A Mudblood's Treachery. NEW CHAPTER up! Finally.

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Hermione followed Draco down the corridors and into the hallway. She grasped her wand tightly, ready to hex him if necessary. Draco however, seemed supremely unconcerned about her. Hermione followed him through a large corridor and he stopped at a painting of mother who had lifted water from the river into her basket.

The portrait cried out in surprise as he stopped suddenly and murmured, “Basilisk.” The portrait darted a look to the river in fear and upon seeing nothing, she seemed to recall that was the password. The portrait growled at Draco and suddenly the painting swung wide in irritation.

Draco smoothly stepped inside and Hermione followed reluctantly, looking around the common room. The décor was primarily masculine, neutral colors of green and brown. A private library was provided, as well as a lounge space, with a fireplace and huge arched windows overlooking the grounds.

The rain pounded lightly against the windows and the sky was overcast, just as it had been at the cemetery. Hermione felt the grayness of the day to the depths of her soul, and she simply stared at the Whomping Willow, lonely in the hard ice packed grounds frozen around it. Hermione dropped onto the alcove, and pressed her face into the windowpane. The glass felt icy to the touch and she sighed deeply, staring down at the grounds.

Draco made a noise of irritation in his throat. “Come on Mudblood. I don’t have all bloody day,” growled Draco, staring at her from the middle of their common room. “What’s the password, Malfoy?” replied Hermione, with disinterest.

“What password?” Malfoy raised his eyebrow slightly.

“The password for my room. Obviously, I get my own password,” replied Hermione witheringly as she gestured to the Head Girl’s door.

“Things have changed Mudblood. You do not get a password. It’s unlocked and will remain so,” chuckled Draco, as he studied her in interest.

Hermione turned florid in rage. “What? So you can just go into my room whenever you want? I don’t think so,” retorted Hermione, as she suddenly was on her feet advancing towards him. “I know exactly what you are up to.”

“It’s unlikely, a mudblood like you would not have the faintest clue what I am ‘up to’ as you put it,” sneered Draco, and he walked to the Head Boy’s door and slammed it behind him.

Hermione slumped against the window, staring out blankly. Classes would start tomorrow and she had to prepare for that. Hermione stalked to the door and pushed it open. Draco had not lied. The door was unlocked and appeared to stay that way. Inside the room was warm and inviting looking, with pale gold walls, and red burgundy tapestries.

A large four-poster bed, covered with a thick, maroon comforter with gold tassel, sat in one corner and a highboy dresser of rich mahogany stood on the opposite end next to a Victorian vanity table. A desk rested opposite of the bathroom door. A smaller paned window perched next to the bed, along with a nightstand of matching dark hue. It was a lovely room in Gryffindor colors.

Under any other circumstances, Hermione would be in radiant with happiness. Instead, she had to choke back a cry. Her parents were dead, her best friends off on a quest, and she was surrounded by her enemies. Hermione crawled onto the top of the bed and kicked off her shoes; she pulled up the blankets and huddled there. The tears began to spill over and she could not stop the chills that suddenly formed, her teeth began to chatter and she muffled the sobs into the comforter.

Draco looked up at the vent that ran into his room. He heard something muffled, a strange noise coming from Granger’s room. He narrowed his eyes and walked quietly towards the bathroom door that they shared. He walked into the other side and peeked through her door. She was gone. Damn it, Snape would have his scalp. Draco eased into the room and looked around carefully.

Another sob echoed through the room and Draco felt uneasy as he moved towards the bed. There she was, crying… Ugh. Draco ripped the comforter off the bed and Hermione tumbled out of the rolled up blanket and fell to the floor at his feet.

“Ahh!” cried Hermione, as she hit the stone floor.

Hermione felt shocked as the cold floor connected with her shins, as someone jerked her off the bed. Bloody Malfoy was probably here to make her more miserable then before. Hermione stared defiantly up at the blond towering over her. The bastard looked perfect, not a hair out of place. God she hated him.

Draco made the mistake of looking down her shirt. Holy Hell, Granger had breasts. Nice ones, from what he could tell. Draco swallowed hard, as he took in her rumpled appearance and red-rimmed eyes. She looked miserable and he actually felt bad for the filthy Mudblood. Having her Muggle parents die should have been expected, but she did seem torn up over it.

