Slaughter

AN: Wow I'd like to say a really big thank you to everyone who reviewed my story, this is my first [DMHG] story and I was a little bit nervous about it. And to uhh keep it short... here we go with the new chapter (feel the tension begin to build!)


With all of the responsibilities she had to take on single handedly (shockingly Malfoy was nowhere to be found), such as showing the first years to the boats, passing out the passwords that Hagrid had given her to the prefects and leading the new students in to be sorted, she didn’t manage to find her room until well after the feast had started. For the first week, prefects didn’t have to make rounds, but she knew that a schedule would have to be drawn up soon, and Hermione was never one to shirk her duties.

It was the first night and she was already busily making lists in her head of things that needed to be done as she walked through the common area that she shared with the Head Boy (she found that if she didn’t think of him as Malfoy, it was easier), not noticing the antique tapestries that hung from the walls of the large circular area, nor the grand fireplace large enough to fit at least three fully grown men. In many ways it was similar to the Gryffindor common room, which was probably why she took it for granted.

Walking through a stone archway that she assumed would lead to her bedroom, she soon found herself walking down a short, roughly hewn hallway which forked into two paths. ‘Two roads diverged by a yellow wood and sorry I could not travel them both,’ she found herself thinking as she chose one at random. It led to a heavy wooden door with the plaque of a Griffin in the centre of it. Pushing it open she felt her body begin to relax for the first time since the train ride.

A plush four posted double bed took centre stage in the middle of the room. Sconces lit the room, bathing it in a warm and comforting light and bookshelves brimming with books surrounded a wide mahogany desk and chair. Her trunks had already been delivered and unpacked by the house elves, and she sighed softly, all the tension draining from her limbs.

With a quick check to her watch (the hand with her face attached to it was pointing insistently to bedtime), Hermione’s deft fingers pulled off ever-perfect knot of her tie from around her neck, and then the rest of her uniform, taking the time to hang it neatly in her closet, even though her body was screaming to just jump into bed. After all the years of sharing a dorm with other girls from her year, it seemed a little strange standing in this almost cavernous room, quiet except for the sound of her own breathing. It was easy to miss the chattering and giggling of the other girls, something she hadn’t planned on. The head student’s common room was far away from the Gryffindor one, and Hermione found herself missing the easy camaraderie that she’d shared with the other members of her house, even if so often they had been begging her to do their homework or nagging her for answers.

“Don’t be stupid, you wanted this ever since first year.”

She told herself firmly as she pulled out the meticulously folded pyjamas that the house elves had left under her bed. Pulling them on, she slid into the soft bed and was instantly surrounded by darkness as the curtains dropped themselves around the four posts, blocking out the flickering lights. The last thing she thought as she drifted into oblivion was that she really wished she still had her book.

The next morning, armouring herself in her uniform, the shiny head girls badge winking out at people from her robes, Hermione steeled herself and walked into the common room. It was still early, breakfast wouldn’t be served for another half hour, but Hermione refused to take the chance of missing him. She sat by the fire in one of the armchairs, reading through the list she’d drawn up that morning in her room and waited. It turned out she didn’t have to wait long. After about ten minutes he came striding through the stone archway that led to their respective bedrooms, scowling slightly when he noticed her sitting in wait.

“Malfoy we need to talk.”

She gritted her teeth, ready for the confrontation that she knew was coming.

“Do we? What exactly do we need to talk about?”

His clipped words dripped with ice in annoyance at being held up. The bushy haired little mudblood was always getting in his way and today was no exception.

“We need to draw up a roster for prefects rounds, the headmaster wants to see it by Thursday at the latest so that he can approve it.”

As she spoke Draco found himself examining her with some kind of detached interest. She wasn’t like other girls, not even other muggle-borns. She never did her hair like other girls, it still hung over her shoulders in a bushy mane much as it had in first year. Make-up and clothes seemed to be of no interest, in fact the only thing she seemed to be interested in was running around after Potter and Weasel and reading her damned books. It was pathetic, really. She was practically androgynous, nothing more than a smart mouthed annoyance with a perpetually raised hand.

“Well by all means mudblood, don’t let me stop you.”

With that he made to exit again, halting as she continued to speak.

“I said we Malfoy, not me.”

Her face had gone red already, like a little round beetroot and she glared at him as if she were his equal, as if she could talk to him anyway she liked.

“Well, I had no idea that you were so eager to spend time with me. But I’m afraid I don’t consort with trash.”

He smirked as her mouth dropped open in shock, hastily exiting as he saw her face begin to contort with rage. She might be nothing but trash, but she was still damned fast with her wand.

The rest of the week passed without incident, Hermione drew up the roster and submitted it to Dumbledore by herself and spent the rest of the week avoiding Malfoy as much as she could, hiding out in the Gryffindor common room or her bedroom. It wasn’t like her to hide, and it bothered her that she found herself doing so. It was just Malfoy after all, when had she ever hid from him, or anyone for that matter?

