Credit any sensibility of this story to my two betas; one over at Perfect Imagination, Elyaeru and jadestrickover at Livejournal
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
Sorry ladies and gents, I edited it again. Direct any pissed of reviews or notes right back up your arse.
Pansy Parkinson was sitting in her History of Magic class twirling her blonde hair and pouting her cute pink lips. Her fashionable (and illicit) robes were hanging over the back of her chair. Ignoring Professor Binns, Pansy dreamed of her imaginary boyfriend Draco Malfoy and equally imaginary connection.
Pansy smirked and continued twirling her hair around her little finger, admiring her golden natural highlights that glinted in the dreary classroom. She looked back up at Draco, noticing his hair was the exact same shade as hers. They would be so perfect together.
Draco had been...odd lately. He had turned almost antisocial. Well, more antisocial than usual. He had also stopped dating. He stopped dating! He hadn't gone out with Pansy since last year, and had stopped dating altogether a few months ago.
Pansy had wasted many an hour trying to solve the mystery of Draco's sudden disinterest. She wondered if he might be engaged and was no longer allowed to date casually. The thought of Draco being engaged to anyone but her made Pansy bite her lip in frustration.
Draco looked around at Pansy and she took the opportunity to flash her perfectly proportioned breasts in his direction. Her hope turned to dismay when Draco rolled his eyes and laid his head down to sleep, not sending a second glance at her womanly parts.
Oh, he didn't even notice! He's lucky I can wear a bra. Unlike Sophie, Hannah, Taylor, Millicent, Granger…
Pansy quickly sent a look at the Mudblood to find that Hermione Granger was not violently taking notes, as was her style.
Or more Out-Of-Style. Hah, that was clever. My life would be so dull if I weren't so fantastic.
Pansy sent Granger another quick glance.
What is she doing? It looks like she's on drugs.
Hermione Granger did have a very eccentric look on her face, like she was the poster-child, "Mudbloods on Drugs." Granger was absorbed in the delicate strokes of her quill with intense concentration. Yet despite the severe absorption, she still looked…calm and very satisfied.
She reminded Pansy of her mother when she was in her garden planting roses and tulips…but never pansies. Mrs. Parkinson despised pansies.
Pansy quickly ripped her thoughts away from her mother and thought about Hermione Granger not taking notes; it was an almost impossible thought.
Hermione, who was now done with her mysterious note, placed the parchment in her book, shut it, and neatly laid her head on her desk. This didn't deter Pansy. She knew Granger had been arched over a piece of parchment that was not homework. Very well she didn't know but she was bored as hell. Anway, the parchment was being crushed into a book that was not Granger's History of Magic textbook!
I know that's not her History of Magic school book. It's grey, like mine. Her book is purple... purple looks really good on me. Wait…damn! She does wear a bra! Doesn't matter, Draco is as soon to notice Granger as he would Weasley. Oh look! She's falling asleep!
Indeed she was. Pansy watched as Hermione's eyelids lowered and finally shut.
Pansy realized her chance. How easy it would be to simply snatch it! What if the book was Granger's diary? Curiosity burned inside her like a flame as she went over the consequences of her planned actions. She wanted to know what Granger had been drawing instead of taking notes, she wanted to show all of her girlfriends that Granger didn't have anything better to write inside her journal than her homework assignments and how much she missed her mommy! But what if Granger woke up and caught her? What if one of her stupid friends saw her stealing it? Most important of all, how to take it in the first place?
Pansy looked around at toilet-pot and the weasel; both were as dead to the world as Granger.
It only took a moment to decide that she could steal Granger's book without being caught.
Pansy vaulted her desk to the right and slowly, oh so slowly, slid the book halfway out from underneath Granger's arm. Then Pansy realized the huge flaw in her plan.
If she pulled the book out from under Granger's arm, Granger's forehead would go crashing into the desk! Pansy looked down on her own desk. There was nothing for it; she would have to swap her own book with the mudblood's. Very nimbly, Pansy arched Hermione's purple book upward and slid her own History of Magic book right underneath while simultaneously sliding Granger's book out.
Pansy almost laughed aloud. She felt like some sort of great explorer. She was extremely proud of herself at having successfully stolen the Mudblood's book without said Mudblood, or her idiotic accessories, even noticing.
Also, if Granger moved left, she would go tumbling off the desk onto the floor!
