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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
- 4
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Large snowflakes were falling out on the Quidditch field, dotting the green grasses below the on-going Slytherin practice. The sun was beginning to set in the winter sky, and the temperature was quickly falling. There was supposed to be a snow storm that night that would fully blanket the Hogwarts grounds.
“That’ll be all for today!” yelled Captain Urquhart as he came gliding down to the ground. The rest of the team started their descent down to the field after a particular hard day of practice. “Malfoy, come here,” Captain Urquhart called.
Draco looked particularly ragged—even his simple floating movements on the broom to the ground looked sluggish; when his feet met the ground, it looked as if he might topple over, but his legs caught him in time. His pale face looked up towards Urquhart, who did not look very pleased, as he gestured for Draco to come to him. Draco walked, almost limping, towards his Captain, already sporting a look of aggravation that was typical of the Malfoy boy.
“You called?” Draco said mockingly.
“Yeah, I did, Malfoy. And for once you actually seemed to hear me,” Urquhart said, obviously annoyed.
“Look, it’s been a good run and all, but I don’t think you’re fit for this,” he quickly explained.
“What?! You’re kicking me off the team?!” Draco asked furiously.
“Honestly, you’ve been rubbish since last year, and I just can’t excuse it anymore,” Urquhart explained, actually appearing to be a little sympathetic.
“You can’t just kick me off mid-season. I’m Head Boy! You don’t even have anyone to–” Draco began, but then a look of realization appeared on his face. “You’ve found another Seeker, haven’t you?” Draco sneered.
“What did you expect me to do, Malfoy? Just let you stay on the team because of your father? In fact, you’re lucky I let you stay at all since he went into Azkaban,” Urquhart defended.
“Don’t talk about my father, Urquhart. You’ll never be anything compared to my family line; don’t think just because you’re Captain of the bloody Quidditch team that it actually means anything,” Draco said darkly, with his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Fine, enjoy your stupid game,” he said as he ripped his Slytherin patch off his uniform roughly and handed it to Urquhart. “And next time you say something about my father, I’ll make sure your Quidditch days are over,” Draco threatened. His face was mere inches from the other boy’s as he stared him down before walking away with his nose turned up.
On his way back to the castle, as he quickly stomped through the courtyard, he suddenly dropped his broom and grabbed a stone bench and hoisted it in the air with a loud yell and slammed it down, breaking it into pieces. Draco fumed for a moment as he in took deep breaths, his veins bulging from his face and neck, before picking up his broom and leaving. Students that were there to witness the spectacular display of angered strength quickly got out of the way of the furious Slytherin Head Boy.
“Did you hear what happened?!” Ginny gushed excitedly at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. She had just come running in and leaned over to talk secretly to her friends—as was protocol when disseminating gossip. It was dinner time, and Hermione was just sitting down when the scene began.
“No?” Neville said curiously.
Ginny quickly sat down next to Harry and leaned forward. Harry, Ron, and Neville all leaned forward and Hermione off-handedly observed in slight interest; Ginny was gossiping a lot, so it wasn’t unusual for her to be excitedly telling the group some news she learned—since she was younger, she received more of the gossip from the younger students in her classes. However, this time Ginny did seem particularly tickled by the news.
“So, I just heard that Malfoy got kicked off the Slytherin Quidditch team!” she finally exclaimed. All three boys face went agape with astonishment.
“No way!” Ron cried out.
“Where did you hear this?” Neville asked—always the skeptical one.
“Everyone’s talking about it,” she said as her eyes darted back and forth to indicate that many of the same conversations were happening around them.
Hermione looked around and noticed that a lot of the same conversations were actually happening, and some other groups in the other Houses, except Slytherin, were laughing at the news—many were obviously not very big fans of the Slytherin prince.
“What happened?!” Harry asked enthusiastically.
“Apparently, he’s been really slacking in games and practices. I mean, it’s been pretty obvious, don’t you think?” Ginny asked.
“I’m not sure they can really give a fair answer to that one, Ginny,” Hermione suddenly interjected—it almost sounded like she was defending him. The group looked over at her with a slight look of confusion, but then ignored her.
“How’d he react?” Ron asked excitedly—he seemed to want to know all the gory details.
“I heard he pulled a bench from the courtyard and destroyed it!” Ginny exclaimed.
“Was that the rubble I saw on my way here?” Luna suddenly interjected as she sat down and joined the conversation; though she was not part of their House, she was curious what their conversation was about when she passed by her friends.
“You saw it?!” Neville asked, appearing to become excited about the news as well as Luna joining the discussion.
