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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
The sun was setting outside the castle, and in the boy’s Gryffindor dorm room there were no bustling students getting ready for dinner as per usual. Instead, Ron and Lavender lay in Ron’s bed post-coital. Jammed in the single bed, Ron took over a majority of the bed (with room to spare) leaving Lavender teetering on the edge.
Lavender sat with her arms crossed over her bra-clad chest and seemed to display some annoyance in her uncomfortable position. Ron lay naked in his bed with the blanket pulled up to his waist as he blissfully ate candies loudly with his chewing echoed in the empty room.
“Want any?” he offered as the sugar cubes rolled around in his wide open trap of a mouth.
Lavender quickly shook her head and her long blond curls shimmered over her shoulder in chaos. With that answer, Ron suddenly leaned over and grabbed some more snacks in his nightstand.
“Ah!” Lavender’s high-pitched voice screamed as she fell off the bed with a loud thud.
Ron obliviously turned over with candies in hand and peered over at her. “Alright there?” he asked with some humor.
Quickly, Lavender stood up and flipped her long locks over her head in exasperation. “That’s it!” she cried out.
“That’s what?” Ron asked as he popped more sweets in his mouth.
“I can’t take this anymore!” she cried in a huff as she stood there naked from the waist down.
“What are you cryin’ on all about?” Ron asked with confusion.
“What am I 'cryin’ on all about?!’” Lavender began in a high-pitched, sarcastic tone. “You, Ron! I can’t take this relationship—if you can call it that—anymore!”
“What?!” Ron exclaimed as he sat up quickly in bed.
Lavender started to gather up her clothes that had been quickly shed, except for the bra she still wore, and started to put them on.
“I don’t know what I was thinking when I got back together with you,” she huffed as if talking to herself as she put her underwear on and hitched her skirt up. “You’re just as selfish as you ever were, but now you’ve managed to make even sex boring!”
“Boring?! I think I’m alright!” he defended.
“Oh, really?!” she cried out as she bore her eyes into him. “I’m still wearing a bra, and it’s been, what, 5 minutes, maybe?!” she hollered.
“I told you, I only got the guys to leave for a little bit…” Ron weakly defended.
“You’re so selfish all you care about is your gratification,” she continued to huff as she pulled on her blouse. “But guess what, Ron?” she mocked as she peered at him. “Sex involves two people! Perhaps all these years wanking it has made you forget that!”
Thirty minutes later as the students were making their way to dinner, Ron was talking to Neville outside the Great Hall. “Yeah, she broke it off with me right there! After all the trouble I went through to get you blokes to leave!” Ron spat angrily.
“I’m sorry, mate,” Neville said sympathetically. “Did she say why?”
“Well, between me and you, she said I was selfish and a bore,” Ron explained, laughing incredulously. Intentionally, he left out key details on how this affected his sex life. “And then she said something really strange,” Ron began. “She said ‘I couldn’t find the clitoris if my life depended on it.’ I’m telling you, she’s mental. What the hell—and where the hell—is ‘the clitoris’?” Ron exclaimed.
At that very moment, Seamus walked by and caught the very end of the conversation. Immediately, his mouth went agape and eyes went wide with bewildered amusement and he broke into a sprint into the Great Hall as if this new information gave him flight. “You won’t believe what I just heard!” Seamus announced as he went over to the Gryffindor table. Students were still filtering into the Great Hall and barely any Professors were present, making the room rather quiet. Most of the Gryffindor students, and even some of the nearby students of different Houses, looked up in anticipation for what sounded like some juicy gossip. “Lavender broke up with Ron, and it was because he couldn’t find ‘the clitoris’!” Seamus mocked as he put quotes around the anatomical wonder. Various students, particularly the older ones, broke out in amused laughter. Nearby, Hermione watched the scene in awe.
