save your own sorry hyde. So tell me,” she paused. “What makes a coward in your world because I am dying to figure out how you still see yourself as above all of us.”
Draco had paled when she mentioned his mother. She could see his jaw working as his lips trembled. She turned her head in disgust then, which was a mistake. Draco gripped her hair at the base of her neck and pulled her head back hard. Hermione’s mouth opened in pain.
“You…” he started out in a dangerously low tone. “You foul…loathsome…evil little bitch. Stay, the fuck,” he yanked hard on her hair then, making her gasp, “away from me. You filthy little whore.” Just as abruptly, he released her shoving her away from him and out the door. The door slammed in her face.
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After he shoved her out the door, Draco went on a terrible rampage, throwing anything he could get his hands on. What gave her the right?! How dare she speak to him at all let alone such wrongfull things?! She was nothing but Potty and Weasel’s whore! A Mudblood not deserving to be taught magic!
After tirading about cheeky, upstart Mudbloods in his head a while, he finally calmed and sank against the wall, laughing. Perfect Head Gryffindor just gave it to him like a Slytherin. Like he didn’t know it was his fault his mother was dead. That she was probably tortured before she died, knowing her son was a failure and she would have to pay the price for it. Who needed Lucius when Mudblood Granger could remind him what a failure he was; and right when he felt he couldn’t feel any lower. Draco eyes narrowed then. But what right did the mudblood have to remind him of anything? None. She had no right. He didn’t ask for this. Snape told him it was this or watch his mother be tortured and killed before he met the same fate, and decided for him, before leaving him to make appearances for Voldemort. That was a month and a half ago. Since then, his days had been filled with hostile glares, silences, or avoiding his gaze, while the mother of the overwhelming amount of red-headed spawn continuously pushed food onto him. Draco swore she wished to make him as fat as she was, annoying cow. She always smelled of some sort of sugary substance like cinnamon or apples. His mother had always smelt of the finest cologne. However he’d noticed Mrs. Weasley reminded him of how stern his mother could be, yet with one large difference. There was a warmth missing in his mother that was prominent in Weasley’s. His mother never rose her voice and her manner was cool. Weasley was quick to temper and yelled all the time. Ronald, get your lazy arse out of bed right now! Fred, don’t curse in front of your sister! Ginerva, stop sulking or you can clean out the basement!
They took his wand, so he couldn’t even cast a sound-proofing spell around his room to block out the constant yelling. At Malfoy Manor, it was always quiet. Not even the house-elves cleaning made any noise. His father was always away on business and his mother was either shopping or out visitng friends. Which was why it was odd that he’d gotten used to the pounding floorboards outside his room so quick. He hardly noticed the sound anymore.
He did notice when the Golden Trio of Gits returned from somewhere, when they received their Hogwarts letters last week, when Granger found out she was Head Girl, whenever her and Romeo Weaslebee had a fight. Why Potter didn’t just hex them silent actually made sense to Draco since that would be the smart thing to do, and when had Potter ever been known to be the smart one of the lot.
Finally calm, Draco stood. Thinking derisively of the Golden Trio of Gits was always comforting. He’d spent years doing it, and it was the only outlet that provided any relief for his bottled up tension and aggression.
Though they took his wand and he was not able to retrieve any of his personal effects, the room they gave him was stocked with a large bookcase of mostly legit wizarding books, some muggle literature, and only a few Dark Art tomes. Considering the house’s history of Dark Wizards, Draco knew they probably missed those few tomes in preparing it for him to use. Don’t want encourage the young Death Eater in training to act out his wicked ways. Draco smirked, thinking this. But despite his wish to contradict their wishes, he found himself drawn to the muggle novels.
He tried reading The DaVinci Code at first but the entire thing was under the assumption that Jesus Christ wasn’t a Wizard and persecuted by Muggles. Or at least there was no mention of Muggles and Wizards and so he tried another. Ten minutes after picking up a paperback called Ender’s Game he was entranced. That was what he was reading before Granger was sent up by Satan to force him into gluttony once again. So he laid back with his book and let himself forget for a while.
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Next chap, we see Ron/Hermione and how it doesn't seem to be working. Plus, Draco goes to Diagon Alley with the Order crew.
NOTE: I'm sort of a newb at writing, since I haven't attempted it in years, so be kind.
