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Chosen	By : TillieJupiter Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 8284 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: In its use of intellectual property and characters of Harry Potter belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this wor

Chapter List
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Another weekend brought sighs of relief to the 7th years; now fully into their new year, the pressure of the surmounting school work was being fully appreciated—or fully resented. It was Saturday afternoon in mid-October as the group made their way to Hogsmeade for some Butterbeer. The leaves had turned red and orange and were falling from their branches. The wind swept them up into the clouds and then back down again to cover the already brittle grasses. The warm summer air that accompanied the sun in September had all but disappeared, replacing the world with a crisp breeze that brought out fall jackets.
Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Luna, and Neville all made their way down the path towards Hogsmeade. The boys’ clothing looked little different than their September clothing, though they seemed to relish in the cooler breeze that whipped through their short hair; the girls were already beginning to bundle up for the cooler months as they wore fall jackets and blue jeans. Hermione’s curly auburn hair blew in the breeze that was howling, signifying a deeper change in the weather with Halloween just around the corner.
“Where’s Ron?” Ginny asked. Her arms were wrapped around Harry’s as they walked along—the picture of the perfect couple.
“I don’t know,” Harry said. “He just disappeared after lunch.”
“Did you tell him we were going to Hogsmeade today?” Ginny asked.
“I told him.” Neville rose his hand up as if being counted for attendance as he spoke. “He didn’t really seem to be paying much attention, though.”
“Well, as long as you told him, he’ll have nothing to complain about later when he realizes he missed it,” Hermione said as she tucked her hair behind her ear in a pointless action to keep it from whipping her in the face.
“So you no longer find his insufferable complaining charming anymore, eh, Hermione?” Ginny smirked.
Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled at the girl. She shook her head in a way to demonstrate she wasn’t exactly comfortable with their conversation, though portrayed her answer to her question itself.
“Well, I hope you don’t stop finding me charming,” Harry said to Ginny as he looked over at her with a toothy smile. Ginny smiled back in kind and elbowed him a little.
“Ugh, you two,” Hermione said as she pretended to be disgusted before smiling. In truth, she was happy to see them so happy, even if their joking was at the expense of her failed relationship with Ron.
“At least young love is good for all of us,” Luna said.
“What do you mean?” Neville questioned, peering down at the girl.
“Well, usually it rubs off.” Neville watched as the girl just one year younger than he seemed to march ahead of everyone. Her statement seemed to be resolute and not open to discussion making him wonder at her true purpose behind saying it to him.
“Or not,” Hermione mumbled under her breath as the memory of her failed relationship went through her head.
She remembered it was the end of 6th year when her odyssey with her relationship with Ron began. The lack of any threats coming to fruition made everyone sigh in relief. After Ron broke up with Lavender, Harry had slipped it to Ron what had really happened when Ron was unconscious after being poisoned. At first, Ron was exasperated—unwilling to acknowledge the truth, and expressing almost regret for having ended it with Lavender. But then after some days went by, he fell to the idea of Hermione. The fact that it almost seemed as a relationship of convenience always bothered Hermione, which always seemed apparent in his attitude—unimpressive to say the least.
Back in the present, Neville held the door open for everyone as they went into Hogsmeade, which was only partially filled making finding a table easy. As they began to settle down, Neville went to the bar to get them some Butterbeer when Ginny suddenly got a look of disgust on her face.
“Gross,” she said. Her eyes were firmly placed at a dark corner of the bar. Everyone looked over to where Ginny’s eyes had settled finding Ron and Lavender snogging in the corner.
“Oh my God,” Harry slightly laughed. “He mentioned Lavender earlier, but I thought he was just expressing desperation.”
“So, this is what it felt like to see me with Dean last year,” Ginny said matter-of-factly, with the disgust still apparent on her face.
“Actually, you seem to be taking it better.” Harry laughed again as he took seat next to his girlfriend.
Suddenly, all eyes went on Hermione as if to gage her reaction. “What?” Hermione asked. Her voice conveyed her slight discomfort with all the attention she was getting.
“Does it bother you?” Ginny asked.
“Ron can do whatever he likes,” Hermione said a little too quickly, as her eyes darted away.