Ron and Neville walked into the Great Hall and everyone who had heard the conversation—which was most of the students—looked at Ron as he entered. Neville already seemed slightly embarrassed as he walked in with his head lowered, and Ron seemed flustered—possibly from the information he’d received from his well-read friend on his question about the female anatomy. Immediately, Ron felt their eyes on him and walked up to Seamus who was the only one standing up at the Gryffindor table. “What’s up?” Ron asked cautiously.
Seamus tried to calm himself to steady his words and voice from the laughter that was still trying to quake its way out of his body. Seamus slapped Ron hard on the back. “Just the guy we were looking for!” Seamus said, trying to hold in laughter. “So, after dinner we’re going to go searching for the elusive and scary clitoris! We’re thinking about starting in the Forbidden Forest! Want to join us, eh, Weasley? We heard you had some trouble finding it!” Seamus exclaimed, so that everyone could hear him in the Great Hall.
Laughter erupted in the Great Hall, and students who hadn’t been privy to the original conversation were now sniggering at their tables and pointing at Ron. Immediately, Ron’s face contorted in anger and he quickly pulled away from Seamus’s grasp. Ron glanced around at the students laughing at him before running out of the Great Hall in embarrassment.
Hermione couldn’t hold in the laughter that overwhelmed her as she witnessed the scene. She held her belly as the muscular pains shot through her from the strain of the amusement that racked her body. Hermione couldn’t remember ever laughing so hard in her life.
Ginny looked over at Hermione in confusion and Harry seemed slightly embarrassed, which revealed their innocence.
“What’s ‘the clitoris’?” Ginny asked sheepishly.
“Ginny!” Harry softly scolded as his cheeks turned red hot.
“Oh, Ginny,” Hermione laughed as she put her hand on the girl’s shoulder in a sympathetic gesture.

“You’re weak!” Snape bellowed, as he sat at his desk and Draco sat across from him.
“I’m training! What else do you want me to do?” Draco answered back loudly. He was already beginning to look exasperated.
“We train more—harder and longer!” Snape yelled as he gripped his desk.
“No!” Draco exclaimed as he stood up, displaying fear and apprehension. “That’ll just make me weaker! It’s draining me of all of my energy. I can’t keep doing it! It’s going to kill me!” he protested desperately.
“No, he’s going to kill you! And if you don’t become stronger we’ll both be dead! ” Snape hollered, as he stood up to confront the desperate boy.
“How can I be weak?!” he questioned as the angst of his unanswered question plagued him.
“You’re weak because you’ve always been weak,” Snape started coldly, in a low tone. “You might be part of one of the oldest bloodlines, but your upbringing was pathetic and incomplete.”
“My upbringing–?” Draco questioned.
“Your father,” Snape quickly answered. “He’s the weakest of them all and you’ve seemed to inherit every bit of him.”
“Don’t talk about my father!” Draco warned hotly, as his face contorted in anger.
“Why? Do you think he has ears all the way in Azkaban?” Snape mocked. Though Snape could see the anger bubbling in Draco, he continued. “Which is right where he belongs—locked up with those mental cases. His whole life has led up to this point of being nothing but a vessel for the nightmares of the Dementors.”
Within seconds of those words leaving Snape’s mouth, Draco threw Snape forcefully against a wall with his hand against the man’s throat in threat. Snape quickly drew his wand from his robes, but Draco immediately smashed it out of his hand where it flew across the room. Draco sneered at his mentor with a fist pulled back ready, to punch him.
“Physical force, Draco? I bet your father taught you all about that, didn’t he? And you—life father like son, right? You’re just ripe for the nightmares to overtake you and consume your soul, too,” Snape said almost calmly even though he seemed completely helpless and vulnerable.
“My father is a great man!” Draco bit out, his eyes flashing with malice.
“Your father is no one, and he made himself that way. He defined himself as someone obsessed with status and purity, and now he has nothing,” Snape said lowly. “And you—just like your father—have nothing, which is why you’re weak. You define yourself just as your father does, but you’re merely an imitation of his image.”
“Shut up!” Draco shouted, as his arms shook with the physical force he was holding back.
