IMPORTANT AN -
This fic can be considered as the rewrite of my first ever fic A Malfoy Always Gets What He Wants.Well, I'm considering it that way, because that was what I was thinking of when I wrote it, but it seems to have evolved! And I think you will agree my writing style has changed dramatically!!!
Special has the same basic plot, but as you will see from the opening paragraph there are a lot of changes and even a sub-plot. It's essentially Draco/Hermione with mentions of Dean/Lavender, Dean/Ginny, Lavender/Ron and Harry/Ginny.
The fic will be split into two or three part, depending on if the fic loses control of itself!
That's all for the moment people, enjoy the fic and leave me your views.
Oh, and thanks to my mate Jenny for doing a quick betaing job, so if there are any mistakes she's the one to blame. Only joking she did very well.
It was sweltering, which was quite understandable for mid-June weather. But when you're standing in a crowd full of energetic Gryffindor's who are jumping up and down and chanting (which sounded more like screaming, because you couldn't understand a word they where saying), waving around banners and scarves, blowing whistles that made sounds other than the whistle you would expect, leaping in and out of their seats which was more like a half-arsed attempted at a Mexican Wave, (not that anyone would have known of course, it was all done so randomly); it was all bound to start eating away at your equilibrium.
Hermione gritted her teeth and glared at nothing. She had had enough being hit on the back of the head with Dean's prized West Ham rattle. Once was an accident, twice could be forgiven, three times could be considered punishment.
It wasn't her fault Luna had decided to sit in the Gryffindor stands for the final Quidditch match of the year. So, because of the new seating arrangements Lavender was unable to be seated by her boyfriend, the owner of said rattle.
Lavender had specifically asked her to save her a seat next to Dean, which was beyond Hermione's comprehension. Wouldn't it have been easier to have asked Dean himself? It would have saved Hermione a lot of trouble by not having to follow the unimaginably tall boy around. She could have asked him on Lavender's behalf to save the seat, Dean wouldn't have minded the strange request because he was the sort of person that never let little thing's like that bother him. Unlike Hermione. But she couldn't.
Now you're probably thinking; why would it be so strange that Lavender had asked Hermione to save the seat for her?
That question is relatively simple to answer. Obviously Lavender, being the unpunctual girl that she was, was going to be running late for the match, having just gotten out of the shower as Hermione was leaving the dorm room to make her way down to the Quidditch pitch. And Lavender, being the vain and boy obsessed girl that she was, was going to need another hour to pick out her most revealing clothes that she owned and slut- cough, prettify herself. She didn't actually say that, Hermione just interpreted it that way.
So Lavender asked Hermione to save her a seat and stressed that it had to be next to her boyfriend, Dean Thomas. And Hermione, being the girl who likes to help those in need (even if they don't deserve her kindness) agreed. It was also partly because she had to live with the selfish girl.
Next you would be asking; why would it be strange for Hermione to ask Dean, after being asked by Lavender, to save the seat? This also would also be simple to answer, and complicated at the same time.
You see Lavender and Dean aren't actually 'together'. So of course Dean would find it strange. Secondly, since Dean's break up with Ginny the previous year, girls have been swarming to be the shoulder for Dean's tears or the distraction of his moroseness. If the prettiest girl in school found something of worth in him who wouldn't? But it was before all this that Lavender had discovered the potential Mr. Thomas had as a boyfriend. It was just too bad Ginny Weasley had found this out first. Lavender would not be beaten though, if she saw someone eyeing up her man she was going to do something about it, more specifically - extract revenge.
Over night Lavender had stewed and stewed in her jealousy until a plan had formed.
And Ron Weasley was the key.
She had used all her feminine wiles to catch the eye of the bumbling red head, which hadn't paid off at all until she had been bumped into and dropped her bag one day and bent over to pick it up - all done in the line of Ron's sight. And it was all done unconsciously. If it hadn't been for Draco Malfoy it never would have worked, because he was the one who had knock the bag off her shoulder in the first place.