“Or whoever…” Harry muttered as he stood up to help Neville with their glasses of Butterbeer. Handing some of the glasses to Harry, Neville suddenly got a sight of what the group was talking about.
“Oh, so that’s what he meant earlier,” Neville said nodding his head as if learning some inane fact.
“Wouldn’t have guessed it, would you?” Harry said as he set down the glasses.
“I thought Lavender was dating some 6th year?” Neville asked as he took another glance at the snogging couple.
“Oh, I heard they broke up last week,” Luna said in her normal sing-song voice.
“I heard she found him snogging some 5th year!” Ginny said in almost an almost excited whisper, as if relishing in the gossip.
“No, she was snogging some 5th year,” Luna countered.
“Gross,” they all seemed to say in unison.
Some time later as the sun was beginning to set, the group was walking back towards Hogwarts. Ron and Lavender had left soon after Harry and company had arrived, probably feeling prying eyes on them.
“Why do you think he’d subject himself to someone he found so annoying?” Ginny asked. Her arm was laced around Harry’s again as they walked.
“I don’t think you understand men very much, Ginny,” Harry said.
Ginny smiled at him and gripped his arm a little tighter. “Well, I seem to understand you pretty well.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky to have found a girl like you,” he said smiling.
“Ugh, we get it, you’re cute!” Hermione said laughing at the pair. They were becoming pretty annoying, and as Hermione peered over at her other two companions of Luna and Neville walking together she began to worry she really was the 5th wheel of this party.
“Um, so Hermione,” Neville began after a few moments of silence—at this point it felt like he was trying to intentionally include her. “How’s being Head Girl?”
“More responsibility,” Hermione began, looking back at Neville, “but I enjoy it.”
“And Malfoy?” he asked, which was rather bold for Neville making Hermione wonder if he had been put up to it by Harry.
“Other than a few run-ins…” she said after a few moments. “It’s–” Fine? Hermione thought, but knew it was a lie. “Nothing I can’t handle,” she finished, which seemed to be her overall sentiment for everything lately. As long as she could handle it, everything was fine, right? Though, she wondered what it would be that she couldn’t actually handle at this point, since she handled seeing Ron with Lavender again.
“Can we see your dorm?” Neville suddenly asked, seeming braver than Hermione remembered.
“Yes! I want to see it so bad!” Ginny said happily, as if they were already set to go back to Hermione’s Commons.
“I don’t think so,” Hermione said warily. Somewhere between feeling overly socialized already and apprehensive about a run-in with Draco, Hermione couldn’t find it in herself to agree.
“Why? Worried about Malfoy?” Harry said bitingly.
“No!” Hermione said defensively. “He’s also a person I don’t care what he does. I’m just…tired.” Hermione lied. “I also have a lot of work to do.” At least that part was true.
“Oh, come on, Hermione! It’s Saturday night!” Ginny pleaded.
“Exactly, and I don’t have much time tomorrow to work since I have to patrol the castle tomorrow night,” Hermione explained quickly, her steps getting quicker. “In fact, I really should get back now. Bye! I had fun!” And off Hermione went quickly ahead of them, almost running.
After Hermione left her friends, she realized she actually had to go back to her dorm not wanting to get caught in the library; even if that was her normal place to do her homework, she felt it would be awkward if she saw them again, as if she was lying. Hermione did have a good amount of homework ahead of her, but in reality, she didn’t want to chance having her friends run into Draco.
If Draco had come back when she had her friends in the dorm, he of course would be confrontational and go after the person who was most likely to react: Harry. After their spat Harry would have a renewed sense of “concern”, and the reprieve they all felt from Harry’s anxieties and accusations would be over. There would also be a sense, in Harry’s mind, that Hermione obviously was over her head and needed help even if she protested.
Hermione took a deep breath as the painted people looked at her intently as if waiting for her to make a toast at their elaborate dinner party. “Lucios lemos,” she said, and the door loudly opened. As soon as that sound filled the corridor she expected to hear some masculine huff of annoyance from inside, but instead there was nothing but silence. Hermione took a step in as the painting closed behind her. The room was rather dark indicating no one was there. Taking her wand from her pocket, she whispered a spell and the candles lit in the room, which lit the ancient room with a soothing glow. Hermione felt relieved to be alone, but guilty that her fears of a confrontation between her friends and Draco were unwarranted.
