Magnetic Attraction - Chapter Fifteen

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Chapter 15: The Idiotic Things Boys Do

The sky was gray and the rain was steady, but Hermione was positively beaming when she woke up late on Saturday morning. She rolled over, throwing her arm over to the other side of the bed, expecting Draco to yelp and growl at her, but she only hit her pillows. That only made her smile grow wider. He loved her.

Feeling fresh and rejuvenated, she leapt out of bed and got dressed in a frenzy, only just glancing at the clock. It was already ten, meaning he would have already left for his mother’s funeral. She sighed in relief that she wouldn’t have to go, but at the same time wondered why he hadn’t left a note or something, and why he hadn’t stepped by the previous night. But it didn’t really matter, he would see her soon. Because he was in love with her.

She would make him lunch! Oh, that would be so perfect and cheer him up. After a trip down to the kitchens, Hermione had more food than two people could eat, but accepted the basket the house elves gave her with a smile. She set their kitchen table quickly, laying everything out on the china painted with the Hogwarts crest. She even hummed under her breath, still smiling brilliantly. This would be her day, their day. Then they would go do something completely clichéd and corny, just because they could, like go to Madame Puddifoot’s, or go flying on his broom again. The possibilities were endless, because she had a boyfriend.

A totally hot boyfriend, she reminded herself as she put on his Slytherin school tie as a belt, just because she could. Who loves you! It was a total squee moment. Where was Ginny when she needed her?

The common room portrait flew open on its hinges, startling her. She dropped her hairbrush on the bathroom floor with a large crack, before dashing out into the common room. Draco was halfway to his bedroom door, shivering off rain, when she made it, and she called out,

“Draco!” He froze, his hands balling into fists. She blinked as he kept his back to her, biting her lip. She could see he was breathing heavily, his shoulders rising up and down quickly. “Why didn’t you come in last night? I waited for you for a while.” She smiled feebly; a little scared by the angst-ridden appearance of her boyfriend. He didn’t answer, but slowly turned around. She took a step back.

He looked almost unrecognizable, no longer the kind, caring, gentle boy who had kissed her and held her when she was scared. Draco was gone, but Malfoy was back. And his eyes were cold, showing the turmoil and anger and frustration that brewed in their gray depths. His hair was pasted to his forehead from rain, his glistening with a mixture of dried tears and more raindrops. And he was scowling, one corner of his lips curled upwards. Hermione gulped, fingering the soft material of her shirt. “Draco, you’re scaring me.” He glared at her, sending her stumbling slightly backwards. It was like before the attraction, when he hated her with all his being. He sneered.

“Mudblood slut,” he hissed, softly but full of anger and hate. Her eyes widened.

“Draco, stop it. This isn’t funny!” He took a step forward, his movements stiff and forced. He backed her up into the wall, pressing into her so that she couldn’t twist her neck to look up at him. His hot breath tickled her ear, and she closed her eyes, almost frightened. For a second she thought he had just been joking, and he placed his hand on her hip, his fingers fumbling with the tie. The smell of cold damp air and dust lingered on his black dress robes, and she breathed it in deeply, seeking some relief and reassurance. This wasn’t him; this was the cold, heartless, bastard Malfoy. He leant his head against hers and whispered gently, almost seductively,

“Keep your scummy hands off my things,” before brutally yanking his tie out of her belt loops. She yelped, her eyes flying open, as he stepped back, stuffing the belt into his pocket, before spitting on the ground next to her feet. She stared in shock into his eyes, and saw that hidden and covered by the loyalty to Slytherin and honor to his family, there was a small amount of remorse. Then he swept away into his room, slamming his door behind him, as she slid down the wall to the floor and cried.

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Ginny smiled at Harry over the chessboard. He furrowed his brow as her queen reduced his knight to dust. She sighed. Things were so good these days, with Voldemort gone and so many innocent deaths avenged. Sure the survivors were still haunted in the dark by the shadows of those who had died, but things were undoubtedly better. Winning had done wonders for Harry, who was no longer so scared of letting loose and having fun. However, it had reopened wounds for some people, and Hermione was strangely quiet and withdrawn lately. It took a fellow girl to notice her change in eating habits, and only recently had Hermione rejoined them at meals. Ginny had to give it to Malfoy; he alone had been able to wake up their friend.

