The Wonders of Obliviate

Disclaimer: See previous chapters, nothing has changed. (I own nothing and do not profit.)

A/N: Hi! Thanks for the positive feedback. I was in the mood to write about Draco so here you guys go; next chapter will probably be mostly Hermione's POV. Toodles.

(Reposted for changes spelling and grammatical changes. If you spot any where that's got a spelling mistake please let me know, I have a terrible time typing where I frequently leave out a letter at the end or the beginning of a word.)

*****EDIT: *****

For some reason the third chapter, (and all the nice reviews D: ) were deleted. I'm just reposting the third chapter now, (still working on the fourth) and a response to one of the reviews that was deleted.

Thank you for the comment about the name Weasel. :) I am aware that normally Weasel is called Ron or Weasley, the same way Harry is not usually called Potter. But since this chapter is supposed to be from Draco's perspective, calling Ron by his first name would be a little out of character. (I don't like to write in first person perspective, which is why you aren't reading things like "and then I came up with a brilliant strategy, but decided to eat watermelon instead!" etc.)

Look at the way the books are written. Every thing is centered on Harry and his reactions; basically everything is from his point of view. While Harry is the center character of a scene Draco Malfoy is rarely called Draco. It’s always “Malfoy said…” or “Malfoy did…” (I don't think Draco would be nice enough just to reference Ron and Harry as Weasley and Potter all the time, I think there would be som Weasel and Potty in there.)

If you still have problems with this, think of it as a biased third person telling the story.

Now: the reason why I use Draco’s name while in perspect for Hermione is because she is supposed to have a burgeoning relationship with him, so I think the way she addresses him will be come a bit more familiar that just using a surname. Draco already has feelings for her, and so addresses her as Hermione (usually).

***** Sorry about the repost!! ******

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The whole thing was a disaster. Hermione had made it very clear since their confrontation in the lounge of the Head Rooms that she wanted nothing to do with him. She was avoiding him. Draco had put his best idea yet into action by craftily forcing them to spend more time together, he rearranged the duty rosters of the prefects so that at least once every three days they would be “forced” to spend several hours together, alone, under the claim that one of his Slytherin prefects was unable to make it.

Granger had quickly figured out the pattern, and arranged a small change of her own. Every time her name came up to be partnered with a Slytherin, Anthony Goldstein appeared in her place. It was thoroughly maddening.

The prick was the most self-righteous bastard Draco had ever met with the exception, of his father, Dumbledore, and Harry Potter. Okay, not the most self-righteous but he was high enough up on the list to drive any sane man crazy.

He was certainly doing a number on Draco.

It was worse to, that Goldstein made it clear every time he arrived in front of the Great Hall doors that he was there on a “personal” favor for Hermione. The assuming prat though he had the right to claim intimacy with a girl he barely knew.

Unfortunately for Draco, he also understood he was doing the exact same thing. Unlike Goldstein however, he couldn’t spend two hours singing the praises of Hermione Gorgeous Granger in the presence of others. For several reasons, the first being the very obvious fact of his heritage, and family habits. The second being that thinking of Hermione made him desperate to wank, and often when he spent hours praising Hermione and her angelic qualities his hand were quite busy fulfilling some of his more carnal needs.

So while he wanted to whole-heartedly agree with Goldstein on all the wonderful aspects of Hermione’s …personality, he was forced to scowl and pretend he didn’t want to hear it. All he really wanted to do was force Anthony against a wall and strangle out a promise never to touch the girl he was claiming as his own.

One night, Draco was running extremely late. He’d discovered that somehow Weasel too had been involved in the swapping mess that left him partnered with Goldstein. (A Hufflepuff prefect let it slip that Hermione was doing Weasel’s rounds.) So tonight, he had groomed himself particularily well. He put on the most alluring cologne he had, dressed in some of his nicest black robes, and his polished shoes.

It was almost like a date.

Well it would have been if something hadn’t gone wrong and instead of finding Hermione Granger waiting at the doors of the Great Hall, he found Weasel. And with the poor blighter was bloody saint Potter. The two were focused intently on a paper that Potter held, his face an unsightly red.

“What do we have here? Two love birds sharing a naughty letter?” Draco drawled.

“You’re late,” Potter glared at him while turning several shades darker of red. It was an interesting sight, and clearly Draco had struck a nerve. Before Harry could roll the letter and shove it in his robes Draco snatched it from his hands.

“Yes, and you are out after curfew. You’re lucky I have to live with Granger or I would take points from you,” Draco replied absently as he read the disgustingly detailed letter. It was clear someone had it for Potter, and who ever it was described in illicit detail exactly what the admirer would like to do to Potter’s body, if given the opportunity. He didn’t have the opportunity to read who wrote it before he was shoved and the letter was stolen from his hands. “Hey! Watch it!”