Hermione took a look around the room as she unbuttoned her coat. Her hazel eyes took in the candle light and the blues, oranges, and pinks flowing through the windows near the bookcases from the setting sun. She decided the room was too quiet as she set her coat on the back of the loveseat. Hermione took her wand firmly in hand and pointed it at the fireplace, and a stream of fire illuminated out the tip and into the waiting logs. Bellows of fire suddenly sprung upwards with a roar setting the room ablaze with warm colors.
“That’s better,” Hermione said softly as she grabbed her coat and made her way up into her room to change.
As she opened the Gryffindor-bannered door, the setting sunlight that flooded through the stone windows across from her bed lit her room up with a mystical light—even in times of wizardry, nature still provided some of the most magical moments. A wistful smile appeared on Hermione’s lips as she set her wand down on the nightstand and went over to the window to look out.
High up in the tower, the vistas were magnificent with the rusted colors of the leaves covering the muted greens of the grasses below. She watched as the wind picked up the leaves and made them dance. The sun, which was almost completely covered by the proliferated blanket of clouds that always seemed to settle in the twilight, birthed the ruminating dusk colors that encompassed the world. Hermione’s hazels eyes became clouded with the reflective wonder she felt as she looked out, pacified by the vision before her yet still melancholy as the day ended before her eyes. She let out a sigh as she leaned into the wall with her weight and folded her arms over the windowsill.
The past year had gone by so quickly. Just a year ago, they still felt the pains of losing Sirius Black; Harry’s green eyes were always stormy with anger and pain those days. How Harry must feel with Draco here after what happened—Draco’s father still in Azkaban and Bellatrix Lestrange still free. Could Hermione blame Harry? Though, as she felt last year, the anger he had was probably not well directed if put towards Draco—even she believed that Draco had little to do with Voldemort and his plans, even if his family was so intimately involved. Though Harry had tried to convince her and Ron of Draco being a Death Eater, of all things, there was no proof. In fact, Harry following Draco around seemed even more worrisome, especially when it ended in Harry almost killing Draco in the bathroom.
However, Hermione knew Harry didn’t intend to nearly kill Draco. At the time, he did not know what the spell written in the Half-Blood Prince’s book would do. “For enemies” it indicated in eloquent writing, which Draco was in Harry’s mind. But this spell was far more powerful than any of those he had really learned before. The look of shock and almost regret on Harry’s face afterwards told her that he was being true. “But I saw something in his eyes,” Harry finally told her, as if it was some excuse. Still many months later this statement still crosses his lips as if they held meaning, but to someone who wasn’t there it just sounds like paranoid babbling.
After the incident in the boy’s bathroom, Harry did seem different. It was almost as if his exertion of aggression cleared his soul a little. His suspicion for Draco waned as the year came to a peaceful end and some of his feelings of dread that seemed to follow the boy fell deeper into him—especially as young love took over. But when Draco became Head Boy, the same anger and aggression boiled within him. Unlike Ron, Harry’s anger came from suspicion and a loss of control; his hate for the new Head Boy was rooted in a hate for Voldemort himself. Ron, on the other hand, felt anger for how the past year had treated his family as well—the loss of their home and the closing of Fred and George’s shop by the Ministry for unauthorized magic—and obviously some sexual jealousy and possessiveness of Hermione. The look in his eyes that showed anger and fear for the proximity that Hermione and Draco would hold showed alarm that the Head Boy would display some sort of sexual dominance that would make Ron the one without—of course most of the interactions of boys dealt with an alpha/beta mentality.
Hermione huffed at the idea—the idea in itself was terribly antiquated; as if Hermione was nothing more than property to be fought over. Additionally, the idea that the word “Malfoy” and “sex” would be in the same sentence having to deal with Hermione was disturbing, to say the least; though, it wasn’t strange to have those words in a sentence in general. Draco obviously was sexually involved with women, and it would appear he was involved with many in his way of referring to them as “bitches” (and through Hermione’s own experience of witnessing it). Again, Hermione shook her head at the antiquated misogyny of it all. At first, she thought it was hard to even imagine him in that light, but then her mind began to wander…
The sun was almost completely set, the hues of pink and purple shifting into a majestic blue as night fell. Her bedroom was almost completely dark except for the blue light that came in through the window and bathed Hermione in it.
