Chapter 3 : III. Muggle Studies
| ||Rating: 15+||Chapter Reviews: 65|
Background: Font color:
Hello there. Draco Malfoy here. I am quite depressed at the moment, considering that my relationship with the Mudblood, also known as Hermione Granger, has frozen completely. She does not acknowledge me in the hallways, or during class, or in Prefect meetings, or even as we take turns using the Heads bathroom. I think that kiss scared her off. But isn’t she supposed to be a Gryffindor? What happened to all that bloody courage?
Don’t get me wrong here. I’m not about to give up completely. I have come up with another tactic to try out, and it is to exhibit my immense knowledge of the glorious Muggle world. This way she will see that I am willing to learn about non-purebloods (momentary shudder) in order to learn more about her. To do this I have stolen some tiny little third year’s Muggle Studies book, and I have been reading it at night. It was the most boring book I have ever attempted to read in my life, but I did it. I struggled for a week or two and now I have finally finished it. Now I just have to somehow get Hermione’s attention.
It was a quiet Saturday evening. I was lying on my back on the leather couch in the Heads common room, staring at the ceiling. Every few seconds I would take a peek at Hermione to take stock of the situation.
Hermione was bent over her desk, scribbling furiously. Her white feather quill darted back and forth on the parchment. Her face was frowning in concentration. A stack of books (she had obviously found a way to get them back after I had Vanished them) sat on the corner of the desk, each patiently waiting for their turn. One was propped open. The pages kept falling to one side, no doubt annoying her to no end. She kept flipping the book back open impatiently, finding her place and then resuming her furious scribbling. Three candles lit her workspace. I admired the way the light played off her hair. I never knew so many different colors could exist amid brown hair.
A few minutes later, Hermione dropped her quill and leaned back in her chair, stretching. She yawned, glancing at the clock. Time to act, before she left to go to her own room.
"Granger," I called out, making sure to keep my gaze on the oh so fascinating ceiling. She did not need to know that I had spent the better part of the past hour staring at her.
"What, Malfoy?" she said warily, without looking at me.
"I know how fellytones work," I said, with a pleased grin on my face.
Hermione finally turned around completely. She looked bewildered. "Pardon?"
"Fellytones," I said. "You know, those Muggle objects that let you talk to someone who's really far away."
She still looked confused. Merlin, she couldn't be that daft, could she?
"You mean telephones?" said Hermione, arching an eyebrow. "The one invented by Alexander Graham Bell in 1876?"
"Yeah," I said, feeling a blush creep onto my face. Damn it. Malfoys don't blush. "That's what I meant. Telephones."
Hermione took a seat in the chair next to the one I was lounging on. This was the closest she had ventured near me since our kiss.
"So," she said, trying to keep her face straight. "How do they work, Malfoy?"
"Well," I began. Come on, Draco. You just read this two days ago. "One person has a telephone and they punch in a number, called a telephone number, and then it magically connects via wires and stuff like that and the other person's fellytone--er, telephone--rings and then they can talk."
Now she was grinning. Well, I may have made a fool out of myself but at least she was entertained. "It's not magical," she said, shaking her head. "Otherwise they wouldn't be Muggles, would they? No, it's all based on science. No magic."
"Not even a little?" I said.
She shook her head, still grinning. "Did you know that telephones are almost a thing of the past? Muggles have cell phones now. They're like miniature telephones that you can carry around everywhere. And they have laptop computers, music players--"
Eager to redeem myself, I cut in and continued, "--and toasters, telegraphs, veletators, phonographs, scaliators, and marine subs."
She burst out laughing. While her laugh was amazingly beautiful, I had a feeling she was laughing at me. So I did not laugh along.
"What's so funny?" I said, scowling.
"Toasters? Phonographs? Malfoy, those things were invented ages ago. And what on earth are veletators and scaliators?" She fought to keep her laughter down.
"You know," I said, still scowling. "Veletators are those boxes that carry people from the first floor to the second floor. Kind of like the lifts at the Ministry, only they run without magic. And scaliators are moving stairs. Like the ones at Hogwarts."
She burst out laughing again. "Are you talking about elevators and escalators? Would you care to explain what marine subs are, then?"
She was patronizing me. My friend, let me tell you that it was a very humbling experience. "They are robotic whales," I muttered for an answer. "They go underwater and probe."
Hermione pressed her face into a pillow, but that didn't stop her laughter at all. "Robotic whales!" she choked out in between laughs.
"Okay, Granger. You can stop laughing now. It's not funny anymore," I said, thoroughly done with this conversation. Why did I even bring it up in the first place?
She raised her face from the pillow, her eyes streaming with tears of mirth at my expense. "You're funny, Draco. That was the most bloody hilarious conversation I've ever had with you, or anyone for that matter."
I would have gone up to bed completely irritable, but something registered in my mind that made me stop and think. Did she just call me Draco?
She seemed to have realized it at the same time. "Did I just--" She stopped and shook her head as though she were frightened. "I must be delirious. Anyway, I have to finish my essay…. Malfoy, I'm impressed. I didn't know that you knew so much about the Muggle world." She smirked, the corner of her mouth twitching. Hey! That's my smirk!
She took her essay with her into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her while I sat there in a daze. Only one thing was running through my mind: she was impressed. Hermione Granger was impressed. The Mudblood was impressed by my immense knowledge of Muggles!
My life, at the moment she uttered those words, was almost complete. Almost.
Kind of short, and not exactly the most exciting chapter...I know. And sorry about the long wait! There are seven more ways to impress a Mudblood, and the next chapter should be up soon! Please review. They keep me going :)
Yours till the Wrackspurt steals your thoughts,
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories
Of Dracos an...
No More Tear...