And yet, even with those thoughts swirling inside her head she didn’t stop spending the majority of her time with Harry and the others in their common room, telling herself that she was simply lonely and that it was normal to want to hang out with her friends. But she knew the truth. Even when she’d accepted that, she told herself that it wasn’t cowardly. She had a lot of responsibilities this year, and avoiding conflict with Malfoy was just the smartest thing to do.

However she suspected that the boys had started to notice that something was a bit off with the way that she stayed in the Gryffindor common room right up until she was going to bed most nights. Her suspicions were confirmed during Friday night dinner when Ron, a mouthful of food still rolling around his wide open mouth, began to question her about it.

“Hey ‘Mione how come we don’t ever hang out in your common room? I mean, I know that git’s there and all, but we haven’t even seen the inside of it yet.”

She frowned a little, trying to think up a good excuse as to why she hadn’t invited the boys back there yet. Then suddenly it came to her.

“The head students common room is for head boy and girl only Ron. It’s the school rules. You wouldn’t let a non prefect into the prefect’s bathroom would you?” She replied, using what she liked to think of as her stern voice, conveniently forgetting Harry’s adventures with the prefects bathrooms fourth year. Whilst technically it was true that other students weren't allowed in the Head prefects rooms, it was generally overlooked. He scratched his head, swallowing and taking another bite of the sausage he was rapidly devouring.

“Well no I guess not, but how come you never hang out there?”

“I wasn’t aware that it was a crime to want to spend time with my friends Ronald. But since you’re so keen for me to, I will go ‘hang out’ there.”

With that she gathered up her things and huffily left the table, ignoring the half eaten plate of food left behind. She was half way back to her room when she realised that she now had three options. Spend the night hiding in her room, go back and apologise to Ron or do the rest of her nights work in the common room and run the risk of seeing Malfoy. Refusing to spend another night locked up in her room, and never one to apologise first, Hermione chose door number three.

Arriving at the common room and stroking the left side of the upper right corner of the door to make it open, she was relieved to find it empty. Pulling out her books and scrolls from her satchel, she sat down on one of the armchairs and began to make furious notes about the medicinal properties of Malaysian Stinking Arrag, one of the primary ingredients in a sleeping draught they were studying in Potions. About an hour later it happened.
She heard it before she saw anything, a shrieking female voice trying not to giggle, and the shuffling sounds of two pairs of feet entering the room. She looked up and wasn’t completely shocked to see what seemed like a very drunk Pansy Parkinson draped over Malfoy’s frame as they made their way through the room.

They didn’t seem to notice her, and by all appearances seemed very wrapped up in trying to caress each other’s tonsils with their tongues. Hermione cleared her throat once, twice, before they noticed her, Pansy detaching herself from Malfoy’s mouth to glare at her as Malfoy simply raised one eyebrow and let his insufferable scowl say the rest for him.

“Other students are not allowed in the head prefects common room.” She stated huffily, putting down her scroll to stand up, arms folded across her breasts as she stared them down. It didn’t seem to have any effect though, Malfoy simply standing there, one arm wrapped around Pansy’s bare waist (honestly, the girl was filthy rich, couldn’t she afford some clothes that fit her?), that damned look on his face.

“Piss off Granger, just because no one wants to fuck you, doesn’t mean that we should all suffer.”

Pansy replied, the impact of her words somewhat dulled by her loud hiccup at the end of the sentence. Hermione refolded her arms across her chest, refusing to back down. It was one thing to have to live with Malfoy, it was quite another to have to live with Pansy coming around at all hours of the night.

“Malfoy you know as well as I do that students are forbidden to be in the rooms of students of the opposite sex. I could always bring it up with Dumbledore if you have a problem with it.”

She tried to remain calm, refusing to let her hate for him make things worse. Her hackles were up, but she could be mature about this. Really she could. As Pansy stumbled a little where she stood, laughing that head-splitting laugh of hers occasionally for no particular reason, Malfoy seemed to think on this for awhile, before slowly shaking his head at her and smirking. When he spoke, his words were cold and deliberate, leaving no doubt in Hermione’s mind that he meant them.

“I will bring whoever I want into this room you jumped up little mudblood, and if you so much as think of talking to Dumbledore about this, I will make things very bad for you.”

With that he tugged Pansy away, turning and dragging her towards his bedroom, ignoring Hermione’s quiet seething. He’d almost disappeared completely down the stone hallway when she shouted her final line.

“The headmaster will hear about this!”

He stopped briefly, turning once more as he pushed Pansy off towards his room to go without him.

“No he wont mudblood, because it would kill you to know that there’s something you couldn’t handle by yourself.”
With that final remark he turned and headed off in the same direction as he’d sent Pansy.

Try as she might, Hermione couldn’t deny that it was true.



To anyone who is wondering "Two roads diverged by a yellow path..." etc is a quote from a poem by Robert Frost.