“I thought you were dying in here,” offered Draco as a way of explanation, while peering down her shirt.

Hermione stared at his eyes, which were leering at her breasts, and she closed her shirt. She still had not changed from the funeral. Hermione closed her eyes wearily. “A reasonable conclusion I suppose. Not much worth living for around here,” whispered Hermione, but the fight had left her tone.

Draco frowned and leaned down to look at her. “You’re a Mudblood, what do you expect? Hell, you are doing better then all the rest of them. Most of the Mudbloods are being targeted and killed. You are rather lucky, come to think of it,” Draco frowned slightly and he straightened up.

“Lucky that my parents were killed by you murdering bastards? Lucky that I have friends who used me for their own ends and refused to help I bury my parents. Lucky that everyone in school hates me, and wants me dead,” whispered Hermione, her face dropping onto her knees. Something broke loose inside her at the thought of the only person that could be her confident would be Draco wanking Malfoy.

Draco heard her tone and it made him feel tightness in his chest. Hermione Granger had always been a girl who drove him crazy; the bloody know-it-all was a genuine problem maker for him and others. The sobbing mess that hugged her knees in the middle of the room barely resembled the girl he knew.

Draco hesitantly touched her shoulder, with an uneasy and slightly annoyed look. “It’s not so bad. Voldemort doesn’t want you dead,” offered Draco with a smirk.

Hermione’s skin jolted through the sleeve when his long fingertips brushed her shoulder in a rather bad attempt at comfort. Hermione shuddered softly and looked up at him again, but something changed in her eyes. Up close, her brown eyes seemed almost liquid coffee and amber combined. The molten heat that flickered suddenly from his touch, startled him. He stumbled back from her and his silver gaze dropped to her mouth. The shape of her upper lip was almost rosebud like, but the bottom was plump and juicy. Draco licked his lips staring at her mouth and he jerked his gaze back to her’s uncertainly.

“What about you Draco, do you want me dead?” murmured Hermione, with a raw look. Her desire to be comforted seemed to be borderline suicidal. She knew deep down that she was asking him for more then the question suggested.

“You said my name,” Draco recoiled in shock. Hermione rose up and walked towards him, her eyes staring hard at his mouth. “Answer the question,” responded Hermione.

Draco swallowed hard and stopped just short of the door. “Why would I care if you live or die, Mudblood?”

Hermione sucked in a breath at the not unexpected but unbelievably hurtful words that he uttered. She gave him a knowing look, and she wet her lips thoughtfully. “Don’t worry, Malfoy. I wont ever make the mistake of thinking you are human again.” Hermione spit out his last name mockingly, and turned on her heel walking back to the window away from him.

Draco knew that was the last time she would get soft around him, and that was better for everyone involved. Draco felt the scorn and hurt radiating off her, and he felt a strange sense of loss in the space that was now between them. However, it was better for him and her.

Whether the chit knew it or not.


…

A few hours later, Draco slammed out of the common room and walked to the Main Dining Hall. The lights were still under the affect of the daytime sky, although it was closer to six o’clock. The Carrows were not very good about keeping to the schedule. Draco stalked through to the Slytherin table whilst stripping points from a Ravenclaw who tripped in front of him. Draco saw his friends already there and eating. Draco smirked and took a seat next to Pansy Parkinson.

“Hello luv,” purred Pansy, her hand reaching out to caress his thigh under the table. Goyle and Crabbe grunted at him from over their plates. Draco stared across at the Gryffindor table. It was small in numbers, but Hermione did not appear to be arriving any time soon.

That numbskull, Longbottom and Weaselette seemed to be talking in secret. Bloody morons, the whole lot. They were rather obvious in their pathetic attempts to skulk about, but they were Gryffindor after all. Draco cut into a piece of his steak and watched as Hermione finally entered the doorway. Draco dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter. Pansy let out a gasp of shock.


The rest of the Dining Hall looked up to follow his shocked gaze. Hermione Granger was standing in the doorway, and she looked like an invitation to shag. Long dark curls, highlighted with golden streaks, fell in soft, wild curls about her shoulders, down to her waist. Her heart shaped face was blemish free, and her lips darkened slightly to emphasize her sensual allure.