Pansy was so ecstatic she almost forgot why she stole the book. She opened the book quickly, expecting to find sonnets to McGonagall and read the italicized front page.
Curses by Claudio Valimar
Pansy smirked. So this was what helped the Mudblood perform so many wicked curses.
Pansy forgot about the stupid title and turned the page, revealing the hidden parchment Hermione had been writing on. Oh, she'd be absolutely furious if she knew what I was doing!
Pansy Parkinson was giggling as she looked down on Granger's drawing which-she had to admit-was rather fine. Who'd have thought Granger thought of anything except getting Outstanding in all of her N.E.W.T.'s?
Both the drawing and the book were a treasure, the drawing because it was a delight to know one of Granger's secrets and the book because it was a joy to have so many curses at her disposal. Pansy flipped through the book and read about the most fantastic curses she had ever read. Her particular favorite was the curse that made somebody's clothes invisible to everyone but the wearer.
Pansy giggled at the thought of one of her enemies walking around naked all day and not knowing it!
When she got to chapter seven she found a curse that was perfect. The perfect way to not only reveal Granger's note to the whole world, but to get Draco out of his...situation. For it seemed to Pansy that Draco was in a depression of sorts. He needed a good laugh and Granger's naughty note spread all over the school was sure to do that. And if Pansy was the one to cause it he might just realize how perfect they were for each other.
Pansy smirked and set in to her task as Granger slept on, unknowing and unsuspecting the nightmare she was to receive the next day.
The first thing Hermione knew was that she was on the floor. She felt the hard, sticky floor against her back and heard that people were laughing at her.
Her ghostly professor hadn't even been disturbed from lecturing when Hermione hit the ground. Not even after Hermione had groaned and people had giggled at the humiliating display of their most boring peer. The professor's lecture continued in dead straight pattern.
Hermione left her state of shock and blushed deeply as she looked to her left and saw Pansy Parkinson, looking pleased and...devious?
Hermione was immediately on her guard; she knew that look. It was the look of a scheming Slytherin that was up to something. For behind Pansy's amused expression was something sinister and Hermione, though she and Pansy had gotten into a lot of spats, couldn't think of anything she could have done to the girl to make Pansy look at her as she just had.
Hermione then looked directly behind Pansy and met the eyes of Draco Malfoy (who had awoken sharply at the sound of the girl falling to the sticky ground). He stared at her a long time – or so it felt like.
His eyes, it seemed, could have burned an opening through her robes by now. He really scared her sometimes when he got into one of his moods where everyone's life was game. Her opinion of Malfoy would always be the same, and nobody could change that, especially not him.
As the bell rang to signify the end of the lesson Hermione pushed herself off the floor, grabbed her book, anxious to get out of the classroom, and led Harry and Ron like sheep into the Great Hall for dinner.
She was worried about Pansy, though she refused to share her fears with Harry and Ron, who probably would have made idiots out of themselves trying to help her though their hearts were in the right place. She turned and looked at Ron who was complaining about Binns. Harry was nodding, bored. Yes, Pansy was her problem.
What if she's plotting against my grades? I can't count the number of times her and her friends have tried to embarrass me or get me in trouble. But I suppose she could do some serious damage if she put her mind to it. She could get Snape to do anything she wanted... Should I be worrying about my Potions grade?
These thoughts, along with many others about Pansy, drifted through Hermione's head until she finally gave up and pushed them to the back of her mind. Ron spooned some baby potatoes onto her plate as Harry coupled it with carrots and mashed potato. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she was quite hungry. All thoughts disappeared into the mountain of potato as she greedily rushed in to enjoy a peaceful dinner with Harry and Ron.
The next day Hermione knew something was wrong. She could just taste it: the disquiet of the day. She always hated going to classes on days like these, days she knew something bad was going to happen. She figured it was just psychological. She expected a bad day, so she had one.
Like four-leaf clovers, Hermione thought they were such superstitious tosh. People only expected themselves to be lucky so they go through the rest of the day calling every good thing that happens to them luck. Nonetheless, nothing would stop the fact that she was going to have a bad day. She even contemplated staying in bed.
Oh, how lucky she didn't.
Groaning, Hermione flipped herself off her bed and went to prepare herself for the day. She left her roommates who were trying to open their eyes at her form heading towards the bathroom. When Hermione woke, they woke. It was her responsibility to get them up in the morning.