“That’s a very private letter!” Weasel glared at him while Potter quickly put the lengthy letter away.

“Yes, I could tell. Although personally, I don’t know who would want to put anything of your dirty possession into their mouth, but I suppose some girls like it kinky. I’m assuming that little session the writer wants to arrange will include Weasel here, just to share the experience, naturally.”

This time Weasel turned red. “You—”

“Shove off, Malfoy.” Potter cut in stepping forward to put his face disturbingly close to Draco’s. “You’re just upset you’re not getting any.”

“I’m not am I?” Draco asked slyly stepping back. “It’s awfully convenient to have Granger so close every night. It makes it especially easy on those cold nights, when I just can’t go to sleep…”

Potter and Weasel lunged at him but Draco side stepped them. “Five points each from Gryffindor for attempting to attack the Head boy. Now come along, Weasel, we’ve got work to do.”

Weasel scowled, but Potter took the hint that their nice little prelude together was over. Whatever else needed to be discussed about the letter would wait for later.

“Don’t tell her,” Potter said looking at Weasel. Though his tone was calm and steady, it was obvious from his face he was pleading with poor-boy.

“What do you take me for? I’m not a bloody half-wit, Harry. I want to live past tomorrow too.” Potter looked relieved. “But you’d best burn it and never answer it or there will be two of us out to murder you.”

“I think there are a lot more than just two people out to murder you, don’t you?” Draco asked with curiosity. Weasel just looked at him, Potter glared. Draco was getting tired of it, couldn’t they be more creative? Like break out in to dance and sing or something? Like that muggle musical he had once seen. What was it… My… My Average Woman? My… My something about a woman. And she sang about a man getting it. And her pronunciation was very poor and difficult to listen too, but it suited her supposed lower class.

“What do you mean?” Potter asked slowly.

“Lord Voldemort,” Draco started to list maliciously ticking out a finger. “Then the hundreds of death eater still around. I obviously don’t have enough fingers to count them, so we’ll move on. Then there will be She-weasel, if she sees that letter.” Potter gaped at him. “Oh please, do you think I’m so dull as not to pick up that you’re frightened of a little girl?”

Draco conveniently left out that he found the She-weasel quite frightening as well, but a Malfoy afraid of a woman, worse a Weasely woman, was unheard of so he said nothing. “Followed by She-weasel’s two dozen brothers, and then the morons who couldn’t use the conception charm to stop the over abundant procreation.”

“Hey!” Weasel shouted. “Five brothers and-”

“Ron,” Potter cut in, looking embarrassed.

“Not now, Harry. Five brothers and-”

“Ron,” Potter hissed.

“What?”

“Six brothers.”

“What?”

“Ginny has six brothers,” Potter whispered. “You forgot to count yourself. You, the twins, Percy, Charlie, and Bill. That’s six.”

Draco burst out laughing, as Weasel stood dumbfounded he began to climb the stairs. “Five points to Gryffindor for being absolutely moronic. Come on Weasel, you’re my entertainment for the rest of the night. Don’t disappoint me.”

Miserably Weasel began to turn and follow Draco. He looked pleadingly towards Potter. There was nothing to be done, Potter shrugged, still speechless from the fact that Draco Malfoy had just awarded Gryffindor points.

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“Say something,” Weasel demanded.

Draco remained silent as he continued to trudge down the dark corridors two long steps a head of the red-head.

“What is it you want me to say,” Draco asked bored. “You were scheduled to provide the entertainment tonight, not me. You’re doing a rather poor job of it.”

Weasel turned a shade of crimson and sputter a few times. Behind him, Draco could here the huffing sounds as Weasel made the decision to finally catch up to Draco’s fast pace. “If I find out you tell my sister about that post—”

“You are a fool, Weasel.” Draco glanced at the redhead from the corner of his eye. “If you think I would go to the She-weasel with any rumors of Potter’s infidelity, I’d be sure to have proof first.”

“Why? When as that stopped you from spreading rumors before?”

“Because I wasn’t spreading rumors that directly concerned the devil’s advocate. You live with that crazy woman, and I’ve seen what spawned the two of you. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and if that howler in your second year was any indication… Besides, Granger will get on my case about it.”

Slow thoughts crossed visibly across the redhead’s face as he processed the last comment and his attempt to remain clear of his family and Granger. As he seemed ready to question Draco’s response, a cruel idea came to Draco and he stopped abruptly. “Why are you so keen to stop you’re sister from knowing? Did you send the letter? I figure, only somebody with such an intimate knowledge of Potter’s body …someone who lives in close proximity with him…”

Clearly tonight was not Weasel’s night. It took a few seconds for Draco’s words to become clear to Weasel, and with in that short time Draco knew to take two steps back as a fist came dangerously close to his eye. “Now, now....” Draco said mock soothingly.