Her robes were parted revealing milky, perfect skin, slightly flushed in a pleasant way. Her school uniform looked too small and it emphasized every curve on her figure. The skirt fell to a good hand above the knee and revealing a long expanse of lean, beautiful legs. She had done something to her hair. It looked stunning. What did she do to her bloody hair?

Draco watched as Blaise and Theodore both whistled low under their breath. Her robes caught on a gust of wind, and her skirt fanned up slightly on her school uniform, much to her embarrassment. She looked like Hermione, but not. Almost like someone had come and smoothed all her rough edges out, and shaped her into a perfect looking version of herself.

Draco felt his groin tighten as he watched her move across the hall. The ‘gust of wind’ had come from the Ravenclaw table. Someone had purposefully blown it up her robes. Bastards, he would kill them all.

Hermione flushed bright red and hurried to the safety of the Gryffindor table. Draco saw Blaise grinning at him. “Nice bit of trim you got set up next to you. Bloody hell, she grew into her looks over the summer,” whispered Blaise appreciatively.

Draco muttered, “No, you don’t understand she didn’t…------”

“-------I bet she is using magic…” sneered Pansy, cutting Draco off with a hint of jealousy.

Draco heard Pansy’s words and stared across at Hermione, his eyes narrowing slightly in contemplation. Was she trying to seduce him? It was bloody working. She had his and every other male person’s attention for fifty meters. Dirty little cheater.

….

Ginny blinked several times as Hermione dashed to the table and sat down fast. Neville began to cough hard, and Luna obliged him by pounding him on the back several times.

“Thanks…,” murmured Neville weakly, still bright red in the face.

Hermione shot him a puzzled look and then noticed everyone was staring at her hard. “What? What the blood hell is everyone looking at it?” growled Hermione crossly, as she stabbed a forkful of green beans that appeared on her plate suddenly.

“You look amazing Hermione. What did you do, go to that beautician Horatio?” questioned Padma Patil, with a squeal. “I heard he works wonders and let me tell you girl, you honestly are a miracle.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you are babbling about. Nothing unusual I realize still it’s a bit annoying, Padma,” declared Hermione, taking a bite of her food and chewing silently. She could feel the eyes of everyone in Hogwarts riveted on her. Hermione looked sideways and swallowed hard. “Ginny?”

Ginny was already beginning to sense that something was off and she dug through her school bag and produced a mirror. Opening the compact, Hermione saw a version of herself that was foreign. She looked stunning and completely unlike herself. She looked like some fairy princess version of herself. Hermione’s jaw dropped in shock.

The small cherub on the side of the mirror, exclaimed, “You are the fairest in the land. Beauty, fair of regal descent, you possess a visage to make wizards lament.”

Hermione shut the compact, her cheeks flushed. “I don’t know what happened in the last few hours but I did NOT look like this before.

Ginny chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. “What have you done in the last few hours?”

“Nothing at all. I just took a shower and changed my clothes,” replied Hermione, her brow crinkling.

“I like the new soap, where did you buy it?” grinned Ginny jokingly.

“I didn’t. I borrowed some from…” Hermione trailed off with a look of horror.

“…. Malfoy,” whispered Hermione.

“Oh gods…”Ginny paled.

“Twenty Galleons says it’s permanent,” laughed Neville. “No way would Malfoy take a chance loosing his looks.”

“This is a nightmare,” cried Hermione and she laid her head on the table.

“Oh no, you look like a goddess!” cried Ginny sarcastically. “There are worse problems.”

“But I have to sleep next to Malfoy in an unlocked room,” Hermione whispered.

Ginny stared at Malfoy as he pretended not to notice her.

“Oh, right. Well, good luck then,” replied Ginny cheerfully. “Find a cure for being beautiful.”

“I will!” Hermione swore reverently.

“Ask Headmaster Snape… he has a lot of experience,” offered Neville with a grin.

The table began to laugh for the first time in a few weeks and Hermione herself concealed a smile. It was going to make things harder. Still, it was not impossible. Just avoid Malfoy until the potion wore off.





TBC..

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