So, now with Ron permanently attached to her side, and lips, all she needed was a little bit of manipulation and persuasion to get him to split up Dean and his sister. In the end it came to nought until Harry had decided he liked the girl after all and she still had feelings for him, and because Ron was no longer needed Lavender had left him.
Lavender was a bitch, I think you would all agree.
Hermione didn't know about the plan involving Ron, - obviously if she did she would be taking part in the little errand she had been asked of - but she did know that Lavender was psycho and would do anything in her power to get what she wanted, and for the past year she had wanted Dean. She may have dated other guys in that time but that didn't stop her from achieving her ultimate goal.
However that goal was getting farther and farther away as the school year was ending in just over a month and they would all be let out into the big wide world without the security of Hogwarts to protect them.
Anyways, we, or should I say I? seem to have gone way off the initial subject.
So, after being asked to reserve the seat, Hermione made her way through the castle (stopping in at the Great Hall to quickly grab a slice of toast, an apple and filled a small flask up with milk), past the green houses and along the edge of a small cluster of trees, she made it to the main gates of the stadium, as she munched on her toast, where already a group of avid Quidditch fans were making their way inside.
Dean was apart of them.
He found Quidditch just as fascinating as football, however, in Dean's opinion nothing could top the muggle sport and in Hermione's, it was a way of letting out all that testosterone that builds up in pubescent boy, and the fact that it was just not her cup of Horlicks. She always had the feeling she should have a cup before a match, as it would help her to sleep through the screaming and shouting and general excitement.
Hermione watched as the lanky, black boy walked through the enormous entry gate, then turn left and duck under the much smaller archway that lead under the Gryffindor stands, with his best friend Seamus Finnigan by his side.
She should have been following, nevertheless, she just had one more thing to do before she did Lavender's bidding.
Walking past the main gate, she wound her way around the pitch until she came to an average looking side-door and inconspicuously slipped inside.
The small room she had entered was just a few shades lighter than dark. She waited a moment for her eyes to adjust due to stepping in to a dim room after having the bright sun contract her irises. With her sight back to its normality she carefully wandered further inside.
The room itself was a store room, used both for old and out-of-date Quidditch paraphernalia such as brooms, ball boxes, uniforms, posters, flags and for equipment to maintain the stadium itself like gravel, compost, a lawn mower, grass seeds, planks of wood, nails, hammers etc… The place looked like it hadn't been used in years and the items inside even longer. Everything was either rusty and/or covered in dust.
Hermione heaved a large dry cough and sneezed as dust particles floated in the air around her from the disruption of the dusty blanket at her feet. She grabbed hold of the nearest thing to her, a broom, she sneezed again, and all the other brooms next to it fell with consecutive clanks like a row of dominos. Then she stubbed her toe as she righted herself. Overall, not a greta situation to be in.
Making it to the opposite end of the room without further disasters, she came upon another door that lead to a corridor. She walked down the right hand side until she came to yet another door. She opened it, stepped through, closed it behind her and leaned against it with a breathed a sigh of relief, happy to be in cleaner air. Well cleaner than the musk of stale dust.
"Took you long enough. I sent that owl over half an hour ago."
She rolled her eyes and replied, "Almost half an hour ago, almost."
"It doesn't really matter, you're here now. So did you bring the stuff?"
She looked up at the person she was talking to and saw them leaning against a tiled wall, arms crossed with the their hands tucked snugly under their armpits. It was a typical boy pose.
For quite a while it, would seem, as they had to repeat their question to her.
Hermione shook herself out of her stupor and snapped, "Of course I did otherwise I wouldn't be here." She handed over a small bag. "And don't say it like that, you make me sound like a drug dealer."
"I think someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."
"And I think someone should get their own breakfast in the morning instead of sending me last minute notice to get it for them, and making me sneak through dirty old store rooms to meet with them."
