Author's Note: The lyrics in this story's introduction are not prejudicial, but are cynical lyrics against racism, hence: 'Just fucking jump.' The song is by the band Hole, and is called "Nigger of Your Dreams." If anyone at all thinks I'm prejudice, here's my profile: I'm part Latino, part Caucasian, my sister is half Black, and numerous relatives on my father's side(my Latin side) are mixed with an influx of cultures in an even larger respect. Not to mention that I'm gay. I simply would like to make it perfectly clear that every foul word enclosed (even 'MudBlood" for that matter) are being used in the context of scorn towards ignorance.
I found 'Nigger of your Dreams' very inspiring, but I've been writing my own young adult novel, and consequently I've not had time to write Harry Potter fan fiction. I found my Shoebox Project PDFS the other day, and I begun remembering how much my writing grew from the age of fifteen (when I started Boys on the Radio) to eighteen, to its present form of development, now publishable. But fan fiction helped my creative engine expand itself greatly, improving my language skills to excellent articulation, granting the privilege of the objective (mostly) reviews from numerous readers, which guided me. So with this short story which I hereby present, I am paying homage to the Harry Potter fandom world, thanks to the song's inspiration and the Shoebox discovery in my move. If anyone wants to listen to the song, note that there was no commercial release; it can be found here in the site's sound section for free. This could be labeled as Draco/Hermione, but I really wouldn't call this romance.
"Mudblood of Your Dreams: Part One"
'In the Bible, angel wing,
just because I know I will ...
I'm the nigger of your dreams;
you're the nigger, You will never see.
I'm the nigger that you know!
I'm your nigger, tell me so!
You're a nigger, I'm one too!
Just fucking jump.' - "Nigger of Your Dreams", Hole
"I'd watch out if I were you, Granger. You too, Weasel, you and your whole family of blood-traitors!"
Draco Malfoy stared Hermione Granger right in the eye, taking the time to harass Harry Potter and his friends in their compartment. Luckily, Draco had been made a prefect, so his authority eliminated any chance of getting into trouble, naturally. It was his fifth year, and most people didn't pay mind to Potter's outrageous allegations, but unfortunately Draco was totally right: The Dark Lord had returned the night Cedric Diggory had lost his life, the night of the third task, and had Harry Potter not been privileged with "supernatural luck" (as his father, Lucius Malfoy, had described it) he would have been annihilated once and for all. And so he was happy to taunt Granger now, because it couldn't be any truer; the Mudbloods, the Dark Lord's greatest distaste, were to be obliterated. "You'll be first, Granger, just have the Weasel there tell you how much the Dark Lord loathes your filthy, unworthy kind. The pathetic Weasleys will know all about the greatness of the Dark Lord."
"Malfoy, you fucking asshole, don't you ever talk to her like that -" Ron indignantly screamed in retort, and though usually Harry would tell Ron to let it go, this time he, too, had risen out of his seat enraged while Hermione alone remained seated, fearful for her brave friends' safety.
"Don't bother, he's not worth it," Hermione warned, looking up at Harry and Ron pleadingly. They looked livid that she was trying to stop them, though they knew she had always done so.
"Haha, you should be scared of me, Granger, my father's on his right hand side." Though Malfoy had always been one to redundantly romanticize his father, this was doubtless to them. Malfoy smiled gleefully at their somewhat petrified looks that they couldn't hide completely, which satisfied him enough; he turned around and left at that. He proceeded back to his compartment with his fellow Slytherin fifth years who were waiting to hear how he had taunted Potter (given that most of their parents were also involved with the Dark Lord in some way, too) about what had happened to him. Those who actually did believe Harry's story (which wasn't a lot since the Ministry had been overseeing The Daily Prophet with threats to any reporter who commended Harry in any such way) were terrified, naturally, but to Draco it was all humorous. Bloody hell, he heard there was to be a memorial service for Cedric Diggory, but what everyone was oblivious to was how insignificant he had been; nothing more than a pawn, an ant to squash, just a meaningless human the Dark Lord sacrificed apathetically. It was examples of his greatness like this that made Draco anticipate this coming June, the day he was to become a Death Eater, so very impatiently. It was great to be the best pure-blood family, a Malfoy….
"Cedric! Cedric!" Harry yelled, disbelieving what he knew the Killing Curse had just done. Cedric lie immobile next to one of the many tombstones in the dark graveyard night. Frantically Harry searched around, but all he saw in every corner of his eyes were the multitude of tombstones that haunted his mind every surpassing second, feeling certain he was next …
And then a cruel, terrible laugh, the laugh that had polluted his dreams mysteriously since he was a child. It was him – Voldemort. He was walking towards him, completely masked in the darkness by a cloak and its hood. He was perhaps a hundred feet away, coming towards him directly between the tombstones. His wand was pointed directly at Harry as though mirthfully arrogant that there would be no defense from Harry. But Harry wasn't undignified; he searched quickly for his wand in his pockets … but it was gone! How? How?
