Rough Hands

Sunlight streamed through the massive windows of the Great Hall, as students groggily shuffled in. The smell of bacon, eggs, and toast, wafted through the room with enough appealing force to wake even Hogwarts’s infamous narcoleptic, Sharden Slumberwill. The students sat at their respective tables and conversed excitedly with one another, and the clamor of dishes and silverware added to their morning soundtrack. Somewhere in the middle of pancakes and waffles, a weary looking Hermione ambled through the door.

“Mione, over here!” shouted Ron, spewing mashed potatoes all over Harry’s plate.

Harry nodded enthusiastically to Hermione and then, taking a gander at his plate, turned to Ron with a slightly disgruntled expression.

“Oi, Ron did you have to do that?”

“Sorry mate, really I do apologize. Want me to take those out for you?” Ron laughed, while plucking out a few clumps of stray potatoes out of Harry’s no longer appetizing breakfast.

Hermione languidly sat in her always reserved seat, giving both boys a weak smile.

“Hermione, what’s wrong? You don’t look well,” Harry said, with a hint of worry.

“I’m fine Harry, just over-working myself I suppose. You know how I get sometimes,” Hermione replied. She placed her hand over Harry’s and gave it a reassuring squeeze because; after all, He was The-Boy-Who-Always-Worried-About-Her.

“Hermione, I’m having a bit ‘o trouble with my History of Magic homework. You wouldn’t mind helping me, would you?” Ron asked, assuming the look of a lost child.

“Help you or do it for you?” Hermione smirked. While Ron began listing off the top ten reasons why she was the best candidate for tutoring him, Hermione realized that Harry was still holding her hand. She slowly retracted her hand and looked up to find him gazing at her with a mysterious look in his eyes.

“Do I have something on my face?” Hermione asked quietly to Harry while touching her cheeks.

-“and you’re always getting top marks…”

“No, no nothing. I must have zoned out for a bit.” Hermione looked slightly relieved but felt a little uneasy nonetheless. The way Harry was gazing at her did not look at all innocent. “But you do have some ink in your hair.” Harry said, smiling.

-“and you don’t even sleep while Binns is talking.”

“Thanks, you notice everything don’t you?” Hermione said, laughing lightly. “I suppose I’ll go wash it out. I’ll help you with your assignment later Ron.” Giving her friends a once-over, she got up and exited the Great Hall, but not before catching Harry mumbling something that sounded a lot like I always notice everything about you.

“She didn’t even eat anything,” Ron said, looking perplexed. Rubbing his hand together, he grabbed Hermione’s plate and began shuffling down its contents. Harry gave him a disapproving look and Ron simply replied with a quintessentially Ron-esque answer. “What? I can’t let this go to waste, there are starving house elves out there.” Harry could only laugh in response.

Thinking of Harry’s cryptic mutterings, Hermione didn’t notice the solid figure coming in her direction.

“Fucking hell,” Malfoy barked, holding his foot. Suddenly noticing the perpetrator, Malfoy let out a dark laugh.

“Marvelous, I love beginning a new day with a mudblood breaking my foot.”

“You walked into me just as much as I walked into you! Pureblood or not, it’s still half your fault.” Hermione shot back, with obvious enmity.

“Listen Granger, just apologize for your existence and I’ll give you a five minute head start at the final showdown,” Draco said, with too much ease.

Utterly shocked, Hermione stood with her mouth agape, while trying to figure out how best to sober up. Draco sent a look of revulsion towards her and proceeded to limp past her. Watching his robes sway down the corridor, Hermione knew she could not let this prick get the last word.

“Hey, Malfoy!”

“What?” he scoffed

“You’ll be lucky if I don’t hex you before the end of the school year. I may be Head Girl but I won’t tolerate threats, especially by the likes of you.

Ignoring his injured foot, Draco began swiftly walking towards her, wincing occasionally. He caught her slightly off guard and was, therefore, able to pin her against the wall. With one hand perched near her face and bracing against the wall, he directed his piercing gaze at her.

“Let me make myself clear once and for all. I don’t care about your silly little badge because you are filth and will always be filth.” Letting go of the wall, Draco kept his eyes fixed on Hermione, who looked as if she was going to boil over. With her eyes ablaze and her heart hammering in her chest, Hermione was quite a vision. Draco became mesmerized by the sight and failed to see the hand coming from his peripheral. Hermione slapped him with all her might and stood aside to catch her breath. Draco rubbed his face in amusement and smirked at her; so much for muggle hospitality.

“Your pureblood psycho babble won’t work on me ferret,” she said, seething with rage.

Draco felt nauseas. He was letting this bitch get the best of him. Not only that, but he was also quite angry with himself for enjoying the sensations of pinning her against the wall. But he was obviously just on a power trip. Obviously. “I’m just going to translate that pitiful display as a cry of desperation.”

“Desperation for what, may I ask,” she spat out.

“It’s written all over your face, Granger. You want to fuck me into oblivion.”

With those lasting words and a smirk to die for, he made his way down to the Great Hall.

Hermione stood shaking with anger for what seemed to be an hour but in reality was about two minutes. How dare he make such an outrageous accusation? He was the one breathing down her neck and holding her against her will. With her nerves finally in check, she walked into the prefects’ bathroom to wash her sullied tresses. She grabbed at her hair forcefully and began scrubbing away, mentally killing Malfoy in twenty different ways.