But that didn't mean Parvati and Lavender didn't take care of Hermione from time to time. For example, they showed extreme care and consideration - after they had awoken rather groggily – when they heard Hermione's bloodcurdling screech from the bathroom. Both girls shot up and rushed to the door and would have barged in the toilet if the door had not, luckily, been locked.
Hermione was absolutely dumbfounded. She could see it on the mirror. It. IT! How…how did it get there?
It was identical to the very words and pictures she had drawn the other day, but it was on her mirror in pink shaving cream, slightly covering her hysterical stare. She looked at her face in shock: pale skin, wide open brown eyes, crazy curly hair, full lips and a saddle of freckles over her petite nose.
She had drawn that the other day before she fell asleep, and before she had fallen off of her desk. Before she saw the look on Pansy's face…NO!
"Hermione!" screeched Parvati, obviously sacred out of her wits. "Are you all right?"
"Fine!" Hermione said back with a moan, trying to sound calm.
"I am fine," she said quietly, trying to convince herself. She was once again glad the door was locked. She certainly didn't look fine. Her face was stark white and she was in a daze.
Trying to snap herself out of shock, Hermione hurriedly grabbed the red towel and wiped the pink cream off the mirror. If Parvati and Lavender saw it, they would think she had written it. The fact that she had written it escaped her conscience. Her secret being spread around the mirror and all the mirrors and walls of Hogwarts made her want to burst into tears. Hermione blushed at the shame if Ron or Harry saw it. What if Malfoy saw it? Her blush took on a darker shade.
After wiping down the betraying words from the mirror, she rushed out of the bathroom and went straight for her schoolbag and started digging through it like a madwoman. Strangely enough her bedfellows didn't think this strange at all; it was actually quite the norm for the girl to do just that. The memory of Hermione rummaging through her bag because she had believed she spelt a word incorrectly on an essay about Flobberworms was still fresh in their minds. As such, they paid no mind to Hermione's panicked expression and went about their own businesses. They didn't even notice when Hermione pulled two ugly grey books out of her bag.
Hermione almost cried. Her fears were confirmed: Parkinson had her book, and consequently had the parchment. In an attempt to distract herself she hastily flipped through the pages of Pansy's copy of A History of Magic and found all sorts of frivolous notes from Pansy's various boyfriends, friends, and poorly written poems about Draco Malfoy and his hair than Hermione could begin to count.
Oh Draco, my one and only love
You give me wings of a dove
Know I am there for you all the time
That is why I wrote this rhyme
Oh as sweet as honey!
Oh softer than a bunny
Draco, Draco please be mine
Draco, Draco, time after time
Draco, Draco, …time after time
Hermione snorted at the last line realizing that reading the poems might actually slow her neural activity.
She knew what would happen if she stayed in bed, and she knew what would happen if she went along her normal routine. She knew this because she knew which curse it was. It was the Ostendo Mundus et unus, which meant her secret writings that were supposed to be a bloody secret were going to be written on every flat surface that didn't move!
Hermione couldn't let this happen. If any of the Slytherins, especially Malfoy, saw this they would hate her forever. That was what the curse did. It wouldn't stop until either the day ended or Malfoy saw it…and he couldn't see it.
She wouldn't go down without a fight. She knew it was next to impossible to get rid of every object that her secret words would be written on seeing as they would pop up at random times in random places. She just had to tail Malfoy, and destroy the evidence as it popped up around him. Yes, her plan would work. It had to work.
"Granger, I appreciate the attention," Draco Malfoy said in a mocking tone. "But would you mind stalking me at a slower pace? I'm starting to get self-conscious." He quickly stopped in his steps and sent Hermione a dirty look.
"If you didn't notice Malfoy," said Hermione. "We have the exact same schedule, so don't go on. I hate being around you - most people do."
She spared him a little half-smirk and slowed down, checking all the walls of the corridor they were currently walking down. Following him and keeping an eye on all flat surfaces turned out to be more challenging than Hermione thought it would, what with him walking so damned fast and her trying to keep her eye out looking for it, and having to fend off his insults and nasty suggestions.
Hermione had just looked up and there it was, written on a banner hanging from the left side of the corridor. Blasphemous little…
Hermione instantly broke into a run, yanking the banner down and shoved it into a rubbish bin nearby. Passing people stared, but as for Malfoy she had been lucky. He was too busy trying to look smug and impressive. He turned and saw her holding on to the enormous banner.