Ron and Harry were classic boys, and didn’t see how they had been leaving their friend behind, but Ginny did try to include Hermione as much as possible. It was unfortunate that she was not interested in Quidditch like the other two, making it hard to find things to do together, and her lack of a boyfriend made things worse, causing her to feel like a fifth wheel. Plus, she had to take into consideration Hermione’s old crush on Ron, which had made her reluctant to come out of the library at all.

But now with Malfoy, the equation was more equal. She was eating; she was relaxing. Hermione wasn’t bothered by Lavender, and everything was just… better; she couldn’t think of another way to say it. But Ron was as jealous as hell; it was obvious.

The portrait hole flew open and Ginny and Harry looked up automatically, expecting to see a group of rowdy fifth years or perhaps Neville back from his brunch date with Luna, only to find Hermione herself crawling through, looking like death walking. Ginny leapt up immediately when she saw the pronounced tear trails, as did Harry, and quickly waved her over, leaving room between her boyfriend and herself. Hermione stumbled over, and all the Gryffindors who had been crowded inside by the rain looked up expectantly, as if their Head Girl’s sudden appearance would automatically sprout gossip. When they sat back down, Hermione cuddled against Harry’s chest, something Ginny knew was purely platonic and had no problem with.

“Oh, Merlin, Hermione, what happened?” she asked, pulling Hermione’s legs onto her lap so she could stretch out across them. The brunette shook her head frantically, clinging to her best friend, who looked more confused than ever before. “Mione, what went wrong? Ron said you seemed fine last night!” Ginny gulped, sending a nervous glance at Harry, who had chosen to deny that his female best friend was in love with his longest enemy, and had not reacted well when Ron had insisted it was true the previous night. But Harry just stroked Hermione’s back, cooing softly to comfort her.

“I- I dunno what changed!” Hermione stammered, sobbing uncontrollably. “He s-seemed different and- and called me a- a- a- slut!” Harry and Ginny looked up at each other, knowing whom she was discussing automatically. They stiffened as she continued, “He w-was really cruel, he- he went back to being M- Malferret!” From then on all other things said by the Gryffindor were incomprehensible. Harry felt his protective side take over and want to throttle Malfoy, but he would have to wait to invoke his famous caps-lock rage.

Ron stumbled down the boy’s dormitory steps, only just waking up, and scanned the room for his friends. Upon seeing one such friend bawling her eyes out, he immediately ran over and sat down on the coffee table across from them. Making eye contact with his younger sister, he mouthed,

“What is it?” She pinched the bridge of her nose, before mouthing in return,

“Malfoy.”

Ron saw red.

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Draco couldn’t take the loud sound of Hermione crying in the next room without being able to help, so he left. She didn’t even notice him as he grabbed his book bag and headed to the library, all the while forcing away guilt and regret. She’d crumpled in front of him, completely clueless! He should be happy; he was part of the way towards total revenge! But it didn’t feel right; not those hopeless eyes staring up at him full of fear.

She made out with Weasley a few hours after you admitted you loved her, he reminded himself. You can do better than a tramp like that!

But she admitted she loved you at the same time you did! Why would she fool around with him? Another part of him argued, sounding revoltingly like Harry Potter. He growled at the voice, throwing open a set of doors.

Because she’s a Mudblood slut, that’s why! It didn’t add up, but he ignored it. It was time to get his normal life back. He’d go see Pansy later, get a Hermione replacement. Though his conscious feared Pansy and her multiple personalities, he didn’t want to fall asleep alone again. Then again, asking a fellow Slytherin for comfort was never a good idea, as they had a habit of exploiting your weaknesses as soon as they identified them.