“I guess so. Where a bench use to be was just a pile of rubble; the stone underneath it was even cracked,” Luna explained casually as she nodded her head.
“Bloody hell, he must have been pissed!” Ron commented, almost appearing impressed at the strength it would take for such a physical feat.
“Susan Bones actually saw him do it. She said he let out a furious yell and looked like he wanted to hex someone!” Ginny laughed.
“That’s amazing!” Ron laughed with his sister.
“Wait. Did they find another Seeker?” Harry suddenly asked.
“I don’t know—I suppose they had to have,” Ginny answered.
The group continued on their conversation as they elated in all the little details of the story, even repeating parts. Hermione was the only one who sat there who appeared to be unimpressed by the news. With curiosity, Hermione leaned to her right a little to see if she could see Draco across the hall at the Slytherin table, but he wasn’t there. Somewhere inside her, Hermione actually felt a little bad for Draco. She decided to eat her dinner quickly and go back to her dorm. Part of her was worried he could be wreaking havoc on their quarters after what he had done in the courtyard, and another part of her actually felt concern for the Slytherin Head Boy.
After Hermione finished her dinner, she got Harry’s attention as she got ready to leave. “Harry,” Hermione said, getting his attention. Harry turned his attention to Hermione as he munched on a biscuit. “Since I didn’t get to see you earlier, I wanted to tell you that I found something in the library we should talk about at some point. But I should probably get back to my dorm, just to make sure it’s still there,” Hermione mused for Harry’s benefit, though she didn’t really find it to be funny.
“Okay. How about we talk about it after breakfast tomorrow?” Harry said after swallowing his food.
“Sounds good. Have a good night everyone.” Hermione smiled as she met eyes with her other friends that looked over at her as she stood up to leave, sans Luna who had gone back to her House table.
“Hermione!” Harry suddenly called as he turned around before she was too far to hear him. Hermione turned around and looked at her friend.
“Be careful with Malfoy,” Harry warned.
“I’ll be fine,” Hermione said firmly, but offered a small smile of reassurance.
“Now, Draco, I can’t have Slytherin students, let alone our Head Boy, destroying Hogwarts property,” Snape scolded as he sat at his desk with a bored expression on his face as he watched Draco.
Draco was pacing in Snape’s office, obviously still agitated from the news of his dismissal from the Slytherin Quidditch team. “Oh, screw that! The real problem is me getting kicked off the Quidditch team. Me!” Draco exclaimed, stopping to flail his arm in an exasperated motion. “How could you have let them do that?!” he cried to his Head of House.
“Do you really think I care about sports?” Snape replied calmly.
“Well, maybe you can fix it–” Draco began, bargaining.
“Draco,” Snape interjected. “As far as I am concerned, this development is a positive one—maybe you can focus your energy elsewhere now.”
“To what?! Your bloody training?!” Draco exclaimed, becoming more agitated. “At least with Quidditch it was something I liked!”
“Oh, please, the only reason you liked that insufferable game was because it made you more popular,” Snape explained gruffly.
Draco looked surprised at his professor’s cynicism and started to protest.
“Besides, you weren’t doing the team any good, were you? How long do you think it was going to be until people wondered why your performance had weakened so?” Snape asked.
“I wasn’t that bad–” Draco began defensively.
“You’ve been showing obvious weakness since last year,” Snape quickly quipped.
“I thought you didn’t like sports?” Draco replied sarcastically.
“Well, when it comes to you possibly raising suspicion on your behavior, I am very interested, even if that has to do with Quidditch,” Snape clarified.
“Well, great, what am I supposed to do now?!” Draco shouted in exasperation as he paced. “What are people going to think?!” he exclaimed, flailing his arms as he displayed his agitation.
“Please, Draco, calm yourself,” Snape chided lowly. When Draco turned to look at him, Snape extended his hand to gesture for Draco to sit down. Draco sighed in irritation, but then sat down roughly.
“Now,” Snape began coolly. “I supposed with your little tantrum in the courtyard everyone already fully knows the details of your dismissal,” Snape explained. Draco huffed annoyingly and crossed his arms over his chest. “As the Head of your House, I’m officially taking 10 points from Slytherin.”
“What?!” Draco protested loudly, flailing his arms in incredulity, to which Snape held his hand up to silence him.
“I also warn you that any more acting out—or retaliation—will be punished,” Snape continued. Draco sank further in the chair, as he crossed his arms in a gesture of useless protest.
“When it comes to your ego, might I propose that maybe you put too much value on your status as a Quidditch Seeker and maybe you should simply accept that your accomplishments here at Hogwarts, though they are great, are not real reflections on your true purpose and value,” Snape carefully explained, his voice rising in pitch as he spoke to indicate there was deeper meaning to his statement.