The boy smirked, "I never made you do anything. You could have turned my request down."
"Request?" she spluttered. "That was no request."
After taking a bite out of his delivered apple, via Hermione, and chewing and swallowing it, he replied with a confused look. "Why? What was wrong with it?"
"Oh I'll tell you what was wrong with it." Hermione stuck her hand in her shirt pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.
"You kept it? I'm touched, really."
"Shut up you. Now listen." She cleared her throat then read from the note, "'Meet me in the abandoned Quidditch showers. And bring me my breakfast woman, a man needs feeding before he goes out flying. Much obliged, DM.'" She refolded the paper and stuffed it back in her pocket. "If I didn't know you were such a git Malfoy, I would be mortally offended."
He smirked the smirk. "So instead you're just offended."
"Too right I am," she said .
"I don't see why," Draco took a swill of milk from the flask then continued, "there's a thank you in there somewhere."
"'Much obliged,' indeed. Only you could not only say it, but write it in such a patronising way."
"It may sound patronising Granger, but you know deep down inside that when I say it to you I actually mean it." He flashed a grin, "That's why you came."
Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. He says something nice, then just has to go and stick that all-knowing comment on the end and ruin a good thing. She hated that he knew her so well.
"Oh, don't go all huffy on me now."
"I am not, I've just got places to go, you know. People to stalk."
He raised a pale brow. "Stalk?"
"It doesn't matter," she waved him off and turned towards the door.
"But there's still twenty minutes until the match starts."
She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Like I said Malfoy-"
"Yes, yes. Places and stalking. But wouldn't you rather stay here with me?"
She smiled, said, "What? In this grotty old room? I think not," and walked through the door.
"You know you can stalk me anytime, Granger," shouted Draco.
"I'll keep that in mind," she called back. "When you're not spending your time in dirty showers."
Winding her way back through the corridor and store room she made it out into the blinding sunlight. She squinted, waited for her sight to come back, then entered the main gate of the stadium and followed the path Dean had taken earlier under the wooden archway. The match was to start in under half an hour, so the stands were much more crowed now and Hermione knew her chances of finding Dean with an unoccupied seat next to him were diminishing rapidly.
Hermione trudged up the maze of staircases, following and being followed by groups of Gryffindors. They were all chatting amicably, giving their views on the upcoming Quidditch match; who will win, opinions of the players, stats… The kinds of things Hermione had no interest in, even so, because she didn't care for what they were saying it just sounded like noise. She wondered vaguely if anyone who liked this devil of a sport could actually talk at a volume that didn't burst your ear drums. To her they weren't even having conversations with each other, they were just making noise.
She came to the top and saw the thick afro of Dean's head and made a beeline for him. It always made her feel slightly nauseous when standing in the highest stand, not only did your ears pop but she was afraid of heights. She was thankful he had chosen a seat in the centre of the box instead of the customary front row seat he would usually take.
When she came level with his row her heart dropped. Luna was already there and there was no hope on the other side because Seamus was on his right.
Well beggars can't be choosers.
She took the seat next to Luna and waited for the players to take to the skies.
Lavender had arrived ten minutes in, Hermione had no idea of the score, only the way she knew who was winning was by watching the people reactions around her, and by the way they were going wild she would say Gryffindor were winning. She had glared at her, pushed past a number of fans, took the only available seat - behind Luna - tapped Dean's shoulder, she smiled sweetly and spoke to him, he gave her his rattle and thus began the abuse and brings us back to a pissed off Hermione.
That's it. She was leaving.
She rose from the bench and turned to give Lavender her most evilest of eyes.
Abruptly the stand shook from the stomping of feet and Hermione's head split from the hissing and boos and the occasional shout of "FOUL!"
Slytherin had scored.
Hermione as quickly as possible escaped the new form of hell on earth, or old, depending on how you looked at it.
To be continued...