The library was full of students, who crammed around tables to do their homework and study. Uncomfortable with the countless heads that turned to stare at him when he entered, he kept walking past the desks to a small alcove away from the hustle and bustle. It was already inhabited by a first-year Ravenclaw, but Draco sneered at him and the young pre-teen scampered away like a startled mouse. It felt nice to be able to terrorize young children again without Hermione scolding him like a mere toddler.

You must call her Granger, he reprimanded himself as he laid out his books in front of him, though with a scowl he saw he didn’t have his leather-bound planner. Or Mudblood, or the Gryffindor Slut or something. But the memory of her smiling placidly when he first called her Mya taunted him, as if it were pulling his hair. Frustrated, Draco pulled out the tie he had violently reclaimed from Her- Granger. Always Granger. He balled it up in fury. It smelled like her, the soft scent of the library itself along with the rosy mix of her shampoo. The teenager couldn’t catch a break. But it was going to get far worse.

Something or someone clonked him sharply on the back of his head; sending his face smashing against he desk in front of him. He groaned as something in his nose snapped, and drew his hand to his face as he lifted his head off the desk. Thick droplets of blood smeared his fingers. Draco turned around to see an enraged Weasley wielding a large, heavy book, and glaring murderously as Draco cursed himself for forgetting about Her- Granger’s boyfriends.

“What did you do to her?” the red head snarled, thwacking him on the head again. Draco’s head was ringing, as he stood up, shaky on his feet, as his nose continued dripping floods. “She was so happy when I saw her last night!” Weasley abandoned his book and kicked him in the shins, making him crumple backwards, knocking his shoulder on the corner of the desk. “Where do you get off, you asshole? She loves you!” Draco retaliated and swung his leg under Weasley’s ankles, making him lose his balance and topple down onto his butt.

“I didn’t do anything to her!” he yelled back; standing up, blood pulsing in his head. Weasley did the same quickly, relatively unhurt. “That bitch cheated on me!” Weasley shoved him in the chest with a roar, sending him falling backwards over the desk. He yelled feebly as his leg twisted at a bad angle, breaking it cleanly. Weasley walked around the desk, advancing like a lion on its prey.

“Hermione doesn’t cheat and don’t you dare call her a bitch!”

“You liar, I saw you two last night! What? Aren’t two girlfriends enough for you? Why’d you have to take mine?” Weasley sneered and quickly grabbed him by the throat, hoisting him up the wall. Draco’s breathing was impaired, and he felt lights shutting off. Ron grinned fierily as his victim’s eyes closed, and let him fall to the floor. He watched as some random Slytherin came and levitated Draco to the infirmary, and he remained smiling as McGonagall reluctantly gave him a month’s detention with Filch and took a hundred points from Gryffindor.

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Harry and Ginny managed to calm Hermione down in about twenty minutes, never noticing that Ron had left in a rage and never come back. Hiccupping ever so often, she managed to recount to them Draco’s freak-out. They grew steadily angrier as she grew more depressed. So much for that bad feeling…

“I just don’t get it,” she mumbled, staring up at Harry with her head in his lap. He smiled sympathetically. “This time yesterday I was nodding off on his shoulder, and now he’s just completely different.” Harry doubted Draco had ever changed in the first place, but knew better than to tell her otherwise when she was only just calming down. Plus, Ginny would probably hit him. “Should I go talk to him?” He resisted the urge to ask her if she was crazy, but thankfully Ginny took over for him.

“No, just let him sort out his issues.” Hermione nodded, listening intently. “He’s probably just nervous and worried that you don’t feel the same way or something stupid like that.” Harry rolled his eyes, still annoyed that they were talking about Malfoy as if he were a normal person. They didn’t notice. “You have to realize, Mione, that there’s a lot in his head telling him this is a bad idea. His parents have left him to continue the Malfoy way of life, and that does not include a Muggleborn Gryffindor. He’ll come around eventually, but for now he had to sort out whether the pressures put on him are more important than how much he loves you.”

“How do you know everything, Gin?” Hermione asked with a small smile. “You should write a book explaining all of the idiotic things boys do.” Ginny waved the compliment off as Harry sighed. Damn girl talk. Where was Ron to keep up the testosterone levels?

