“He is the limit! He is so damn, callous and obnoxious and annoying, and so fucking infuriating! Walking around as if he owns everything. With that stupid smirk on his bloody albino bastard face!” Hermione had been venting out her frustrations over Malfoy to Ginny for the best part of half an hour, as they sat in the comfy armchairs by the fire in the Gryffindor common room. It was a sleepy Saturday Morning, as Hermione didn’t get much sleep last night after rounds.
“Jeez, calm yourself down love! It’s only been, what, a day? Let’s look at this logically Hermione. Nothing has changed apart from the fact your rooms are near each other. Just keep out of his way!” Ginny offered her advice, though her mind seemed to be elsewhere. She had listened to Hermione ramble over Malfoy for the first ten minutes before she lost track and just nodded, or gave a few oohs and aahs. To be honest, she didn’t know why Hermione was complaining so much. She never usually let Malfoy’s snide comments bother her.
“There is no logic to it Ginny. I guarantee that by the end of this week I will have punched him again!” Hermione groaned.
“Honestly Hermione, you‘ve said that already. Twice. You are verging on the point of hysterical. Just forget him. Hey, you wanna come to Hogsmeade with everyone next Saturday?” Ginny asked as she squinted at the Gryffindor notice board from her seat.
“Yeah, that sounds good actually.” Hermione replied shortly, as she sensed that this was where the conversation about Malfoy was to stop.
"How's the whole, sharing a common room with Malfoy going?" Harry asked her as they walked through Hogsmeade. In response she glared at him and threw open the door of the Three Broomsticks. It slammed back in Harry's face. "I'll take that as a work-in-progress."
She joined Ginny and Ron, who were sat at a table near the window, and was closely followed by Harry, she looked at him apologetically.
“It can’t be that bad ‘Mione” Harry suggested, “It’s Malfoy. He’s bound to be hell on earth.” He smiled lightly, and she felt a rush of sympathy towards him. If he only knew, how frustrating living with Draco Malfoy actually was.
“So far, apart from being his usual pompous up-his-own-backside self, he has dominated the common room by bringing that stupid slut Pansy Parkinson there, in which I’m sure she has shagged him on my favourite couch, after that, last night he ruined my charms essay on purpose, by ‘accidentally’ throwing it away, and to top it off, he used ALL my shampoo!” Hermione gushed, at her friends.
“Careful ‘Mione! You almost sound jealous of Parkinson!” Ron laughed at his own joke, but seeing the look on Hermione’s face he immediately stopped and fell to silence by her deathly glare.
“You know what Ronald, You try living with a Malfoy. Or have you all forgotten who his father is? He could be a death eater. I could be living with a death eater! Do you not think he is in the perfect position?” Hermione was furious, but concerned by the other three’s ‘stop talking now’ looks.
“I didn’t know you thought of me like that, what kind of position?” He winked at her. Yes, actually winked at her, and then raised his eyebrows inquisitively as she turned in her seat to face him. Luckily he hadn’t seemed to have caught the first part of her rant, or the rest of the conversation.
“Oh go away Malfoy. Is torturing me in the privacy of our common room not enough for you? Or must you proceed to try and humiliate me in front of my friends too?” She asked, faking a sweet smile.
“Granger, you know how I love a bit of friendly banter between us.” He said quite oblivious to the fact that half the pub was listening to their squabble.
Hermione got out of her seat to stand in front of him, and had just realised that Pansy was standing a little behind him watching their show though not really bothered by it. She actually felt a small amount of pity for Pansy Parkinson. Woah, how fucked up is that? Though she doesn’t even realise. She thinks she can change Draco Malfoy? She’s just another temporary fuck. Shame for her. Hermione thought to herself. “Friendly banter, Malfoy? Friends ask before they use each others shampoo. I didn’t know you were into Coconut and Eucalyptus?” Hermione said, with laughter from her table.
To her surprise, Malfoy smirked down on her, and bent once more to whisper against her ear. Ron and Harry stood from the table protectively as Ginny just rolled her eyes. “You know, my hair is one of my defining attractive qualities. I have to look after it. Girls love my hair!”
Hermione laughed cruelly, and tipped her head to the side so she could whisper against his ear, “I couldn’t imagine why, the albino appearance and the gel you put in it make you look like a ferret that’s just been drowned. Oh but wait…”
She backed away from him to admire the sneer on his face, she smirked at him, an almost mirror image of his own, before he motioned to Pansy to follow him out the pub, and up the high street.
