DM HG Fanficton Chapter 2

It has been two months since the train incident, and it seemed Hermione had forgotten it. She didn’t even give it much thought once she got off the train, as their last year at Hogwarts proved to be a very busy year. During Potions, Professor Snape was too busy giving a lecture to notice his students were goofing around in the back. The trio proved to be no exception, and were busy talking each other.

Draco glared at the brunette sitting with Harry and Ron. He hated everything about her. He hated how she always beat him at everything – despite her being a muggleborn. He hated her for that too, now that he thought about it. Stupid mudblood, strutting around like she owned the place. He hated how she always had to be around those two boys. He hated how her hair had gone from bushy to romantically curly. He hated how utterly desirable she was.

<I’m the fucking purebred here! She’s not supposed to look that good! > he thought angrily to himself. A Malfoy actually approving of anything but a purebred? It was a disgrace. He hated how her skin looked so beautifully pale he wanted to cover it with bruises and red bites. He hates it how she always looked at them differently than she did him. How her eyes lighted up when she was talking to Ron. Like now.

<And right now, I really hate it how she’s always laughing with those idiots! > Sulkily, like a spoiled child, he slumped into his chair. He unintentionally knocked over his books from his desk in frustration and made a large sound in the room. Everyone turned to look at him. Even Hermione.

Finally, her exquisite eyes met his, and for a moment, he held onto her gaze fiercely. Her eyes were flecked with gold, a shade of brown he had never encountered before. He could see himself gazing into them as he straddled her, her soulful eyes hooded in lust. Lust for him and… – he immediately derailed that train of thought. He didn’t desire her at all. In fact, the only possible reason he would want her to lust over him is so he could reject her and watch her heart break. He narrowed his eyes. That was the only reason. The only one. She quickly scowled and turned away, ignoring him. That angered him even more. What right did she have to ignore him?

Snape turned to the source of the noise and found a bored looking Draco. With a respectful nod, Draco then proceeded to point to Hermione.

"Miss Granger, what is the meaning of this?" Snape asked, the room becoming deathly quiet.

"What is it, Professor?" Hermione asked, thoroughly confused. She wasn’t doing anything. Well, she had the misfortune of making eye contact with a bloody jerk, but Snape wouldn’t punish her for that. That was ludicrous.

"Could you explain why you are talking in my class, and worse yet, deciding to interrupt it by spilling Mr. Malfoy’s books onto the floor?" he asked icily.

She blinked in confusion. "I-I’m sorry Professor? I was talking and I apologize for that, but I didn’t knock over his-"

"Pick them up, Miss Granger. I am taking ten points off Gryffindor and I will take another ten if you continue to waste my time," Snape interjected.

She opened her mouth to object, but then thought better of it. Not wanting to be even closer to Malfoy, she picked up her wand to magically wave the books back to the table.

"By hand. And be quick about it," Snape added nastily.

She tried very hard not to glare at him; no use getting more points deducted. Reluctantly, she walked over to Malfoy’s table. She cautiously tried to stay as far away as possible by quickly picking up his books and placing them on his desk. As she was turning to leave, Draco caught Hermione’s sleeve.

Furious, she turned to yank her arm away. He whispered harshly, "I thought I told you to stay away from those two." His eyes flashed in disapproval.

She acidly whispered back, "The day you can tell me what to do is the day Voldemort decides he wants to have a tea party with stuffed animals. Let. Go." With that, she wrestled out of his grip and marched back to her desk. Ron and Harry were shooting glares his direction. Like he cared.

Totally exasperated, Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose. Considering she was the brightest witch Hogwarts has ever seen, he didn’t realize how stupid and stubborn she could be. Couldn’t she see sticking around Potter could only draw attention to herself? Sooner or later some idiotic Death Eater will have the brilliant plan of capturing her and using her to get to Harry Potter.

Still, he was impressed she could utter the name of the Dark Lord out loud. She definitely had a backbone, if not a thick head. At the thought of Voldemort, Draco unconsciously stroked his inner left forearm. He had stopped wondering why he was even remotely interested in Hermione’s wellbeing a long time ago. Draco decided to simply carry out his intent and then think about his actions later. The bell finally rung and everybody hurried to get out of that damp dungeon and off to lunch.

"What did that slimy jerk say to you ‘Mione?" Ron asked, angry.

"The usual drivel – I’m stupid, I shouldn’t live, blah blah blah," she said distractedly, trying to shove all her books into her bag. She was as confused as she was the day she was on the train. Since when did Malfoy care about who she associated? The only conclusion she could reach was that he was thinking about her safety, which was preposterous. His behavior, although still annoying and cruel, was different than it was the past six years. She couldn’t figure him out; he suddenly stopped becoming a two-dimensional, predictable bully and into an enigma.