“I’ll kill you!”

“Five points from Gryffindor for threatening a Head boy.”

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“Yes?”

Hermione Granger paced furiously in front of the coach on which Draco was sprawled lazily. A wool blanket covered his body, only his feet, arms and head were exposed. The fire crackled restfully, the warmth gentle lulling Draco. He wore his pajamas, but refrained from buttoning the top closed. It was one of his latest tricks to try and wheedle his way into Hermione Granger’s heart.

If his personality just couldn’t do it, maybe his physique could.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

Draco opened one eye lazily and then closed it again, a small crisp smile on his face. “Welcome home, honey.”

Suddenly his haze was interrupted by a shrieking Hermione Granger as she shouted his name and few other profanities. Dazed by the possibility of Hermione swearing (what would she do in bed?), Draco sat up and watched as she grabbed the blanket and thrashed it and a few pillows around the room.

It was only when Hermione accidentally flung a pillow half into the fire, where it promptly caught fire, followed by the carpet that she calmed down enough to be immediately escalated into panic.

“What have I done?”

Instantly Draco raised his wand to put out the spell when it was snatched out of his hand. “Dousenacio!” cried Hermione. Annoyed Draco silently received his wand from her and waited for the apology. “What?” she snapped. “I made the mess, I took care of it.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it Draco Malfoy, don’t deny it.”

He was going to lose this battle, it was as plain as day that it wasn’t just his behavior with Weasel yesterday that set her off. Something else was bothering Hermione Granger, and he’d be damned if he didn’t find out what. But not tonight.

“Good night, Hermione.”

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Draco normally considered himself above snooping in another person’s room, but drastic measures are necessary. He waited until Hermione left for her session in the library; her cool glare told him plainly his company was unwelcome.

Carefully he opened the door, his wand at the ready. His Gryffindor queen was crafty, but how careful she was about her privacy Draco was unsure. He had not yet attempted to pry into her room, suspecting Hermione might be more inclined to trust him if he left her things alone.

Her bedroom was as expected, decorated in the horrendous Gryffindor colors. Her bed lacked the usual canopy, trademark of Hogwarts, and was the same size as the beds in the regular student dormitories.

Draco was surprised at the extreme contrast, but apparently the rooms had not only been decorated by their house but also personal taste. His room had a very large bed, decorated in greens and blacks, a walk in closet and an enormous bathroom, the washroom was connected with a sliding door.

In Hermione’s room there was a decent sized wardrobe, and when Draco peeked into the closet, he was astounded to find it lined with book cases, each stuffed full, there were piles on the floor, and boxes over head.

“Bloody hell, why does she even go to the library?”

Out of curiosity he decided to peek into the bathroom to find if like himself, Hermione Granger enjoyed long bathes to contemplate the day’s various events. He was shocked to find that instead of the bath there was a cage like fixture. Its walls were glass and there was a handle on both sides of the door. Inside there were two knob-looking things, and a weirder thing coming out near the top. He opened up the door and looked at the knobs closely. One said hot, the other said cold. He glanced down at the floor of the cage to see what looked like a drain, but he wasn’t sure because as far as he could tell there was no place for the water to come out.

Tentatively he twisted a knob, but nothing happened. Frustrated he turned it every which direction and than started pushing at it, and when he pulled the knob out he yelped in surprise. Cold water came rushing over him, soaking him completely and he immediately pushed it back again. He sputtered out a few curse words, and waved his wand to dry himself off.

The events of the bathroom made Draco even more curious about Hermione’s washroom, though he had a distinct feeling he should retreat back to the main room where he would possibly be safer from unknown contraptions.

The washroom looked very familiar, and Draco was relieved, even disappointed. Then he spotted two boxes on the countertop that looked strange. One said “Tampax” and described something called the “Menstrual Cycle” and how Tampax gave long lasting protection. He looked inside curiously, finding plastic wrapped things. He desperately wanted to open one and find out what it was, but he was afraid Hermione might notice one missing. He also found untouched on one side of the box a instructions.

With growing horror he read exactly what Tampax were used for, and where they were placed. Disgusted he quickly folded the instructions up and shoved them carelessly into the box. This time he truly did retreat after he glanced at the other box that read. “Birth control.”

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For two hours Draco contemplated the findings in Hermione’s room. Eventually he became distracted as the strangely drawn pictures in the instruction paper morphed into graphic detail of Hermione inserting the tampax stick, and then changing again into Hermione inserting a finger and masturbating, bringing herself off as she called out his name.

