CHAPTER 2
Hermione barely managed to register who the hell had just walked in before she saw a shiny blond head zooming towards her face and heard her own shrill scream resound throughout the small enclosure.
“AAAAARGH!” she shrieked as she felt her delicate nose break and saw the first droplets of blood rain down on her attacker’s head and her own arm.
Instantly, the boy started and did a ridiculous turn in midair before painfully colliding with door’s glass window and lying spread-eagled on the floor. In this time, Hermione’s pain was quickly replaced with anger and irritation as she saw exactly who it was…her old nemesis and archenemy: Draco Malfoy, The Amazing Bouncing Ferret, The Boy with the Death Eater Dad, the one who could feed a third-world country a whole year with just the money he spent on hair-care products.
Hermione tried to snort as these thoughts rushed through her head, but then the teensy little problem of her pulverized proboscis dragged her brain back into action. Reaching up with her wand, she gently tapped her nose and muttered, “Episkey” before slowly getting to her feet and siphoning off the spattered blood on her arm. Then, she turned towards the still prone figure of Draco Malfoy and rolled her eyes, annoyed. The pureblooded idiot’s eyes were wide open and he looked like he was saying something to himself, so obviously he was well enough to pick up his sorry ass and plop it onto a seat.
But of course he didn’t do that.
Yeah, just leave that to Healer Granger, always ready to save another pureblood’s pathetic ass so that the world can be honored with his presence again. Just effing wonderful, she thought to herself bitterly.
Bracing herself against the slightly slippery floor, she took a deep breath and then firmly pulled up Malfoy by his arms. When he still seemed a slight bit dazed, she sighed again, this time a bit more gently, before pointing her wand at his chest and saying “Enervate”. This proved to be effective because he began to blink rapidly, as if trying to put the world in focus, and then groaned loudly.
Hermione snapped her fingers in front of his face and said a bit loudly, “Malfoy? Malfoy? Can you hear me?”
He responded with an even louder groan.
That’s when Hermione noticed the ugly-looking bump on his forehead…no doubt it was from when he’d smashed his face against the glass. Vaguely wondering if she was even doing the right thing by moving to heal his wound, she lifted her wand to his face for what she hoped would be the last time for that day, and mumbled a healing spell that made the bump vanish the moment she’d finished speaking.
Finally, he seemed to understand what was going on. He recognized her face and immediately his face went sour.
“Mudblood?! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Realizing that her wand was still pointed at his face, she quickly stowed it out of sight before replying angrily,
“I just healed your bloody self-inflicted wound, ferret! Some heartfelt gratitude or even a simple thank you would be nice!”
“Oh, shut it, Mudblood,” he scoffed. “The only heartfelt thing I’d ever feel for you is a homicidal urge, and sadly, I haven’t yet acted on that urge!”
Hermione narrowed her eyes until they were dangerously squinted. “You little bastard. I wasn’t the one who pranced in here like he was a bloody prima ballerina, and I sure as hell wasn’t the one who broke an innocent bystander’s nose!”
He brightened up at her words. “So I did break your nose! Excellent. I was worried that this was all just a good dream.”
Unfortunately for Malfoy, he didn’t see the raging fire in Hermione’s eyes before it was too late. He only heard her cry, “Petrificus Totalus!” before feeling his entire body freeze up. Trying to give her his most terrifying glare in spite of the ridiculous expression he knew was still locked on his face, he saw her give a satisfied little smirk as she stood back and put her hands on her hips.
“Now listen up, you dimwit, and listen well. This year is our last year together, and I’m going to make sure that you don’t give me any personal trouble. I know it’ll be hard, knowing that you were born an ass and will naturally die an ass, but I’m warning you, for your sake, keep the idiotic behavior to a minimum or else I’ll hex you so bad, your fantasies of ever hearing the pitter patter of little Malfoy feet will become total dust!”
And with that, she swiftly turned on her heel away from Malfoy’s enraged face and sat down on her seat with a book as if nothing had ever happened. It was there she sat watching gleefully as Malfoy built up his fury, knowing perfectly well that his fingers were just itching to wrap themselves around her throat.
Draco seethed with fury as the Mudblood sauntered away and sat back down in her seat, an infuriating smirk on her face and some stupid little book in her hand.
That bitch! he yelled mentally. That moronic, aggravating, infuriating, stupid, cheating little bitch! How dare she?! HOW DARE SHE? Wait until I tell my father what she’s done…he’ll hang her up by her ugly, bushy hair and burn her with burning hot metal rods, and then he’ll throw ice water in her face over and over again, and then he’ll…..
Due to his indignant mental tirade, he hadn’t noticed the sliding open of the door and the entrance of a tall, thin figure.
“Mr. Malfoy,” said a sharp and all-too-familiar voice. “Exactly what are you doing, sitting there like that, and looking like you have constipation issues? Kindly resume a more suitable expression and posture, as I have important information for both of you.”
To Draco’s surprise, he found that he could move himself freely and wondered sheepishly exactly how long he’d been free of the Body-Bind before shaping his face into a more normal expression: boredom.
Giving him a slightly withering look, McGonagall began speaking about all the duties and notices that were to be brought to the Heads’ attention.
Zoning out the moment McGonagall began to speak, Draco began thinking of all the girls he’d meet and entrance and destroy over the course of the year. The idea gave him immeasurable pleasure: the fact that he had complete control over those foolish girls’ hearts, and minds, and bodies, and that while Potter might be the immortal “Boy-Who-Would-Simply-NOT-Die”, HE was the ultimate and indestructible Slytherin Prince and Sex God. After all, he walked all over girls’ hearts, not the opposite. Just love them and leave them, he thought smugly.
The sound of what seemed like a speech being wrapped up snapped him out of his thoughts, and he mindlessly nodded to whatever McGonagall was barking about.
She ended with just a few final tips. “Your quarters are behind the portrait of Wickham the Wise, and the password is ‘golostrype’. Once again, while you are permitted to dock points when required, you are NOT allowed to abuse this privilege at will.”
Draco struggled to put on an innocent expression as she glowered at him. Behind McGonagall, he could see Granger doing the same, and promised himself to dock at least thirty points from Gryffindor that same day.
As the Professor left in a swish of tartan, he walked over to the Mudblood and gave her what he proudly considered a beautifully nasty grin. “You’d better watch your filthy little back, Mudblood, because from now on, my wand is always going to be pointed at it.”
He speedily drew back before she had the chance to break his own nose or something, and left the compartment basking in the glory of his brief triumph. That evening, Granger didn’t look back at him a single time. Not when ushering the pesky little first-years towards the Great Hall, not when Dumbledore called them up to declare them as Hogwarts Heads, and not when McGonagall directed them to their rooms.
Maybe, he thought with a modicum of relief, I scared her off for good this time.
Of course, he never noticed the corners of Hermione’s mouth twitching as she stared at his back while he ascended the stairs to go into his room. Nor, of course, did he see her fingering her wand delicately before walking into the bathroom and wrenching open the cabinet where he kept all his personal hygiene products.
Because if he had seen her, the glint in her eyes would have warned him that this evening had only been the calm before the storm.
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