She would figure this out eventually. Reading people happened to be a specialty of hers, and Malfoy, no matter how complex, will be no exception. In the meanwhile, she didn’t want to say anything about her thoughts to her best friends. What could she say, she was possessive of her mysteries. They wouldn’t understand anyways. They’d just go beat him up – like that had ever changed his personality defects before. Hermione continued to fumble with her accursed bag, as her mind was elsewhere. Harry helped her, putting the latch in place. Hermione smiled in appreciation.

"It would’ve been a lot quicker if Snape would’ve just let you float Malfoy’s books to his desk," Harry said ruefully, knowing how awful it is to be accused of something by Snape.

"Speaking of Malfoy, he’s still here. Probably to suck up some more I bet," Ron muttered to them.

Ron placed his hand at the small of Hermione’s back, pushing her gently to the door. Blushing deeply at the intimate act, she could only nod.

<I-It’s not what you think Hermione. This is Ron here! Ron. No way he’d ever…..I mean, he’s never shown any…..> she thought frantically to herself, not allowing herself to dream.

<It’s our 7^th year, our last year here. He never said he liked me before, and he hasn’t said it now. He just doesn’t know what he’s doing.> she told herself firmly. Still, she could not ignore the wonderful warm feeling she was getting. She suddenly felt another pair of eyes. Draco, still lounging in his seat, was turned slightly to face them. One arm on the table, one arm on the back of his chair. She turned to see gray eyes, almost purple with displeasure

Once again, feelings of danger rushed back to her. She couldn’t ignore it this time – who knows what he was capable of. He was dangerous and had absolutely no restraints. He was born in a high position, meaning he could get away with murder.

She was a bit surprised, though, to find his eyes weren’t targeted at her. She followed his line of vision and found they were locked on Ron. Draco’s eyes promised brutality. She had to admit she had never seen his eyes like this, not even when Draco was looking at Harry. She didn’t have time to think about why Draco was acting the way he did. For once, fearing for Ron’s actual life, she did the only thing she could think of.

Regrettably, she quickened her pace so that Ron’s hand was no longer touching her. <Not like he likes me in the first place.> she thought sadly to herself. Not wanting to arouse suspicion, she turned back to Harry and Ron. "C’mon, let’s go to lunch. I’m starving," she said with forced cheer, praying her instincts paid off.

Thankfully, neither of the boys saw anything out of the ordinary and nodded in agreement. She peeked to look at Malfoy through the corners of her eyes. She saw him relax slightly and smirked, apparently quite satisfied. With a resigned sigh, she followed her friends. Throughout lunch, she could not, for the life of her, figure out Malfoy’s odd behavior.

< What’s your story Malfoy? Why are you so interested in what I do this year? > She mentally queried her thoughts as she looked over to him at the Dining Hall. He was eating with his Housemates, but he isolated himself from the group and opted to eat silently. He looked about the same as always, albeit more distinguished, dangerous, and handsome. She sighed in disgust. Beauty really was wasted on the undeserving. Damn that ferret.

Malfoy smirked, too pleased with himself to eat. He felt her eyes wandering over him during lunch, trying to read him, probe him for his abnormal behavior. One single look and she did exactly what he wanted her to do. She always was a perceptive girl. As much as he hated to admit it, he enjoyed finally being the center of her attention. It was nice to know he could control her like that too. That feeling of domination gave him a wonderful feeling of power.

He decided he didn’t like her – no, he’d rather die. But he couldn’t deny she was physically attractive. And the thought of taming her fiery nature aroused him even more. She would be his greatest challenge, his greatest prize. He rationalized he would satisfy his own lusts and do away with her when he tired of her. Lucius couldn’t possibly keep track of every woman Draco had, so there would be no shame, no punishment on him for sleeping with a mudblood. Besides, once he got bored with her, he’d throw her away like an old rag doll. Knowing the female heart, she’d be utterly devastated and hurt. And wasn’t that what he wanted? To hurt that girl, that wench? Yes, he would have her.

When he felt her eyes on him again, he looked up and held onto her gaze, as he did in Potions. She was startled that he noticed, but she locked her jaws and glared back, refusing to be the one to break their staring contest. His smirk deepened. Her defiance was always something he had admired.

<Watch yourself Granger, > he thought languidly. <I always get what I want. > He licked his lips slowly, sensuously. Her eyes widened with disgust, but her cheeks betrayed her with a blush. She quickly looked away, her face still very much red. He could practically see the cogs in her head spinning, trying to figure out yet another change in his behavior. He suppressed a chuckle.

It was going to be a hell of a ride.

How little he knew. It began as a game, an activity to pass the time. But it would become the beginning of his undoing.

The beginning of his obsession.