In the dying light, a set of gray eyes peered from the doorway. Draco stood there and looked at the girl with her wistful look as her attention was to the disappearing daylight. The dorm was silent except for the crackles that broke from the fireplace down in the Common Room below. He found himself captured by her, having never really seen her silent before; every interaction they ever had where he had to look at her for an extended period of time was filled with disgust, anger, annoyance, and sometimes hurt. The calm and quiet that she exuded, furthering the tranquil ambience of their environment, filled Draco with peace. For a moment, he didn’t analyze his actions or scold himself—his need for a moment of peace and quiet without those thoughts overwhelmed him.
Draco felt as if he was looking at a beautiful painting in a museum, or maybe even in the castle—not that he ever took the time to really appreciate them. The colors that washed in through the window painted across her alabaster skin and her auburn hair, as the ever disappearing light hushed her intricate pigment tonality. Even from his point of view, he could see her hazel eyes glossy with the azure vistas she drank in.
After a few minutes went by, the calm in Draco’s mind began to wane; the thoughts flooded his head when he realized what he was doing. As he mentally chastised himself, something within told him to not ruin the beautiful painting he had come upon and he slinked back into the darkness without disturbing her. For once he cared, as he wanted her to enjoy the tranquility he had enjoyed even if for a few more moments.

“Ron!” Harry called on the way to breakfast Sunday morning as he caught Ron in the hallway.
Ron turned around and waved at his friend appearing a little more peppy than usual. “Hey, Harry!” Ron smiled a goofy smile.
“I was wondering where you were; I didn’t see you last night before bed…Did you come in after hours?” Harry asked. Ron nodded his head with that same goofy smile on his face. “…Were you out this Lavender?”
“Oh, you know!” Ron said, letting out what seemed to be dreamy sigh.
“Uh, well, it was hard not to after seeing you two snogging at Hogsmeade yesterday,” Harry said.
“Isn’t it great?” Ron asked as he began to walk—through it seemed as if he was floating.
Harry ran a few steps to catch up with his him. “I mean, it’s a bit sudden. I thought you were joking yesterday,” Harry admitted as he chuckled to himself.
“Well, I sort of was. But then it just happened,” Ron began. “I ran into Lavender in the courtyard just after hearing that she and Dale broke up. It just seemed like perfect timing, and suddenly we were on our way to Hogsmeade together, and the rest is history.”
“Well, that’s great and all,” Harry began, the question already in his voice, “but what about last time? Wasn’t she a pain?”
“I was young then, Harry!” Ron scolded, hitting his friend on his back a little too hard, as if to convey some sort of sense adult masculinity. “I didn’t know what I was missing!”
A slight look of disgust went over Harry’s face. “That’s probably more than I needed to know.”
“Don’t be such a child, Harry!” Ron scolded again, as he puffed his chest out with a confidence like the time he thought he had Liquid Luck streaming through his veins before his first Quidditch tournament. “This is what being a man is all about!”
“Snogging in a bar and coming home after curfew?” Harry amusingly questioned.
“Exactly!” Ron agreed, patting Harry again too hard on his back.
Ron, goofy on pheromones, continued walking and Harry just stopped as he watched his love-sick, or lust-sick, friend glide into the Great Hall. Harry shouldn’t have been so perturbed by his friend’s new romance, but Harry wondered first where Ron’s hand had last been and if he should change his shirt now.

That night Draco and Hermione were to traipse the castle in the pitch black hours when the students should be sleeping. Even though Professor McGonagall had wanted them to patrol together because of what had happened with the Slytherin 5th year some weeks ago, Hermione had convinced the professor that she was capable on her own. Even though Draco let out a snort at her conviction, he didn’t protest since he himself enjoyed the silence and solitude of his Sunday rounds.
Draco made his way through the corridors, his wand lazily lit as he went along. He kept his wand low, trusting his vision to catch anything out of the ordinary, and wanting to keep his eyes adjusted to the darkness without glare. As he passed by windows he would look out onto the grounds to view the moonlight cascading over the land. In these moments, when he could capture the magnificence of nature, he would feel the same calm he relished in whenever it would fall upon him. The moments were always fleeting, so he tried to focus on them. It had become his meditation—something he required after the incident in the boys bathroom last year that nearly ended in his blood running down the shower drains.