"Going a bit mad, Granger?" he asked haughtily.
"That banner is a month old, Malfoy," she lied. "Really, if you want to make Head Boy next year, I suggest you start paying a little bit more attention to your surroundings."
He didn't seem to mind the slight.
"Yes, but I have noticed how close you are following me. Really, Granger, you might as well climb up onto my shoulders," he said suggestively. "Now wouldn't that be fun?"
"Sure," Hermione said as she felt shivers shoot up her back. "If you think it'll get us to class any faster."
I could really get used to this.
Draco Malfoy smirked. He really didn't mind Granger following him, arguing with her was one of his favorite pastimes. He'd even pay her to argue with him – sort of like a court jester - but he knew when she left Hogwarts she would probably want to crusade for her Elf Liberation rubbish. He snorted. She would probably progress more as his jester than she ever would with S.P.U.G or whatever it was she rambled about. She would certainly make more money.
Despite the fact that she usually a little off, Draco noticed today she was being stranger than usual. Running ahead of him, following him, waving her wand, muttering under her breath…it was unnatural.
Suddenly stopping, Draco felt her crash pathetically into his back. He turned around, and saw her on the floor rubbing her back with a grimace on her face.
He chuckled and offered his hand to help her up. She looked up at him suspiciously but took it nonetheless. The moment their fingers touched Draco felt a shock to his system. Granger had felt it too by the momentary look of surprise that covered her face. Draco decided to pretend it never happened and pulled her up.
He looked down on her. He realized he had pulled her much too close when he was helping her up.
"Oh Christ, Granger," Draco drawled looking down on her, trying to level the moment. "You're bloody in love with me!"
As her face turned to shock, embarrassment then anger Draco started to chuckle. When she realized that he had been making fun of her his chuckle turned to all out laughter. She was so much fun.
"Malfoy, I hate you. The day I fall for you is the day Snape slow dances with Hagrid!"
If she intended him to be offended she was wrong. All he did was laugh harder at the image of the two professors waltzing. His humor died and he seemed to become more serious.
"Now, really," he said sharply. "What's going on then, Granger? You hate being around me and I, you. Why are you following me?"
Hermione had had as much of his mood swings as she could stand. She was about to tell him so when his mouth tightened. Malfoy meant it this time and wanted an answer. She saw his stormy eyes get darker as she refused to answer.
"Malfoy, honestly, you're so thick. I'm not following you," she said with a shaky laugh. Then she noticed it was being carved into a candlestick nearby. A candlestick?! She raced towards the candlestick, grabbed it, and stuffed it in her bag which had caught fire.
Meanwhile Malfoy was caught between trying not to get angry and admiring her backside. When he turned his eyes away from her rear he realized that she was walking away from him and his anger won out over his admiration. He chased after her. Nobody walked away from him; it was almost a law at Hogwarts.
Don't panic. Your schoolbag is just on fire. That could happen any time.
Despite her internal pep-talk, she was doing the opposite of what she wanted: panicking. Hermione shakily removed her wand from her pocket and sprayed water on her bag. Too much water, in fact. Hermione almost screamed when she saw ink dripping out of the corner of her soaked schoolbag. She had probably broken one of her ink bottles in her hurry to get the candlestick.
Oh bother. It's probably spread all over my essays and I will have to look up a spell to take off one layer of ink! Damn Parkinson! This is all her fault!
Hermione had felt irritation when she saw the ink leaking out of her bag, but that was nothing compared to the terror she felt when she saw it burned into her bag from the fire.
Hermione assessed whether she should rip the patch out of her bag in a nice square or splash her bag through the ink on the floor until she felt Draco's ice cold hand clamp around her right elbow. He spun her around and glared down at her. She had completely forgotten he was even present.
"Never walk away from me!" he roared, looking like some avenging angel.
Irritation, disgust, and anger sprang up in Hermione like a well. She hated men like this.
"Who are you to tell me where to walk and what to do?" she screeched with heightened tone. "I can walk away from you whenever I bloody well feel like it!"
Malfoy stepped forward and grabbed her wrists that had been gesturing to the skies in indignation and said suspiciously, "What are you up to, Granger?"
Hermione had forgotten how tall he was. She also noted that his temper had not improved a jot since last year.
"At first I just thought it was something stupid," he said. "But now I'm starting to think that you and your friends are up to something again!"