“Just wait, Mione, he’ll come back to you eventually,” Ginny said wisely. The room around them grew quiet suddenly, and the trio looked up, and following the pointed fingers of their fellow Gryffindors, they saw a disheveled, bloody-fisted, smirking Ronald Weasley, who gave them all a maniacal wave. Harry gulped, before asking, his voice level after anger management coaching courtesy of Ginny,

“What did you do, Ron?” He swaggered over, looking down at the confused Hermione with a smug expression, before plopping down next to them on a cushy armchair.

“I have completed the ultimate Gryffindor dream. Hermione, you’re going to love me.” She eyed him warily as she sat up, while Ginny hesitantly asked,

“What are you talking about?” Ron lifted up his bloody fist.

“I defended Hermione’s honor by putting that asshole Malfoy in the hospital wing indefinitely.” Hermione gasped, her hand fluttering to her chest as Ron leaned back in his seat. Harry groaned. Just what he needed.

“What? Ronald, how could you? Is he okay?” Ron shrugged, unbothered by her horrified expression. Hermione stood up, her mouth open. “Please tell me you didn’t kill him!”

“I don’t think he’s dead. Bummer. But I can proudly say he passed out and I think I broke his leg. Zabini had to take him to the hospital wing.” Ginny made a growl of disgust as Hermione sneered in fury, looking much like she wanted to put him in the infirmary. But instead, preferring to run to her (ex?) boyfriend’s side than to throttling her friend, she bolted out the door.

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“The poor boy was in a lot of pain when he came up here. How he felt I can only imagine. Luckily, the break in his leg was clean and he won’t have to endure Skele-Gro. I’ve set it in a cast instead, just so I can concentrate on his other problems. I also gave him a potion so he’ll stay unconscious for a few more hours. However, the nasty bruises on his shoulder, back, face, and the back of his neck need a salve applied before he goes to sleep and when he wakes up, so that’s bound to upset him. Mr. Weasley may have done some lasting damage.”

Hermione was close to tears as she looked down at Draco. He was sleeping peacefully, but his appearance was not so innocent. Ron had left this mark, and the blond’s usually pale, colorless face was now blanketed with purple and blue, along with a few raw scrapes on the back of his head where Ron had dragged him up the wall. She sat down in a stiff wooden chair by his bedside, only partly listening to Madame Pomfrey as the woman rubbed salve across Draco’s shoulder. The boy had his shirt off, and Hermione resisted the urge to rest her head against it and curl up in a ball.

This was why they couldn’t be together. Ron had seemed supportive the previous night, but now he had to do this. And this was bad. Draco would never want to get back together now, after an ass-kicking courtesy of her best friend. He looked an absolute mess, so hopeless.

“Ms. Granger, could you continue this for me? I need to check on another patient,” Madame Pomfrey asked, handing her the small tub of salve. Hermione nodded, and hesitantly dipped her finger into the thick white cream before leaning over to stroke it across his neck. Realizing she was seated too far away, she got up to perch on the edge of his bed. For unknown reasons she felt nervous around him, even as he slept, because she had been so thrown off course when he’d yelled at her. When he awoke, would he be the kind and considerate Draco who she loved, of the vicious asshole who had called her Mudblood for years? She smeared another glob of the ointment over the hand-shaped bruise around his neck.

“Poor baby,” she cooed to the boy, letting her fingers linger. This was so tiring. A break-up, a crying jag, and now a bloodied ex who she didn’t want as an ex in the first place. She just wanted to take a nap. Surely Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t mind if she just slid in next to Draco? She was Head Girl after all. No one would notice, and she wouldn’t do anything.

After finishing tending to Draco and putting the tub back down on the nightstand, she laid down next to him, above the covers, of course. She drifted off quickly, comforted by his steady breathing next to her ear.

Madame Pomfrey smiled approvingly at the star-crossed couple, and closed the curtains around their bed. They would get one night of peace, and no one would interrupt the final night of silence.

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