Ships(Eventual or otherwise): Draco/Hermione, Blaise/Ginny, Ron/Luna, a bit of Harry/Hermione
Rating: PG-13 for now. It should get steamy later on.
Summary: Starts after HBP. Draco is under the protection of the order, much to the Golden Trio's dismay. McGonagall allows him back at school, though no one wants him there, except strangely enough, Blaise, the new Head Boy. Draco tries to pay Blaise back for saving him from Slytherin house, but a plan to thwart Potter backfires. Now he has to deal with this strange pull towards Granger, not realizing it was always there...
Note: No, this isn't one where he's loved her all along or anything. I tried my best to keep everything canon, cause we all know HBP did wonderful things things for Dramione shipper land;D
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“Hermione, dear, can you bring this up to Draco?”
Hermione looked over as she was heading by the kitchen in Grimmauld Place Number 12 to see Molly gesture to a made up tray of food. Hermione hesitated with a grimace before slumping and accepting the tray.
Trudging up the steps, she wondered how she could’ve been dumb enough to ask how it could get worse than Dumbledore dying. Well, of course besides the obvious. Thinking Malfoy would ever have asked the Order for help simply had not occurred to her. She thought he’d had too much pride and would die before accepting the help of “Muggle-lovers”.
But no, she sighed. Here she was, bringing Draco food because he was too much of a twat to dine with the family, not that anyone wanted to be reminded of his presence. According to Remus, he was a hurt, scared little boy who’d rather attack a friendly hand then accept comfort. So if she thought he was unpleasant in school, he was ten times worse now, living in such close quarters.
Reaching Malfoy’s room, Hermione carefully balanced the tray as she knocked on the door and rolled her eyes impatiently, in anticipation of his terse regard. She heard footsteps right before the door was yanked open. She immediately thrust the tray out to him, her eyes lowered dully, as if bored.
“Molly says ‘eat’.” When he didn’t take it, she shook the tray slightly at him in annoyance. “Here.”
Instead, he stepped back deliberately and gestured to the desk. “Put it over there, Mudblood.”
Slowly, Hermione finally looked up at him, her head cocked slightly, to see him challenging her with his gaze. Then, she smirked. She suddenly removed her hands from the tray folding them across her chest, the tray levitating in front of her.
“You know the day you perfect the talent of pulling your lip over your heading and swallowing is a day you can finally consider yourself having done something worthwhile.”
With that she turned to stroll away.
Suddenly she heard the tray crash against the wall and some invisible force was pulling her back into the room. She let out a cry as she crashed into Draco’s chest, before being pushed back abruptly against the wall next to the door of his room. Draco held her pinned by her upper arms.
“How dare you show me anything but deference, Mudblood.” Draco railed at her.
That was it.
Hermione met his glare head on as her knee came up swiftly between his legs. Draco immediately crumpled, his face contorting in pain, as he sank to the floor. Hermione gave him an extra push and stared down at him.
“How dare you put your hands on me, Malferret? Huh? How dare you come into this house seeking our care and protection, then treat us like servants? How dare you expect anything when you spent all last year trying to kill Dumbledore, the late head of the very Order you sought refuge from? Where I come from, hypocrites and bigots are abhorred, no matter what blood they carry.”
“You think I care?” Draco groaned, rolling to his feet.
“No, of course not. Your hate-crimes are just that. An emotion. Emotions aren’t rational, they don’t have to have any reasonable logic behind them, they just are. And it’s Voldemort’s hate for what he is, that led to you being here. Why your father is in Prison. Why he killed your mother. Why, in your eyes, your life is ruined because you had to take pity from some muggle-borns and other people you hate.”
Draco nailed her with a glare of contempt. “Are we going to sing songs and hold hands now, Granger?”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “I’ve simply had enough of your ungrateful, free-loading ways, you arse. Tell me, for all the wealth and prestige of the Malfoy line, where does that leave you?”
“Far better off then you,” Draco bit back. “For even if I am in hiding and at the mercy of muggle-loving fools, I’ll always be far better than you.”
“Oh, really?” Hermione stepped up to him.
Draco nodded vigorously. “Merde, yeah!”
Hermione laughed derisively. “Your standards on which you base yourself must be terribly low, Malfoy. What do they call cowards in your world? Because here they’d call it trying to pull off a most horrendous deed and then not even able to follow through with it, to save their own mother from certain death. That’s right, Draco. You killed your mother. While she was waiting in misery for you to carry out your little task, you failed and then ran off with Snape to save your own sorry hyde. So tell me,” she paused. “What makes a coward in your world because I am dying to figure out how you still see yourself as above all of us.”