“The truth hurts, doesn’t Draco?” Snape mocked as he yelled back in his face. “Now if you’re going to hit me, hit me!” he bellowed.
Draco gritted his teeth and tightened his fist as he glared at the man before him who was similar in size; however, Draco knew that physically, he outmatched his professor. With all of his strength, Draco’s fist flew forward. With a bang, his fist smashed forcefully as Draco closed his eyes. As he opened them, Snape’s calm eyes looked back at him—he appeared to not even flinch when Draco’s fist met the stone wall behind him. Draco let go of his mentor and turned around with a heavy sigh.
“Fuck!” Draco seethed in anger.
“You don’t hate me, Draco,” Snape began lowly after some tense moments passed. “You hate yourself.”
Draco turned around and glared at his mentor with his jaw tight in anger. The waves of rage pulsated off of Draco as his gray eyes bore into the man before him, but he said nothing in defense.
Snape moved from the wall and straightened out his robes. He dusted off his left shoulder to rid his pristine clothing of the remnants of the ancient stone wall that had crumbled under Draco’s fist. When he completed his task he looked up again and met eyes with Draco. He appeared calm and calculating, as usual. “All you’ve ever done your entire life is what he wants of you; you’ve never been a genuine person, which has made you a perfect target,” Snape explained calmly. “The only true thoughts or actions you’ve ever had you’ve probably felt remorse for disobeying. But part of adulthood, Draco, is disobeying; part of being a man is having the courage to become your own person, even if that means not becoming the man your father wanted.”
“I can’t just defy my family,” Draco argued.
“Your obedience is nothing but that of an abused dog; you only submit because you’re afraid. You’ve always been afraid—a coward—and it’s the only thing that defines you. And that is why you’re weak. Your entire existence is predicated on the idea of becoming only what others want you to be,” Snape said lowly. “And your malice and hatred is simply a reflection of what you feel for yourself. There is no way you can win this battle if you don’t want to; and you can’t want to win if you have no reason to live. You can’t live just for your family’s sake, Draco. You must want to live for yourself, and you can’t do that if you hate yourself,” Snape said softly, a hint of sympathy showing. “Your fight—our training—in itself is a true act of defiance. So haven’t you already proved that you can exist in defiance of your blood, your purpose, your father?”
“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Draco bit out angrily.
“Yes, yes you do. You could just give up. You certainly don’t care enough about me—nor should you—to stay alive just because of me,” Snape said casually.
“I don’t want to give up,” Draco said lowly.
“Why?” Snape shot back.
“Because I don’t want to die!” Draco yelled.
Snape stepped forward and his eyes bore into the young man before him. “Prove it.”
It was the last day before Christmas break and the school was buzzing with students packing and celebrating. Hermione was finishing packing her suitcase for the vacation in her dorm room as the sun began to set, filling the room with an incandescent hue. As she levitated her case down the stairway from her room and set it down the floor in the Common Room, she went over to her desk and bookcase and started to gather up what she wanted to take home.
“Oh,” Hermione said quietly to herself as she realized she still had a library book. “I guess I better return this,” she sighed.
She took the book in hand and walked out of the Common Room into the hall towards the library. Her steps were spirited as she felt anticipation for the winter holiday she would be spending with her family.
“Hi, Hermione! Happy Christmas!” a first year Gryffindor called when she saw Hermione in the hall.
“Happy Christmas!” Hermione responded. She turned around to greet the first year fully but continued walking. Suddenly, her back ran into another person. “Whoops, sorry!” Hermione began as she turned around to apologize to the person she had run into. “Oh, it’s you, Ron,” she said, with slightly less enthusiasm.
“Well, you don’t have to sound so down about it,” Ron said dejectedly.
Hermione offered Ron a shrug. “Sorry,” she said, again in a similar tone. “I’m on the way to the library, so I can’t really talk.”
“You’re always on the way to the library. What are you doing this time?” Ron asked as he snatched the book out of her hand. “What is this?” he asked suspiciously.