Meanwhile, Draco joined the Slytherin table in their daily routine of hating everything that wasn’t like them. Crabbe and Goyle, seeing Draco, quickly pushed a 4th year out of his seat to make way for the Prince of Slytherin. The 4th year was aware of Draco’s influence and didn’t even protest to losing his spot. Draco was untouched by the gesture, because it was a common occurrence to root out the inferior without so as much as a flinch. If you couldn’t shove some kid out of a seat, you sure as hell couldn’t Avada Kedavra a Ministry Official and that kind of attitude was simply not acceptable among the pureblood gentry.

“Crabbe, Goyle,” Draco nodded toward his dim-witted cronies.

“Mornin’ Malfoy,” Goyle replied. “I hear you got picked as one of Slytherin’s prefects’. “Maybe you can get Crabbe here outa’ his detention on Friday.”

Crabbe nodded mindlessly and directed a pleading look at Draco.

“I suppose I can try to work something out,” Draco said drawled, “but what will you do for me in return?”

“Uhhh, I’ll…-”

“Never mind Crabbe, how about you just do me a favor next time I ask?” Malfoy said, smiling coyly. As if the buffoon didn’t do everything he asked already!

“Thanks mate, I owe you one.” Draco just waved it off.

Crabbe then focused his gaze to Draco’s lip “Oi, Malfoy it looks as if you’re bleeding.”

Draco touched his lip and when he observed his fingers, he saw crimson. Seems the mudblood is pretty strong. No matter, she’ll get what’s coming to her and there will be a lot more blood.

With that cheerful thought, Draco traced his lips with his tongue and wiped away the remaining liquid.

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged worried looks, figuring they’d have to avenge whoever did this to Draco, but knew better than to ask him what happened.

“Stop staring at me, you imbeciles. It’s just some blood. I merely bit down on my lip to hard.”

“S-s-sorry, I was just concerned is all,” replied Crabbe meekly.

“No need to act like a Hufflepuff, Crabbe. I’m fine. Now let’s move on.”

Crabbe nodded and turned to Goyle to discuss their plans for pummeling a first year, who unknowingly took a cupcake that Goyle was eyeing.

“Fucking wanker, it even had those purple sprinkles that I love!”

“I suppose a Crucio would serve him right,” Crabbe snickered “but good ole’ Dumbledore wouldn’t stand for it.”

Draco just rolled his eyes and bit into a pastry to ease his hunger as well as distract him from the idiotic conversations going on around him.

“Hello Draco,” Pansy said, sneaking up to him from behind. Draco turned his head slowly to face her, finished chewing his food, and then turned back to the table as if she was merely an unpleasant breeze.

“Don’t be silly Draco, I know your feelings for me are beyond words but I’m bored and fancy a chat,” she nagged, sitting down next to him.

Inwardly, Draco was cursing the world and feeling very much the misanthrope. Nonetheless, he had to free himself of Pansy’s death grip on his bollocks. He soon came to terms with the fact that Pansy was out of her mind and decided to deal with her accordingly.

“Listen Pansy, I feel wrong keeping you to myself, knowing that I’m hurting others,” Draco said, trying very hard to look apologetic.

“What are you talking about?” she asked curiously.

Draco patted a confused Goyle on the back. “Goyle, here, has been in love with you for many years and I only recently found out.”

“But…Um” Goyle tried to interject but was hit by Draco under the table, indicating for him to keep quiet.

“I’m going to have to let you go, Pansy. I truly do value what we had together but Goyle’s friendship means a lot to me and I can’t be the cause of his broken heart.” Draco, who was having too much fun with this little charade, decided to end it before he started announcing Pansy and Goyle’s nuptials. He took Pansy’s hand and kissed it gently, making a mental note to conjure up some mouthwash once he got to his dormitory. Once Draco let go of Pansy’s hand, he cast a dark glare at Goyle, urging him to play along.

“Well I really must be off. I’d rather not see the blossoming of your new-found romance,” Draco said, sounding resigned for the sake of a good show.

Watching Draco hurriedly exit the Great Hall, Pansy exhales loudly and looked over at a slowly panicking Goyle.

“Goyle, as flattered as I am by your umm affections, it could never work out. I mean really, your family wasn’t even featured in Witch Weekly’s wealthiest wizarding families’ edition.”

Goyle temporarily set aside his confusion to defend his bruised ego. He may have been well under the average IQ level, but he still had feelings…kind of.

“You take that back Pansy! You know very well that my family is one of the most well-known in the pureblood community.”

“Oh Goyle, there is no need to persuade me of your status to win my heart. How about you just show me how much you love me, perhaps with some goblin-made jewelry?”

By now, everyone at the Slytherin table was quietly snickering at the scene unfolding in front of them. Theodore Nott nudged a helpless looking Goyle and whispered something about being royally fucked.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Goyle muttered under his breath. Pansy wrapped her arms around him and squealed like a pig being slaughtered, making a few Slytherins spit out their food from laughter. Pansy cast a few reprimanding glances over at her fellow classmates and exited the Hall, skipping as she went.