“Yeah, as a puppet,” Draco said under his breath.
“What did you say?” Snape queried, his voice becoming low in warning.
“Nothing,” Draco replied coldly, and then he stared off angrily.
“So, with that, I encourage you to quickly get over this meaningless setback and move on. You, after all, do have a lot of other responsibilities and I’m sure the extra time—and energy—will be good for you,” Snape explained.
“All I have is responsibility,” Draco said coldly.
“Welcome to adulthood,” Snape retorted miserably.
“Lucios lemos,” Hermione recanted softly to the portrait door in front of her quarters. The door swung open, and Hermione was met with nothing but darkness. She walked in quietly and slowly, her eyes looking over the room for any signs that anyone was there, but she was alone. With a sigh of relief, she took her wand from her pocket and waved it to light the candles in the room, which brought a comfortable glow to the Heads’ Common Room.
She walked in and set her books down on the couch near the fire before shrugged off her robe. Maybe, she thought, Malfoy will be out for the night. Sitting down on the couch, she drew her wand and fire shot out of it and into the fire, setting it ablaze. Hermione extended her legs over the couch and sat back in repose as she looked into the fire for a moment of relaxation.
As she stared at the flickering and dancing streams of fire, her eyes glazed over in thought. Just the day before, Draco had insulted her calling into question Hermione’s sense of confidence—both as a woman and a witch. Though, Hermione thought, what was new? It had seemed that the exchange with Draco had appeared more sudden and harsh than she remembered most of their quarrels had been before—this time he seemed to go right for the jugular, as it were, of her emotions. With the news about his dismissal from the Slytherin Quidditch team, Hermione wondered if Draco’s impending discharge had anything to do with his sudden aggression. Part of her asked why it even mattered what the cause of his cruelty was, but within her she felt like it did matter.
Ever since they had become Head Boy and Girl, Hermione was beginning to feel like she was experiencing the true ups and downs that were Draco Malfoy. She had experienced his cruelty, his coldness, and even a little of his vulnerability; the last couple of months were really beginning to paint him as a more complex person. Though last year Hermione did notice his change in attitude and even appearance—sometimes looking as if he was sick—this was not immediately apparent to anyone else around her. It seemed Hermione was a little more perceptive to Draco; however, maybe she was giving herself undue credit since she compared herself to Harry and Ron, who had nothing but hate for the boy. But then Hermione questioned, Shouldn’t I only have hate for him too?
All the years of bullying and the history of his family’s influence with the Dark Lord flooded Hermione’s mind, but she remembered what she had said last year: there was no proof that Draco was even remotely part of his family’s activities with the Death Eaters. Hermione believed that it was irrational to think Draco had become one. In fact, she had noted, his melancholy attitude displayed more anguish over his separated family after his father went to Azkaban, which might indicate some shame for his father’s activities; whenever his father was brought up, Draco was quick to become defensive. Prior to this, he was proud to flaunt his father and his familial status to anyone and everyone, and now the mere mention made him furious. Hermione remembered the last time she mentioned his father, and found herself in a very vulnerable position with the Head Boy—something she hoped never would happen again. But through it all, she was optimistic, even in the face of skepticism in the form of Harry’s paranoia, that Draco Malfoy, though rude, was not evil, and not worthy of complete hate like Harry and Ron would argue.
Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the lurching sound of the portrait door beginning to open, indicating that Draco had returned. In a bizarre panic, Hermione found herself jumping to her feet and bounding up the stairs and into her bedroom where she hid behind the door, just leaving it open a crack. As she peered out and watched Draco slowly dredge into the Common Room, Hermione wondered what had made her hide from the Head Boy. Then, remembering his words from yesterday, she settled in her mind that her actions, though dramatic, were possibly warranted. Unexpectedly, she found herself watching him from the crack in her door, drawn to the scene, her hazel eyes following his form from above.
Draco had walked in slowly, though he appeared to not take in the room around him to see if Hermione was there or not. He looked disconsolate with his shoulders low, and his face was pale and melancholy. He threw his broom down on the floor uncaringly and started to disrobe. At first, Hermione felt embarrassed as she watched, unable to tear her eyes away, but was relieved when he stopped before revealing anything private; she did note, however, after he unbuttoned the top buttons on his shirt, that the top of his chiseled chest was showing, which she would never admit she focused on longer than she should have. As he threw his discarded clothes over the couch, she realized that he covered up her robe—which was probably one of the only obviously indicators that Hermione was in fact in their quarters, other than the lights, but it could be assumed they were left lit earlier. He made his way to the couch and lay down on it, extending his legs out and resting them over the end of the arm rest; his position was similar to the one Hermione had just been in moments prior, she noted, but his long body required more room to stretch out. There he looked into the fire just as she did, presumably in thought.