Harry looked up: the tyrannical face of Voldemort, indescribably horrid in its inhumane snake-like resemblance, was just a few feet away from him, and his wand was a centimeter from touching the center of Harry's chest. Harry fell into an excruciating abyss in the moment before what would be his death, waiting for Voldemort to mutter the curse in a millisecond …. His laugh got louder and louder as Harry effortlessly tried to push the wand away ….
Harry woke up in his four-poster bed in Gryffindor tower, startled and terrified by yet another of the many dreams that had left so many nights almost entirely sleepless, but despite the rest this one was one of the first. Cedric's dead face had looked so vividly detailed this time, maybe even worse than how it had actually been. He just wished he could sleep peacefully again for one night, to remember what it feels like. It's not like he had ever had a typical teenager's life, but it was pretty damn fair to state that even the strongest people couldn't deal with such a predicament: It was he, Harry, versus the Dark Lord, Voldemort, the most powerful evil wizard in recent times. But whether it was fair or not, sustainable or not, it was what was before him no matter what. Fortunately for him, he did have one untouchable, insurmountable asset: Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard to have ever lived. Harry had dreaded that he'd act secretively (so used to him working under his own unknown agendas), but instead Dumbledore had actually summoned Harry to his office immediately following the start-of-term feast, which in itself had been mysterious and questionable.
For one, the Defense Against the Dark Arts replacement was, unbelievably so, the actual Alastor Moody, who had explained his choice as "a return to fulfill what I had intended to do a year ago, to complete my obligations to Professor Dumbledore, even if he insists it is not imperative by any means"; this was verbatim in his speech; despite the torture he had endured from his now worse-than-dead imposter, who he made no mention of, almost as though he hadn't made it because of some sporadic illness. Secondly, even more shocking was that Severus Snape, the Potions Master and one of Harry's least favorite people, had unexpectedly been replaced! Harry was not to rejoice, though, certain the change was not brought about from a harmless cause, especially since their new professor, Eleanor Sparrowseed, previously worked in the Ministry of Magic as one of Cornelius Fudge's top advisors!
Harry recalled Dumbledore sending Snape on an unknown mission when they'd all been gathered in the infirmary after the Third Task, though obviously Dumbledore had been carefully subtle. However, Harry (as did Hermione and Ron) felt there was no doubt Snape was sent to work as a double agent, the most sensible explanation since Snape himself had been a Death Eater. As for his successor, Eleanor Sparrowseed was Snape's antithesis by all means: she was a highly attractive, tall blonde woman with complimenting curves for being in her early thirties, and her introducing speech demeanor made her seem charming. Despite her appealing impression, Harry, Ron, and Hermione easily saw past the front and viewed her as being employed at Hogwarts only as a political strategy, as one of Fudge's finest minions set upon a conspiracy against their newest, powerful enemy: Albus Dumbledore, keeper of the horrific truth.
And so after these illuminating yet puzzling events, Harry and Dumbledore harbored comfortably in the obscurely warming office that Harry found so familiar by now, except that now it felt like a meeting place for much more crucial affairs. After a brief cordial exchange, Dumbledore immediately confirmed him and his friends' scary suspicions. "Cornelius Fudge is a stubborn man, Harry, as shown in his execution of his every effort to prevent the wizarding world from knowing that Voldemort has indeed returned. Hence, as I am certain you have realized, the appointment of Eleanor Sparrowseed was forced upon me by Cornelius, who claimed the authority to command such by legalistic technicalities within the Ministry, even though such interference hasn't occurred for over a hundred years." He spoke characteristically, his tone calmly contained as usual, yet somehow Harry felt it dripped with severity. Even though Dumbledore had no pleasant matters to discuss with Harry, he still felt comforted because in Dumbledore Harry granted complete trust.
Still somewhat bewildered, Harry remarked, "Sir, won't everyone realize Voldemort's back, anyway? Won't he start to strike again very soon?" Harry asked curiously, slightly taken aback by what he viewed as a fruitless conspiracy on Fudge's part. Harry had assumed that Voldemort would seize his opportunity to make himself as evident as possible.