"Well, it's not," she said with her nose in the air, yanking her tingling arm out of his grasp. "There's nothing to tell."
He didn't believe her. She never was that good of a liar.
"You're a prick," she spat. At least that was true.
"You're a wench!"
"I'm leaving!" screeched Hermione
He reciprocated, "So am I!"
Oh no, she thought, there will be no more ferret on the menu. "Not in the same direction I'm leaving."
"Well, genius, my next class happens to be with you, so I have to go with you."
"Fine. Don't fall behind, ferret!"
"Fine!" He smirked as if he'd won. "We'll leave together, beaver!"
Hermione thought the argument would have had much more impact had they both not stormed off in the exact same direction of the Transfiguration room. However, after a few minutes, Hermione started flat out running. Draco, of course, didn't know she was running to try and eradicate it which had spelled itself out in the ink she had spilled out of her bag. She watched as the ink sluggishly made its way down the hall. She upped her pace. Malfoy also sped up and began chasing her.
That idiot, she thought, he is either going to see it or tackle me to the ground. Wait…
That was it!
She started to slow as they got closer to the ink. Malfoy ran straight into her, making them both slide through the ink, getting it everywhere. Though it was a pain to be sodden with black ink, Hermione rejoiced that the message was destroyed.
So there they sat, with Hermione face down in the ink and Draco on top of her.
"Malfoy," she said, a bubble of ink manifesting from her mouth. "Will you let me up?"
"Oh, right," he said, flipping her around. "Sor-"
He burst out laughing when he saw Hermione's face covered with ink. He realized with a touch of sadness that he hadn't laughed this hard in ages. Sure, he had a good chuckle every day, but this was clutch-your-sides laughter, and that was priceless.
Despite how angry Hermione was that he was laughing at her, her lips quirked up just the slightest bit. Malfoy's laugh was contagious and right now it was almost…friendly. She was confused; he switched moods more than he did underwear. She pulled the only clean part of her button-up and wiped the areas around her eyes and nose.
One moment he was arrogant and the next he was angry, and now…now he was laughing with her. How far would his current friendliness take him, she wondered? How long until he got angry and ruined everything? Hermione was just brave enough to find out.
"Wait, what are you doing?" he said, his amused grin still a shadow on his face, but confusion and panic was overtaking the whole. Hermione moved her ink-soaked face closer to his.
"Don't you dare," he said, realizing her intention.
Instead of heeding his warning, she came closer, a mischievous grin on her face that seemed to shine through all the oily black. Actually, she looked rather adorable and comical. Most of the ink was wiped off her nose and eyes making her look like a deranged panda. Malfoy flopped his robes off and used his shirtsleeves to wipe the rest of the ink off her face. There was no helping her hair. Of course, there never was.
"None left now, Granger" he said snottily, "except in your hair. Is that what you used to tame your mane in fourth year? Invisible ink?"
She glared at him and then paused. Damned unstoppable brain.
She pulled her hair forward and started squeezing the ink out all over his expensive boots and flipping it around until her face was soaked. Again she moved forward, but he got the feeling that she wasn't trying to scare him anymore. How could she? There was little to no ink left except strange swipe-like smudges on her cheeks and her lips.
He had a feeling of…What? Was it admiration?
Well, not completely foreign. He remembered it from when she slapped him in third year.
How long ago that seemed.
Hermione had black ink dripping from her long eyelashes that surrounded her eyes. Her black lips were smiling. Why was that beautiful? She was getting closer. His stomach felt funny. Mafloy realized just how much he actually did want to kiss her. The war was over. His father was dead and his mother just wanted to move on. Why not?
Malfoy suddenly stepped closer to her.
"Whoa!" she thought.
He could see the panic on her face but he didn't care.
"Malfoy," she said, panicking. "I was just joking. I-"
He responded by taking another step closer to her. He placed his hand on her hip and ran it all the way up the side of her stomach, leaving long black ink marks all the way up her side until he reached her neck. He slid his left hand around her waist and pulled her the rest of the way until she was flushed against him. He kissed her.
He thought she would be the one surprised at the kiss! Shocking tingles went up and down his back and the only thought he could get through his head was, "Granger does something as strict as buy flavored ink?" The room heated up when she kissed him back. He thought he might fall over forwards, or die of heat stroke, or he might kiss her forever…
"No!" She pulled away from him and, in her haste to get away, almost slipped on the ink again.