Hermione watched from above, unsure why she was at all. However, she found there was something fascinating by watching the Slytherin Prince in his “natural state”—she almost felt like an anthropologist of pure-blood fuckboys. This was the infamous Draco Malfoy, unfiltered in his failure. Many had been around to see his outburst in the courtyard, his fury now the talk of the whole school, but she had the opportunity to see him like no one else did. For a moment, Hermione thought about how Harry and Ron would delight in Draco’s torment, and realized it was cruel of her to do so—which she had to admit she was, in her mind, making somewhat a mockery of it.
Realizing her view was slightly obscured from her position, Hermione kneeled down on the floor to look through the stone banisters where she could just see his face. The flickering flames flashed on his face, and she found herself mesmerized as she pressed her cheek against the door sill. His brow was slightly furrowed and his mouth was downturned as he miserably looked on past the fire and into his own troubled mind. His eyes, though she could only see the sides, reflected the fire purely. And the
Hermione realized it—there were tears in his eyes. There weren’t enough for them to fall, but they were gathered enough to make his eyes glossy and reflective. Though Hermione had seen the boy cry before, those times it had always seemed to be a show to garner attention. Here, privately in their quarters, where he thought he was alone, Hermione witnessed true emotion from the very Draco Malfoy.
As Hermione continued to watch from behind her door, kneeled down and peering through a banister of the stairway, his display, though subtle, started to make her actually feel pity for the boy. No, not pity, she corrected, sympathy. Deep down, she had probably always felt some pity for Draco—his father being overbearing, and his right to a unique identity outside of his name impossible—but it was the first time that she actually felt sympathy for him; with pity, she looked down upon his life and experiences as someone outside her level of success and maturity as a person, but with sympathy, she actually felt understanding and even compassion for him. In that moment, instead of being the Draco Malfoy who had bullied and harassed her and her friends through the years, he had become a person of thoughts and feelings; he went from an enigma of malice, who seemed to exist merely to torment (or fuck) others, to a person of insight, experience, and purpose.
Down below, Draco brought his hands to his eyes where he seemed to wipe away those languishing tears and let out a dejected sigh, as his body became even more weak and fallen in his stance. Hermione wondered what he was thinking about, and what demons he was wrestling with behind those gray eyes.
In Hermione’s mind, Draco Malfoy had suddenly become a person. Within her she had always struggled with the idea of humanizing him, as she always tried to see the good in him, but lacked the actually proof that he was more than a conceited tormenter. Now, in front of her, was proof of his humanity.

“Harry!” Hermione called. She looked a little irritated as she approached him.
“Hermione,” Harry greeted. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You never met me after breakfast,” she said, displaying her annoyance.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I completely forgot,” he said dismissively.
“Well, I thought you wanted to know what I found in the library,” she said.
“Sure, sure, tell me,” he said quickly.
“I found some information on ‘Spiritual Displacement’,” Hermione explained, even if she didn’t have his full attention—at least if she told him he wouldn’t have any right to complain later if the information became prudent.
“‘Spiritual What’?” Harry questioned.
“‘Spiritual Displacement’,” she said a little slower. “‘The act of displacing your spiritual energy to inhabit another space, like objects and people,’” she quoted in her normal matter-of-fact tone.
“So, like Tom Riddle’s diary?” Harry ventured.
“Probably—and maybe even Professor Quirrell. But I think this might be the information that Dumbledore is searching for,” Hermione said. “The only problem is that there are various types of this displacement—we just need to know the specific type he’s using now.”
“Does it have any names of these types?” Harry asked.
“No, unfortunately. It just talked about them generically. I’ll probably have to do some more searching now that I have somewhat of a lead,” she said slightly disappointedly.
“Well, I have a feeling Dumbledore might already have a lead on that one, anyways,” Harry replied quickly.
“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.
“He’s gone again,” Harry replied.
“Who? Dumbledore?”
“Yeah. I went to go talk to him again. I’m thinking about using my Liquid Luck to get the information out of Professor Slughorn, but I wanted his advice first,” Harry explained. Over Hermione’s shoulder Harry locked eyes with someone as students bustled about on their way to classes.
“Harry, do you not think the information I found is important?” Hermione asked boldly, her brow furrowed at his demeanor.