The night had been quiet as most of the students were too tired from classes to stay out after dark. Draco spent these couple hours trying not to think much, using the time of solitude to try and leave himself—becoming the blackness that surrounded him, dispersing through the immense castle, only to be interrupted by moonlight. He made his footsteps as light as air, sometimes walking in pure darkness just listening to the empty halls. But then his thoughts were interrupted as Draco heard a feminine voice off in the distance, the pitch immediately identified as Hermione. “–I told you, you have to go back to your dorm.”
Draco hurried his steps, letting his wands light die out so he could plunge into the darkness around him.
“Do you think I’m going to listen to a Mudblood?” as masculine voice bit out.
Draco sighed to himself. Another Slytherin out after dark, Draco thought—something that did not look good for him or his House.
“Do not think you get to use that type of language with me. I am your superior–” she began.
Draco had finally come upon their sight when he rounded a corner, but he made sure to hide behind the wall just peering over as he gripped his wand in ready, if needed. Which of course she’ll need my help, he thought bitterly to himself.
“My superior?!” the boy seethed as he interrupted her. It was a 6th year that Draco couldn’t quite remember the name of at the moment. “Your kind will never be anything but a tragedy of the magical world, until…” the boy trailed off.
There was a moment of silence, as the boys dark eyes glimmered in pure hatred at Hermione; his eyes seemed to complete the last words he didn’t have the courage to say. But then he began to speak again.
“Volde–” at the beginning of word, Draco felt his body lunge out but stopped when he saw Hermione’s wand at the boy’s throat.
“Don’t even say it.” Hermione’s voice was dark as her presence seemed to bore into him. Draco wondered to himself what her eyes must look like then, though he was sure he’d seen such anger in her eyes, though it could be different when not directed at him.
“If you value your time here, then you better show some respect to those that hold the keys to your ability to walk these halls,” she warned, though wasn’t clear by her meaning.
Draco was impressed as he slinked back behind the wall, an amused smile actually coming to his face. Though the boy’s words and actions were of course concerning, for a moment he let Hermione’s ability to defend herself intrigue him.
“You will report back to the Head of your House tomorrow for reprimand,” she seethed poking him deeper in his neck as she pushed him back. The boy glared at her silently, but backed away from her and then turned around to go back to his dorm which was nearby.
Though Draco stood fascinated by the scene he had witnessed, he silently took note that maybe she should no longer patrol near Slytherin. Not only was it getting her into possibly dangerous positions, but the members of his House seemed to be getting more aggressive, and losing their sense of propriety when faced with the Muggle-born Head Girl. He wondered if it was simply a reaction to her appointment or to the impending change in the world around that most without dark influence wouldn’t know.
Even though Draco had happened upon the confrontation, he never mentioned it to Hermione, though he did hear about it from Snape. The idea of providing further accolades to the witch seemed to make him uncomfortable, especially at how often his thoughts of her seemed to be more pleasant than usual, which was a disturbing change in his usually dark and troubled mind. Or, at least, he liked to further his perturbed feeling to quench his sense of discipline.

“Concentrate, Draco!” Snape’s booming voice called out from the deluge of swirling lights and visions as Draco’s head screamed.
It felt like his skull was ripping in half, which took all of Draco’s concentration not to cry out—his chest burning from his suppressed breaths. Macerated scenes ripped through his mind, which left diamond cuts in the raw flesh of his brain as they went, searing his vision with sharp explosions of light and what appeared as blood. “I-I can’t!” Draco called out finally as he fought hard within his mind and soul.
“You must!” Snape simply yelled, and the pain seemed to sear through him even more as the intensity of Snape’s omnipresent power surged.
Draco cried out in the chair, his arms gripping the arm rests with so much force he felt as if the wood could crumble within his grasp. His face was contorted in pain, making him an unrecognizable victim of what seemed like torture. Beads of sweat gathered on his brow, his skin even paler than normal, and his cheeks turning red from the strain of his trapped breath. He felt his calm and energy being drained from his as the pain and vision became crushing by the second.
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