Hermione picked up her bag and hurriedly walked away. Malfoy followed, realizing that he didn't really care that she had just walked away from him.
That was so stupid. I should have just walked away instead of goading him on.
Such were the thoughts that plagued Hermione Granger as she walked to her Transfiguration class trailing ink in her wake.
Draco Malfoy was trailing her too. She knew he had the same class schedule as her, but that didn't mean she couldn't feel uncomfortable at him following her.
She almost laughed out loud when she realized that their places had been exchanged. Now he was following her.
Hermione was quickly drawn from her thoughts as she heard everybody gasp. She had just walked into McGonagall's class and realized that she and Malfoy were still plastered in ink, which probably looked rather suspicious. Oh bother, she even had a huge man-sized hand-print on her neck from when he grabbed her and kissed her.
Hermione groaned as she realized she couldn't just Scourgify this and continue on with the lesson. This was magic ink.
After recovering from her mild confusion, McGonagall jumped into the scolding. "Miss Granger, explain this moment why you and Mr. Malfoy are covered in ink?"
Hermione blanked. "We…ah, well you see, we-"
"-were walking," Malfoy cut in. He could lie for them, because he was right: she was a horrible liar. "Peeves sprayed us with ink."
"Even still, what made you think that I would want you in my class like this?"
Whereas Hermione would have completely blanked, Draco smirked and answered, "I wanted to go shower, but Granger almost wet herself at the thought of her - or I, for that matter - being late for class, let alone skiving off."
OK, next time I do the talking, she thought as she sent him a look that could kill.
"Very well," McGonagall stated primly. "Go clean yourselves up." With a disapproving look on her face, she dismissed them, turning around to begin her lesson. Hermione glanced at the blackboard. They were going to be Transfiguring the legs of furniture to walk on their own. Damn!
Hermione and Draco left the room, passing through the Great Hall. Hermione looked up towards the ceiling, and shot her head down instantly. The enchanted ceiling was spelling it out in the clouds! She hoped Malfoy wouldn't look up.
As they walked Hermione realized something mortifying: she couldn't let him go into the bathroom alone or he would see it.
She watched as he veered right into the Prefects' bathroom, and there it was.
There, on the Do Not Disturb sign, where the letters spelling out Do Not Disturb should have been, was IT! Like it was taunting her, warning her that if he went in alone, he would see it.
She took action immediately after that thought, and veered left.
"I get this bathroom, Malfoy," Hermione said, just as Draco stepped closer to her with a vicious look on his handsome face. Seeing this, Hermione used his body positioning as she faced him, putting her hands behind her back, and quietly removing the very disturbing Do Not Disturb sign. She sneakily placed it up the back of her shirt.
"Granger," he said, "I don't know what the bloody hell your problem is today, but you better do one of two things: tell me, or get out of my way."
Hermione figuratively felt backed into a corner with an impossible ultimatum. If she got out of his way he would see it in the bathroom, and if she told him that she was trying to stop him from seeing it, she might as well have let him see it in the bathroom just to save the awkward conversation. Sweat broke across her face and mingled with the ink. Her hands began shaking.
Wait, I don't have to put up with this. I'm Head Girl! I can use the bloody Prefects' bathroom if I want to!
And she told him just that.
"You'll just have to go up to the next floor, Malfoy."
After which she hurriedly did a very swift turn and slammed the door promptly in Draco's growling face.
The rest of the day Hermione tailed Draco.
After his shower, Draco was confused and annoyed at Hermione. She quickly caught on to him and started following him closely back to Transfiguration.
She was his partner in Transfiguration, and did strange things now and then. She erased the desk, ripped up one of her essays in a rage and, at one point, even erased the whole chalkboard when McGonagall's back was turned.
Draco soon learned that he had this behavior to look forward to for the rest of the day: pulling down wall hangings, knocking over potions on purpose, and even petting the Grindylow in Lupin's office. At first he took extreme pleasure in taunting her, and telling her to 'admit she was losing her mind,' but by the end of the day she had acted so strange that she landed both of them detention. Needless to say, he was suspicious and irritated.
However, his irritation was nothing compared to how she felt.
Everywhere she turned it was there taunting her. So far it had been on five banners, her Potions essay, McGonagall's chalkboard, one of Snape's bubbling cauldrons, and even spelled out with the rocks in Lupin's Grindyglow tank. It was a miracle Draco hadn't even noticed it.