Dumbledore focused carefully on Harry through his moon-shaped spectacles. "Not yet, Harry. Voldemort is cunningly bright, don't forget that ever, and he knows it is in his best interest to bide his time and distract us with these qualms amongst ourselves," he explained patiently, his arms folded gracefully on his desk as he looked into Harry's hopelessly vulnerable, deep green eyes. He sighed at Harry's silent reaction, and wearily added, "I also feel strongly that Cornelius may truly been under the impression that Voldemort's return is just a fabrication of ours, perhaps to somehow overthrow him and seize power."
This angered Harry significantly because he was totally mystified by such idiocy. "That's rubbish, Professor! Why is he so against me? I mean, you remember Professor, he used Rita Skeeter's trash stories against me even!" Harry noted indignantly. "He thinks I'm a delusional Parseltongue that's dangerous."
Dumbledore, still perfectly composed despite being even wearier now, gestured a calming hand and consoling nod. "Yes, Harry, clearly his thought process is purely irrational, but don't forget that the wizarding world still holds me in superb esteems. Fudge can try to discredit me, use The Daily Prophet to spread vermin about both of us, but the wizarding world holds much more trust in me than in him; you may not be aware of this, but I was the favored candidate for Minister of Magic at the last election, but I refused to run because of my allegiance to Hogwarts. At the time, Cornelius was merely respected and somewhat qualified, but rest assured that had it not been for my personal endorsement, Fudge would never have succeeded."
This struck a piercing cord in Harry, who in lividness was shaking his fists at his lap and glaring menacingly as he pondered upon the disgustingly immoral manner in which Fudge showed Dumbledore gratitude; envy seemed to be Fudge's sole director apathetically. "That's terrible, Professor, how dare he treat you like that after ..."
Dumbledore gestured an appreciative but dismissive hand as he concluded, "I will ensure that the currently very fragile wizarding world no longer suffers in blind ignorance, the blind eye which will lead us to detriment if we do not intervene imminently in Fudge's conspiracy," His words had strong conviction, his extraordinary character shining especially bright to Harry as he observed Dumbledore's complete selflessness at the price of Fudge's ridicule.
Harry believed Dumbledore but was so outraged at the unfair treatment directed at not only Dumbledore (who had surely dealt with such throughout his long life and was much wiser), but at himself for his honest recollection of his horrifying experience: who had he wronged by detailing Cedric's death and Voldemort's return painfully, by bravely bringing Cedric's remains to the Diggory family, by being forced into a tournament that he didn't even qualify for? What had he done to Fudge, or to anybody within Ministry power or to the vicious reporters in The Daily Prophet (one example of a public slander of him), that justified the intense scrutiny that he would now confront much more fiercely now? He twitched more than ever with heated frustration, but disciplined a few deep breaths before nodding. "I understand, sir; I'll do my best to keep my cool while you work it out."
Dumbledore smiled rather sadly at Harry in appreciation, spoke a few more consoling words, and then finally Harry returned to his four-poster bed in Gryffindor Tower that awaited him after his strenuously-spent summer.
Draco hastily charged towards the dungeons, late to the first class with Professor Sparrowseed because his bag full of textbooks had split after he had already taken a moment to use the restroom, compliments to the enormous work that their fifth year was to bring due to O.W.L.S. exams. Only halfway to the dungeon entrance as the bell rang, Draco swore testily under his breath as he tried to hold his belongings in his makeshift bag. He uselessly cursed as he paced on stupidly, and heard footsteps behind him just as he approached the descending stairs, and as he looked behind him to see who it was, the very unlikely person spoke in her very identifiable, resented voice.
"Here, Malfoy, let me fix it for you." Hermione Granger was poised perfectly as always, holding her heavy bag neatly around her shoulder while holding her wand comfortably in her hand. She rolled her eyes at him as he glared evilly (but confusedly) at her, pointed her wand at his bag, muttered a simple charm that he should have thought of right away, and smirked at him in an almost friendly manner. The spell had orderly placed his belongings inside the bag (which seemed even sturdier than before) conveniently, but Draco stood stunned at the surreal event that had just taken place. She lightly laughed at him and walked past him, looking back to say, "You're lucky I was running an errand for Sparrowseed since I got there early. Just don't mention it to a single soul ever, Malfoy." She stalked off mysteriously, and he hatefully felt an emotion towards her that tended to be more apparent when in her presence lately: lust.
The truth was that the bushy-haired, buck-teethed teacher's pet had transformed into a tall, curvy brunette (her hair displayed in a slick bun, just as she had appropriated sexily at the Yule Ball last year), who undeniably had a rather large chest for an adolescent girl of no more than 130 pounds; and to top it off, while she had been a pestering know-it-all as a first and second year, now she came off as a prominent work of brilliance that others aspired to level with. He would choose to face a Hungarian Horntail a million times before openly admitting it, but Hermione Granger had become one of Hogwart's fanciest attractions.