Harry locked eyes with Hermione, understanding she was picking up on his distracted behavior. “I’m sorry, Hermione, but without Dumbledore there isn’t much we can do with any information we obtain, anyways,” he explained. Harry’s eyes went somewhere behind her again and Hermione turned around to look—it was Ginny, of course.
“Oh, I see,” Hermione said softly.
“Look, Hermione, I have to go. Good work, though! I’ll talk to you later!” Harry said quickly as he went off towards Ginny.
Hermione watched her friend go and wondered if his relationship with Ginny and change in attitude was a good thing; Harry seemed to be less concerned with the Order, the impending war, and even Draco as of late—though, with the last one, Hermione was grateful. Feeling the page she found in the library in her pocket, she wondered if Harry was right and that her efforts, in general, were useless. Then, Hermione remembered that Harry was fickle—one moment he’d be wafting in teenage innocence and the next obsessing about his fears of the future. She knew she should keep researching what she could, though with Dumbledore gone it appeared they were at a standstill, again. At this rate, Harry wouldn’t even pursue more information from Professor Slughorn without consulting Dumbledore first; the Liquid Luck Harry had been awarded last year in Potions obviously meant more to him than she realized, making him apprehensive to use it. It appeared there was something in Harry’s life that was just as important as his pursuit for information of the Dark Lord, and it was the in the form of one Ginny Weasley.
As the couple left, Ginny waving to her and Hermione reciprocating, Hermione smiled—yes, Ginny was a good thing in Harry’s life. He finally had prospective, especially with how quiet things have been on the war front. For all they knew, they could complete their time at Hogwarts and maybe even get to live their lives for a while before anything else happened. Pushing the paper deeper in her pocket, Hermione reminded herself that this applied to her life as well. Though, she was honestly unsure what she had outside of her studies, which made her feel slightly melancholy.
At that moment, her thoughts went back to the night before as she watched—well, spied, she thought—on Draco in the Common Room in his distress. The way her mind flowed straight to him bothered her a little as her subconscious made a strange connection between her thoughts as she watched her two amorous friends go and to the Slytherin Prince, but she pushed that suspicious voice aside. Now with Draco off the Slytherin Quidditch team, what was it that Draco had as well? Then, Hermione remembered the parade of women he enjoyed and quickly shook her head with a huff, and turned to go on her way to go about her day.

“Oh yes, fuck me!” Pansy cried out as Draco thrust deep into her, quickly and precisely. Their bodies glistened in the candle light and the sound of their quick, labored breathing filled the air. The Slytherin bedding of Draco’s bed was strewn about them as their naked bodies neared the end of their lurid activities.
As he neared his climax, Draco buried his head in her dark, straight hair as one of his hands gripped the bedsheets beneath them and the other cupped one of Pansy’s breasts. Pansy held tightly to the headboard that nearly pounded against the wall.
“I want you to cum,” Pansy moaned as she wrapped her legs around Draco’s hips.
A few moments later, Draco let out a gruff moan into her hair and his thrusting began to stagger and then stopped. They lay there taking in quick breaths as their bodies started to recover from their exertion.
After a few moments, Pansy’s dark eyes darted around the room in a slight confusion. “Um, are you going to get out of me?” she asked as she nudged his head slightly with hers.
Draco sat up and looked down at her with what appeared to be a slight smile—a look Pansy rarely saw from her longtime fuck buddy in any context. He then pulled out of her and lay down next to her. They both stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before Pansy sat up and started to get dressed. Draco rolled over and watched her.
“Why don’t you stay awhile?” he asked as he watched her naked body as she pulled on her underwear.
Pansy looked up at him with a slightly amused, curious look on her face before laughing. “Yeah, sure,” she said sarcastically, thinking he was joking.
“No, I’m serious,” Draco said, maintaining his pleasant look on his face.
As she put her bra on Pansy looked over at him with a less amused, incredulous look. “Um, no,” she said firmly.
Draco’s face immediately fell into his normal scowl, though he sported a slightly embarrassed look. “Fine,” he said coldly, and lay back down on his back to stare at the ceiling. If Pansy didn’t know any better, it appeared as if Draco was hurt.
“You’re acting strange,” Pansy noted with a slight incredulous laugh as she pulled up her skirt and hooked it. “What’s gotten in to you?”
“Nothing,” he answered coldly, and then turned his back toward her. “Close the door on the way out,” he said gruffly, indicating the end of their conversation.
“Fine,” Pansy said slowly as she quickly threw on her shirt and slipped her shoes back on. As she left, she didn’t say another word and simply shut the door softly to the Head Boy’s room.
Draco stared at the wall angrily with his jaw clenched as she left him there naked and alone.
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