By far, the saddest display was when it became etched into a stone on the fourth floor corridor. Well, what else could she do? Hermione quickly blew the stone up to smithereens in a hall full of students. She and Draco both received detention.
Why, with all of the stupid and unfortunate things that could ever happen to her did they have to be doing lines for detention?
Hermione snuck a quick glance at Draco's parchment. At least his still said their required line, thank Merlin. Where hers was supposed to say: 'Fighting in the halls and destroying school property is wrong,' the line on her paper had reformed itself into IT!
The being from above must have been laughing at her. She herself was almost on the verge of breaking into hysterical, maniacal laughter as she watched herself write lines that didn't say what she intended, but rather, transformed into it.
'Fighting in the halls and destroying school property is wrong. Fighting in the halls and destroying school property is wrong. Fighting in the halls and destroying school property is wrong. Fighting in the halls and destroying school property is wrong. Fighting in the halls and destroying school property is wrong. Fighting in the halls and destroying school property is wrong. Fighting in the halls and destroying school property is wrong' It, It, It, It, It, It, It, It, It, It, It, It, It, It, It, It, It, It, It, It, It,
It, It, It, It, It, It, It,
It, It, It, It, It, It, It,
It, It, It, It, It, It, It,
It, It, It, It, It, It, It,
It, It, It, It, It, It, It,
It, It, It, It, It, It, It,…
She was sure that if she wasn't crazy before, she would be now.
"That will be enough. Come here."
Hermione waited and Malfoy took the hint to get up first and show the vile professor his parchment.
"Good," Snape said looking at Malfoy sternly has he handed him back his paper. "I trust this won't happen again, Draco?"
Malfoy nodded as Hermione walked up to the front of the classroom and handed Snape her lines. He didn't notice it at first as he was shuffling his papers.
Draco had turned around. He couldn't see her paper but he was still interested in watching Snape bully her. She always responded like a trapped Blast-Ended Skrewt.
Hermione watched with extreme anxiety and amusement as Snape pulled her essay forward and found it. Snape looked confused for a moment, and then turned extremely white.
If only he had shuffled his papers a bit longer. Malfoy would have left the room by then.
Snape looked like he could spit nails and Hermione knew what he must be thinking. That she had been writing IT for sheer cheek.
Though Hermione was very aware Malfoy was still in the room, she decided to do something very brave indeed. Hermione, instead of shrinking at the look on Snape's face as she should have, walked boldly up to Snape's desk and wrote, 'I am under a curse' on a random piece of parchment.
Snape looked completely befuddled and even angrier. It was almost worth having the curse set on her just to have seen his face. Usually only Harry could make him this angry.
Snape's expression of confusion and anger quickly turned to shock as they both watched the sentence, 'I am under a curse' form itself into IT. Realization washed over Snape's face as he came to the conclusion that Granger hadn't been trying to anger him after all. Of course he knew which curse it was, and that Granger herself had wrote it. He looked up at her and smirked. Hermione could have hit him.
"For this I will give you an extra week's detention instead of an extra month," Snape said, seeming to be on the verge of laughing. "You are very lucky indeed that I am more lenient than other teachers. You may go."
As she started turning Snape stopped her, "Oh and Granger?"
She turned back to him with a black look.
He smirked and handed her, her essay, "for posterity"
She snatched the paper from him, stuffed it in her bag hastily, and stormed out in a fury. Draco looked up to his godfather with a questioning look only to see Snape wink and gesture to follow the enraged head girl.
Draco looked confused, but left nonetheless to find Granger taking deep breaths, obviously trying to calm herself. Hermione turned when she heard the snap of the office door closing to find Malfoy lounging against Snape's door.
She looked at him expecting the worse, and her expectations proved valid.
"Let me see your essay."
"No," she replied defiantly and began to walk away from him.
"Granger, let me see it."
"No. It's mine and I would share it with you if I wanted to."
"Damn, Hermione! Let me see it or I'll rip your bag apart."
Hermione flinched when he said her name and decided to think on it later. She had more important things to worry about right now, like panicking. If he saw it he would think her obsessed. He wouldn't even realize the curse was on her. He would think that she was writing it over and over again on an essay because she was obsessed and crazy. He would go tell everyone and they would believe him.