And by the way she had just weirdly flirted with him pretty openly, Draco guiltily felt rather content that the admiration was perhaps mutual.
Hermione felt an adrenaline rush pulse through her veins, totally in shock after her brief encounter with Malfoy, partially appalled and partially (very guiltily felt) pleased as she deliberated in a mind war whether Draco fancied her to some level (unconsciously even, or perhaps secretly very conscious of it) that would be socially unacceptable, even if it were miniscule. Considering that she had just uncharacteristically disregarded her own inhibitions momentarily to flirt with Draco, she anticipated that now all bets were off; she was fairly certain that her question would be answered soon, though she felt horribly contaminated somehow, ashamed of her own lustful thoughts for Malfoy, one of their primary allies. But it was what it was.
Thankfully, Professor Sparrowseed interrupted her thoughts as she begun class with a well-rehearsed monologue regarding a return to conservative methods of teaching in preparation for their pivotal O.W.L.s examination. It basically, in other words, was her revealing that the class atmosphere would be obsolete, in perfect regiment with the Ministry's approval. The single benefit, in fairness, was that Snape's constant unrealistic, intense demands were no longer present; that, rather instead, made the class now a rather simple task for Hermione. As she begun copying down the notes with passionate vigor (like always), instantly all thoughts of Malfoy were eliminated as she fixated herself into school mode. Nothing could distract her from school, her most everlasting priority.
The topic of Chapter One in Advance and Complex Potion Making, O.W.L. Standardizations, by Joan Highland, centered upon a highly ironic topic that she was shocked the Ministry had approved of:Veritaserum, which had been used to interrogate Barty Crouch Jr., Mad-Eye Moody's impersonator, who then suffered the Dementor's Kiss because of the serum's results. Therefore it seemed rather odd that they were tackling an issue the first day that directly related to recent controversial events. This event was one of many interrelated ones that Harry participated in, too notably. (He probably could stir a scandal with each one if he chose to, though of course he wouldn't want to do any such thing.) Perhaps Veritaserum just happened to be at the start of the strict regiment now in effect. After all, the textbook was new and unheard of, and had already brought upon mixed reactions (including her own). In any case, despite that she was already well-informed on the topic (even before the Third Task's aftermath), Hermione still eagerly copied down the notes neatly just in case:
I. Veritaserum i.e. meticulously difficult to concoct, and its effect make the drinker completely incapable of speaking anything other than the truth, almost completely infallible; often used in trial interrogations at the defense's compliances; legalistically only valid evidence if serum is concocted by at least two Potion Masters, both responsibility must oversee and perfect the other's work.
Hermione absentmindedly glanced to her right once Sparrowseed began elaborating further on the subject, and accidentally noticed Malfoy peering at her surreptitiously: he held his quill between his teeth routinely - bored already without Professor Snape'sextra, praising attention -while his eyes warily narrowed with high interest. Unsurprisingly, though, instantly Draco looked away coolly at her noticing, as if nothing special was at play. It made Hermione wonder whether he had acknowledged that she had obviously seen quite enough. Nonetheless, sporadically throughout the two hour period, Hermione would try to take a subtle look in Draco's direction to catch him, but thereafter nothing unusual played out between the two. So, although she'd enjoyed their second "moment" (the first being in the hallway) by the time class ended Hermione felt totally monotonous…
While Harry and Ron complained away about Sparrowseed on their way to Advance Charms, Hermione pondered upon Draco and his unclear feelings, wishing she could give him Veritaserum without his knowing. Not that she'd react with avid pursuit either way, but there was simply a beauty in the relief of inhibitions and endless uncertainty.
Draco cursed himself for forgetting his Astronomy textbook in the North Tower after his midnight class, remembering only as he made it around the corner to the dungeons. He felt annoyed as ever as he half-scurried to retrace his steps, well-aware that it'd be a lot harder to get it in the morning. By the time he reached the North Tower's rooftop, Draco felt terribly weary, so at first glance of his textbook - which looked like debris on top the stone railing - he sped out into the cold and picked it up. But he was unexpectedly alarmed, because as he turned back again he saw a human shadow in the corner of his eyes! Draco was startled completely. He jumped into a swift turn to face the stranger, the hairs on the back of his neck flying up. What if he was about to be caught by a furious professor?
The spooky shadow was underneath the stone archway leading inside, but the person stepped into plain sight before Draco could do anything. And despite that the person's huge cloak hood was la partial mask, even from opposing ends of the rooftop Draco identified the person immediately: Unbelievably, the stranger was Hermione Granger, his secret, very guilty pleasure- the Mudblood of his dreams.