Later that evening Hermione returned to the common room, and decided to make a start on a Potions essay that was due in the following Thursday. She had just sat down and got to work, when the portrait hole slammed open earning a light huff from the woman on the rock. Draco strode in to the room and threw himself on the sofa opposite her. He was wearing his Quidditch robes, and Hermione had gathered that his second week of practice had went no better than the first.
“You know Malfoy, if you’re needing help on the pitch, I’m sure Harry could help you out?” She offered.
“Look Mudblood, for once, keep your fucking dirty mouth shut. If I wanted advice from the boy who just won’t fucking die, I’d ask for it!” Malfoy exclaimed. Clearly he was not in the mood to chat, and instead of leaving him alone, Hermione was basking in the glory of his annoyance.
“There’s no need to take it out on me! It’s not my fault the Slytherin team are shit! But I guess that’s what you get if it’s all bought on speed and not talent, eh?” She challenged.
Malfoy sat up to face her, “Or maybe we have both. Take the Gryffindor team for example, Weaselbee, shit broom, no talent. Why is he on the team? Because he’s mates with Potter. Coincidence? I think not.”
“Ronald is not untalented. He lacks confidence!” Hermione said proudly, “Harry has the best team in the school. And you, Malfoy, are jealous!”
“Jealous? Are you being serious? What do you know about Quidditch anyway? You can’t even get on a broom. You know why, because it’s the one thing you can’t learn from a god forsaken book!” He retorted, moving towards the fireplace to pour himself a glass of firewhisky.
Hermione stood up and walked to the fireplace, “If I wanted, I could get on a broom and fly. Just because I choose not to, doesn’t mean I can’t!” She said fiercely. What are you saying? Came a voice inside Hermione’s head. You’ve never even ridden a broom.
Another voice challenged her. Oh it’s not like he would challenge me too it. I don’t have to do it, I’m only saying I can.
That’s lying. the other voice argued.
It’s an exaggeration of the truth.
“Prove it.” Came Draco’s voice to her, bringing her out of her thoughts.
“What?” She choked.
“Scared, Granger?” Malfoy smirked.
“No, of course not.”
Oh great Hermione. Look at what you’ve gone and got yourself into. That’s just bloody fantastic, now Malfoy can watch in pleasure as you fall to your death from a stick hovering in the air. That’s if you can even get it in the air.
“Completely ridiculous. Shouldn’t have to prove anything to the likes of scum like you.” Hermione Granger could be found muttering to herself, as she and Draco Malfoy were walking alongside each other down to the Quidditch pitch. Draco, with Nimbus 2001 in hand, and Hermione with one of the old school brooms.
You’ve gotten yourself into quite the predicament Hermione… If you had just stuck with me.
“Right. Granger go on, you say you can fly. Go for it.” Malfoy said as the reached the middle of the pitch. Of course, he knew that under no circumstances had the Mudblood ever in her life learnt to fly, and he was going to enjoy getting one over on her when he proved her wrong.
She got on to the broom, holding on tight.
Oh god, she’s actually going to attempt this. He thought to himself, as he got on his own broom. He thought that as much happiness as it would bring him, having her blood on his hands when she crashed or fell of the broom would not go well for him. So he mounted his on broom waiting for her to take off.
Oh god what am I doing? Just give up now Hermione. Hermione was having a war with herself inside her head.
No, if I give up it’ll just make him more smug.
So, you’d rather just see yourself get hurt, expelled or the more serious option, bloody well die, than see him get one over on you? He gets one over on you all the time.
You’re not helping.
What makes you think I can fly? You got us into this mess. You can get us out of it.
“Well, are you going to just stand there?” Draco said, he had already taken off and was hovering a few feet above her head.
Here goes nothing.
She pushed off from the ground lightly, and found herself unsteady but almost level with him. He was actually quite impressed if that really was the first time she’s ever taken off on a broom.
Wow, this is easy!
Don’t get too cocky.
She had tipped the broom upwards. And suddenly she found herself hurtling through the air, going higher and higher, gathering speed, she screamed aloud. She didn’t know how to stop. She was hurtling towards the clouds, holding on for dear life. Why did I ever agree to do this, Malfoy got his wish! She thought desperately.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, he appeared along side her. Flying at the same speed. He was screaming instructions at her. But through her own screaming she couldn’t hear him. She had just managed to catch, ‘Hold on tight’.
He slowed a little so he was behind her. And she realised what he was going to do. She held on with all her strength, hugging into the broom, and almost flattening herself across it, not realising that it was only making herself go faster.
She began to feel dizzy. Her grip was weakening. Malfoy pulled the broom straight from behind and slowed them.
She felt herself fall. Everything went black.
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