"Fuck off" she said stubbornly.
He looked shocked for a moment but soon stomped towards her. His long hand shot out to grab the bag that was looped across her back diagonally, pulling her closer to him until they were breathing into each other's faces. He looked absolutely furious.
"Ow!" she flinched. Malfoy raised his eyebrow and quickly his eyes widened in shock. He had pulled the bag so roughly one of her Gryffindor pins had scratched the back of her neck deep enough to draw blood.
She was exhausted. Maybe she should have just stayed in bed. Why did things like this happen to her? The pain from the cut and her horrible day, no, her horrible year descended on her in a rush of tears.
Draco looked down at her upturned face. Apparently someone had told Hermione that he could not bear the sight of womens' tears, his Achilles' heel. As her brown eyes watered, she looked the most pathetic thing he had ever seen. He realized his weakness when it came to this girl; he hated making her cry.
"Whatever, Granger," he said eventually, and then walked into the Great Hall, followed quickly by Hermione who was extremely surprised and affected that he had listened to her when she had least expected it.
Hermione had trained her eyes over to the Slytherin table all through the meal, watching for the reappearance of IT. This was hard, because he sat there, Draco Malfoy.
She couldn't get the look on his face as he watched her cry out of her mind. She had never seen him look so...kind.
Hermione realized she was staring at Draco and stopped, turning her face down to stare at her food. As she shifted her gaze to her food, she became very disturbed by what was in her own bowl of alphabet soup: IT! It was everywhere! There was no escaping from it. She mixed the soup with her spoon but it only went back to its original state of displaying her horrid secret.
No! But deep inside she knew her the secret was over. He was going to find out. This was it, after all that had happened. She felt a nasty feeling in her gut and looked back over to the Slytherin table where he was sitting and saw…
A knife floating in mid-air!
Everyone else saw it as well for the hall got extremely quiet as the knife continued to carve her own words right in front of where Draco Malfoy was sitting. But hadn't she said she wouldn't go down without a fight?
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Hermione got up and ran across the hall over to where Malfoy was sitting. She knew she was fighting a losing battle, but at least she was fighting. She knocked the knife aside and firmly placed her shaking palms over the message that was scraped onto the space especially reserved for Mr. Draco Malfoy.
Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle all looked at her like she was crazy. Maybe she was. Pansy just smirked annoyingly. Draco took one look at her hands and then looked into her eyes and she watched realization spread on Malfoy's face. He knew she had been hiding something from him all day.
There was ever only one thing Hermione could say about that moment. It felt like it lasted forever, just her and Draco's eyes locked on each other, and though about five hundred students and thirteen teachers were watching them, it felt like they were alone, alone for an eternity that ended way too soon.
It wasn't hard for Draco, as he was so much stronger than her, to force her hands to slide to the left. Her hands made an odd squeaking sound, showing how hard she was trying to keep her hands over the mark. Everybody on the Slytherin table heard and flinched the sound except for Hermioen and Draco.
It was revealed.
As Draco examined IT, dawning realization graced his face, then contemplation, soon followed by nothing. He was wearing his famous street face, his poker face. He looked up at Hermione. She had no way of knowing what she looked like. She was frozen. She didn't even feel scared, because she was in a mild state of shock.
One of Draco's eyebrows tilted up sexily. He smirked at her and winked. To say Hermione was a bit shocked would be an understatement. She was aghast at the nonverbal message Malfoy had sent her. She watched as he rose from his seat and jerked his head for her to follow.
They left the table, and from that day on were rarely seen out of each other's company.
A bewildered Blaise Zabini bent over and looked at the words scraped in the wooden table. The words that remained carved the Slytherin table for all eternity, until time faded out and ceased to matter. The words that had magic little stars and Snitches suspended around it.
If you want to see the commercial that inspired this story go to Youtube and search JC Penny – Doodle Heart
There has been, as of late, some unhappiness with my changing this story I only have one answer to give these reviewers I love (never mistake that):
Pierre Bonnard would enter
the museum with a tube of paint
in his pocket, and a sable brush.
Then, violating the sanctity
of one of his own frames,
he'd add a stroke of vermilion
to the skin of a flower.
Just so I stopped you
at the door this morning
and, licking my index finger, removed
an invisible crumb
from your vermilion mouth. As if,
at the ritual moment of departure,
I had to show you still belonged to me.
As if revision were
the purest form of love.