“I’m doing research again—Harry asked,” Hermione explained quickly as she reached for the book.
Ron pulled the book out of her reach and started to flip through the pages. “Oh, he did, did he? And why didn’t I know about this?” he asked antagonistically.
“I don’t know. I told him to tell you–” Hermione began.
“Oh, I’m sure you did,” Ron said sarcastically. “And what’s this?” he asked as he came upon a piece of parchment inside the book. He held it up and started to inspect it.
Hermione instantly realized it was the page she had found in the library on “Spiritual Displacement”—she must have left it in the book by accident. “Give me that back; it’s important!” Hermione said as she tried to grab for it.
With Ron’s height, he simply lifted the page above his head to keep it out of her reach. “What’s a ‘Horcrux’?” he asked, reading the parchment.
“A what?” Hermione asked, baffled, as she jumped up and grabbed the paper from his hand. She inspected the page confusedly.
“Right there,” Ron said as he pointed to the word he had been reading. “‘Horcrux’.”
“This…wasn’t here before,” Hermione whispered, almost to herself.
“What do you mean?” Ron asked. He began to look perplexed as he peered at Hermione who began to look bewildered. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to go!” she called as she ran off towards her dorm, leaving a confused Ron behind still holding her library book.
“What about this book?” he called. Hermione didn’t even look back as she sprinted away.
“Lucio lemos!” Hermione screamed at the portrait when she came to it after running frantically through the halls. The man in the painting furrowed his brow at her rudeness, but opened the door. It took everything within Hermione not to rip the door off its hinges; as soon as the gap was big enough for her to squeeze through, Hermione pushed herself through the opening and quickly into the Common Room.
Hermione made a beeline towards the bookcases—specifically Draco’s bookcase. She started to pull books out, and after verifying they weren’t the one she was looking for, she would drop them carelessly onto the ground with a resounding thud. She appeared to be on a mission, and that mission did not include respecting or caring about Draco’s property. She continued to pull book by book out until she came upon the one she was looking for—the same book she had been looking at nights prior when she thought Draco had caught her. Feverishly, she threw the book down on the desk and took her wand out. “Lumos,” she demanded, and the wand lit up. She started to almost rip the pages as she flipped through them frantically.
Nights ago, when she was waiting for Draco to wake up after his calamity with the bathroom mirror, she had begun to look over the books he had on his shelves in curiosity. Somehow, Draco had seemed less threatening, and the voice that made her cautious seemed to be mollified by his current weakened state. One book had caught her attention—it was a book she had never seen before. When she opened it and examined it, she noticed that there was an incantation inscribed in the beginning of the book. This incantation was something she had read about before: it was a revealing spell. Saying the spell, Hermione saw the words change within the book, but before she had a chance to examine it further, Draco had awoken and caught her in the act.
Now, as she peered at the page she had found in the library weeks prior that had seemed to be left for her, the page was different. It showed different words and even spells she had never seen before. The revealing spell she had incanted when rummaging through the ancient book in Draco’s bookshelf had also revealed hidden text when she was looking through it those nights ago.
Suddenly, she stopped her fervid flipping of the pages and a look of horror went over her face. She brought the torn page she had found in the library weeks ago from her pocket of her robe and placed it inside the book—it matched. The tears on the page matched up with the leftover sliver of parchment where the page had been forcibly removed; the page she had found had come from the very book before her.
As she took in the realization of the sight before her, suddenly a memory came back to her and she found herself sprinting to her room. Her breath was ragged and her hair wild as she began to tear through one of her trunks as she dug deep into the physical manifestation of her memories of her years a Hogwarts. Near the bottom, she found what she was looking for. Taking the parchment in hand, she again sprinted down the stairs and went straight to Draco’s bookcase again.
In a desperate frenzy, she again began to pull books out and quickly read their titles. When she didn’t find what she was looking for in the bookcase, she got on her hands and knees and urgently searched through the books she had already pried from the case that were scattered on the floor. Suddenly, Hermione came upon the book she was looking for and she pointed her lit wand at it. She began to flip through the pages as she looked at the parchment in her hand as a reference.