Suddenly the idea of inserting something strange like a tampax stick into her body seemed not disgusting but exciting, and personal. He had picked up from the instructions that Hermione was having her monthly flow. An idea slowly formed in his mind, with the knowledge that she would be moodier than normal he decided to appeal to her sentimental and romantic side.

Hermione Granger was going to meet her secret admirer at last- via owl post.

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The plan would have been perfect, like his other, if Draco didn’t have the worst timing.

He ordered chocolates for Hermione, to be eaten once her cycle had ended. Roses and lilies to add fragrance to her stale room. A stuffed bear for her to cuddle when she didn't feel her best. And lastly a small book about herbal teas and the illnesses and symptoms flowers and what not can relieve. The last was inspired by Hermione complaining to herself about a back ache in front of Draco. Although it wasn’t really directly in front of him, as he had been behind her and the stooges, and the rest of the Gryffindor flock. But he had seen the tell-tale signs, her face scrunched up as she rubbed her lower back, heaving her book back over a shoulder.

He wrote in his perfect script, a small note on the page about body pains, that he would gladly give her a massage any day she would like, and finished it off with a promise that he loved her. (Honestly, Draco thought smugly to himself. All a boy's got to do is promise love, and the girl will always be suckered in.)

The gifts were wrapped in magnificent paper, a dainty bow on each. He selected a large owl, not wishing to use his own, and was sending it off with instructions not to appear before Hermione’s window before dark when the girl herself climbed up the owlery steps. It was a disaster. She had seen both the package and the owl leaving. Draco stood frozen in surprise. It was far too late to call back the bird now, it would be too obvious.

When Hermione Granger glared at him suspiciously, Draco reacted the only way he could think of. He stuck out his tongue, and demanded, “What are you looking at?”

Hermione wasn’t fazed at all. She blinked once, and answered, “You. I hadn’t suspected that the high and mighty Draco Malfoy would send off gifts, of all things. Threatening letters, naturally, cursed packages even. But something nice?”

“And if I am?” Draco snarled taking a step closer to her. “Disappointed Granger?” She lifted her chin in a tantalizingly defiant manner, and it was all Draco could do to hold back with the distance between them seeming smaller and smaller. He looked down at her round pink lips, her little nose and her angry eyes. Draco bit his lip to stop himself from moaning, pictures of naked Hermione flashed before his eyes. He squeezed his eyes closed briefly, growling. “Afraid I’m sending chocolates and kisses to someone other than you, love?”

Draco didn’t wait around for her reaction, afraid she might notice his. The term of endearment had just sort of… slipped out, and it hung in the air as he stormed out, his robes bellowing behind him in a Snape-like manner.

He hoped Granger was impressed.

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If Draco were a nail biter, this would be a classic case of chewing off all hint of dead skin he had. Luckily he wasn’t. What he was could be seen as worse. Since losing his virginity, Draco found release (quite literally) in sex.

It was probably part of the reason Pansy Parkinson suspected that a relationship existed between herself and Draco. In general, when Draco wasn’t looking for a Hermione-fix, he went to Pansy when he was inappropriately overwhelmed by some emotion, usually anger. To other girls, he went for fun.

For the first time in nearly three weeks, feeling quite disgusted with himself, Draco climbed out of Pansy’s small bed. But he could see from the window that it was still light, and he was still nervous of the delivery to happen later tonight. A quick lay with Pansy had done nothing to change the dire situation.

Momentarily he thought of trying to get some Gryffindor to plead with Hermione to take their duty for that night, but he didn’t think the hero-worshipping bunch would be really out to help him. Rivalry came with the colors after all.

He had no ideas for how to remove Hermione from her room long enough to intercept with the owl. He should have been more specific, but no, Draco had just said “After dark.” The blasted thing could arrive at her window anytime it pleased.

Draco dragged his feet down to the hall to eat an early dinner. He had no appetite and the food sat stale on his plate, staring back at him defiantly. He wanted to throw the plate at someone, anyone. Instead he stabbed at the honey-steamed carrots absentmindedly. It wasn’t until he heard Granger mentioning a long night in the library to a Hufflepuff as she passed the Slytherin table that he began to cheer up.

Perhaps he didn’t have the worst luck after all.

His empty stomach growled and he realized that the stress of trying to find a solution had put a damper on noticing the pains other than in his head. Honey-steamed carrots would it the spot. Draco smiled to himself, a look that quickly faded as he looked at the mess of victimized food on his plate. Somehow his chocolate desert had gravy on it, and the glazed ham was smeared with orange jelly.

He snarled, and exchanged his plate with the empty one next to him about the same time that Crabbe and Goyle arrived. Goyle looked down at the plate, and grinned at Draco. “Thanks, Draco.”