Draco had paled when she mentioned his mother. She could see his jaw working as his lips trembled. She turned her head in disgust then, which was a mistake. Draco gripped her hair at the base of her neck and pulled her head back hard. Hermione’s mouth opened in pain.
“You…” he started out in a dangerously low tone. “You foul…loathsome…evil little bitch. Stay, the fuck,” he yanked hard on her hair then, making her gasp, “away from me. You filthy little whore.” Just as abruptly, he released her shoving her away from him and out the door. The door slammed in her face.
§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§
After he shoved her out the door, Draco went on a terrible rampage, throwing anything he could get his hands on. What gave her the right?! How dare she speak to him at all let alone such wrongfull things?! She was nothing but Potty and Weasel’s whore! A Mudblood not deserving to be taught magic!
After tirading about cheeky, upstart Mudbloods in his head a while, he finally calmed and sank against the wall, laughing. Perfect Head Gryffindor just gave it to him like a Slytherin. Like he didn’t know it was his fault his mother was dead. That she was probably tortured before she died, knowing her son was a failure and she would have to pay the price for it. Who needed Lucius when Mudblood Granger could remind him what a failure he was; and right when he felt he couldn’t feel any lower. Draco eyes narrowed then. But what right did the mudblood have to remind him of anything? None. She had no right. He didn’t ask for this. Snape told him it was this or watch his mother be tortured and killed before he met the same fate, and decided for him, before leaving him to make appearances for Voldemort. That was a month and a half ago. Since then, his days had been filled with hostile glares, silences, or avoiding his gaze, while the mother of the overwhelming amount of red-headed spawn continuously pushed food onto him. Draco swore she wished to make him as fat as she was, annoying cow. She always smelled of some sort of sugary substance like cinnamon or apples. His mother had always smelt of the finest cologne. However he’d noticed Mrs. Weasley reminded him of how stern his mother could be, yet with one large difference. There was a warmth missing in his mother that was prominent in Weasley’s. His mother never rose her voice and her manner was cool. Weasley was quick to temper and yelled all the time. Ronald, get your lazy arse out of bed right now! Fred, don’t curse in front of your sister! Ginerva, stop sulking or you can clean out the basement!
They took his wand, so he couldn’t even cast a sound-proofing spell around his room to block out the constant yelling. At Malfoy Manor, it was always quiet. Not even the house-elves cleaning made any noise. His father was always away on business and his mother was either shopping or out visitng friends. Which was why it was odd that he’d gotten used to the pounding floorboards outside his room so quick. He hardly noticed the sound anymore.
He did notice when the Golden Trio of Gits returned from somewhere, when they received their Hogwarts letters last week, when Granger found out she was Head Girl, whenever her and Romeo Weaslebee had a fight. Why Potter didn’t just hex them silent actually made sense to Draco since that would be the smart thing to do, and when had Potter ever been known to be the smart one of the lot.
Finally calm, Draco stood. Thinking derisively of the Golden Trio of Gits was always comforting. He’d spent years doing it, and it was the only outlet that provided any relief for his bottled up tension and aggression.
Though they took his wand and he was not able to retrieve any of his personal effects, the room they gave him was stocked with a large bookcase of mostly legit wizarding books, some muggle literature, and only a few Dark Art tomes. Considering the house’s history of Dark Wizards, Draco knew they probably missed those few tomes in preparing it for him to use. Don’t want encourage the young Death Eater in training to act out his wicked ways. Draco smirked, thinking this. But despite his wish to contradict their wishes, he found himself drawn to the muggle novels.
He tried reading The DaVinci Code at first but the entire thing was under the assumption that Jesus Christ wasn’t a Wizard and persecuted by Muggles. Or at least there was no mention of Muggles and Wizards and so he tried another. Ten minutes after picking up a paperback called Ender’s Game he was entranced. That was what he was reading before Granger was sent up by Satan to force him into gluttony once again. So he laid back with his book and let himself forget for a while.
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Next chap, we see Ron/Hermione and how it doesn't seem to be working. Plus, Draco goes to Diagon Alley with the Order crew.
NOTE: I'm sort of a newb at writing, since I haven't attempted it in years, so be kind.