Then her eyes went wide as her breath hitched in her chest. Her heart began to pound as adrenaline flooded her system with shock and panic. “Oh my God,” she choked out, as her hand covered her mouth in horror.
Draco left Snape’s office with more questions than answers, and he felt the anger that Snape had simmered within him with his bold criticisms. He told Snape what had happened the other night in the Head Boy/Girl bathroom—though leaving out the part with Hermione—it had not gone exactly as he planned. Draco had anticipated some aggression from his mentor, but the biting and cruel analysis of Draco’s—and the Malfoy’s—shortcomings were almost unforgiveable; however, within Draco, he thought Snape’s word may deserve consideration.
Draco trudged his way back to his quarters to take a moment to blow off some steam before dinner. He knew that his “friends” would be particularly annoying and demand his attention the night before they all left for vacation. Draco also had to think of an excuse as to why he wouldn’t be leaving with them, though maybe they would assume the complicated nature of his family’s whereabouts might answer the questions before they’re asked.
As he walked through the halls, he narrowed his eyes in thought as his mind reviewed how he had almost come to assault the Head of Slytherin just moments before. As he clenched his jaw, the harsh words Snape said ran through his mind. His father was vain, and in many ways his attempt at vanity—through purity and status—was his only motivation. But as a Malfoy, that was all Draco was taught; however, as Snape laid bare the truth of his family’s reputation, it became clear to Draco how pathetic it really was.
However, even more concerning were the implications Draco’s upbringing had on him. Draco wondered if his source of weakness was truly a tortured aspiration to be more than what his father taught and desired; could his need to obey, but his secret desire to be more, be the factor that made him a target? If that was true, then the only way to become stronger, and be less of a target, was to no longer give in to his pathetic efforts to obey his father—and in essence, be his father—and to rebel.
Draco shook his head at the thought as he was unwilling to cross that bridge and submit to a future without his father’s approval. Even with his father in Azkaban, Draco could hear his father’s voice howling within his mind as his teachings echoed. This voice through the years had become more distinct within Draco’s mind as Draco was able to differentiate it from his own thoughts; however, as this happened and his father saw Draco develop more as an independent person, he was punished for any individual thought. Draco was usually quick to halt his own thoughts that were outside of his father’s teachings. The past several months had been particularly difficult on Draco as his fight for his life was not only weakening his resolve, but putting into question his devotion and dedication to the Death Eaters and his father’s teachings. Now, as he flagrantly rebelled against the wishes of the Dark Lord, Draco wondered how different he must be compared to his father. His father had been willing to go to Azkaban—and in essence, lose his soul—for the Dark Lord, but Draco was purposefully fighting against the dark magic that would make him lose his soul too. Maybe, Draco thought, I’m not like my father.
“Lucios lemos,” Draco said angrily to the painting when he came to it.
The man in the painting seemed to glare at him, as did the rest of the party guests in the portrait. “You’re both rude,” the man in the painting said before opening the door.
Draco shot the painting a confused glance, before shaking his head as he decided he really didn’t care what the man had meant. As he walked into the Common Room, he noticed that the dark room only had a lone candle lit by his desk. Immediately, his eyes were drawn to the sight of the books that were strewn all over the ground. “What the hell?” he questioned as he surveyed the chaos and walked over the lit candle. For a moment his thoughts had ceased as he looked over the disarray.
Before him, his eyes noticed two books were laid out on the desk where the candle lit them in presentation, and Draco tilted his head curiously as he peered at them. The books were open to specific pages and previously crumpled pieces of parchment were laid out in the book, the ripped edges matching up with the tears in the book, indicating the pages had been ripped out. His mouth went agape and his face filled with bewilderment.
“Pipes,” he breathed as his fingers traced the word he had written on the book page he had hidden for her years ago.
“Fuck.”

Chapter Note(s):
Special thanks to Beta Reader Free_Buckbeak.
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