Mental

/CHAPTER IV/ When It Rains It Pours

Following his unfortunate heart-to-heart with Dr. Sprout, Draco’s desire to escape had increased ten fold. I’m not staying here if I’m to be psychoanalyzed by a deranged plant whore, assaulted with a stick, molested by a pug, and made to eat coco sucks. I’m just not doing it. Not to mention, being sexually harassed by twins - that is not how the fantasy was supposed to go… He pounded a path toward the common room hoping to put as much space between him and Dr. Sprout as possible.

Once in the common room Draco made his way to the television area. Ernie and Neville were sitting on the burgundy plaid couch and the telly was being flicked on and off repeatedly. The blond took a seat on the arm of the couch.

Irritated, Draco turned to the person controlling the tv’s erratic behavior. “Ernie, is it really necessary to click the television on and off after every commercial.” Without waiting for an answer Draco grabbed the remote control from Ernie, smacked him with it, and then began clicking through the channels fervently.

Please let there be Life Time...Noooooooooo! What kind of sick hell hole sadist torture chamber doesn't have television for women?

“I think I was watching that.” said Neville to a distraught Draco.

Draco looked at him as though he was a bug that needed smashing. “Did I say you could speak to me?”

“Maybe. I don’t remember.”

“I didn’t so shut up.”

Just beyond Neville’s head Draco spotted Colin Creevey. He had just entered the common room and was bouncing toward the arts and crafts area at the cabinet Draco recalled held the glitter. Oh no you don’t. Remembering the horrible blue glitter incident Draco sent the remote flying through the air. It hit Colin on the side of the head with a loud thump. The small boy fell over. Ten points! The remote laid beside Colin busted into several pieces.

Mission accomplished, Draco turned back to the tv screen. The telly was now stuck on one channel. SHIT! I’m not getting up to change the channel manually. The tv was less then two feet away.

“Seventh Heaven?” He stared at the screen with growing agitation. “I’m not watching this bull shit. The show is completely unbelievable. No one in their right mind would have seven children.”

Draco’s comment about family size had attracted the attention of one Ronald Weasley who was playing chess nearby. “What’s that supposed to mean!”

Draco turned to the livid red head. So Mr. Weasel’s son wants to play. It’s go time. He sprang into verbal action. “I merely mean to say that your family’s fucked up Weasley.”

Ron left his chess game and stomped over to the sitting blond. Draco stood up from the arm of the couch to greet his opponent. The two were now standing face to face. They were the same height.

This is almost exactly like Springer we’ve already got an unconscious midget, (he meant Creevey)…now all we need is a transgender nun.

At that moment nurse Pomfrey hurried into the common room. Close enough.

Draco smirked. “Your parents shouldn’t even be allowed to breed weasel.” He looked Ron up and down. “Especially after you. You’re quite the little fucker.”

Ron stared Draco down in cold furry. “Take that back.”

“You can’t take back what is fact weasel. It’s not my fault that your mother’s a whore and your father’s to stupid to notice.”

Ron didn’t reply although his face tinted a deep shade of red. Man, I’m good.

“Let me guess…” Draco continued his barrage of insults. “…you’re here because you’re the first recorded case of actual Male P.M.S.”

“I’m here because I’m bipolar you asshole!”

“Boys!” Called nurse Pomfrey as she scampered toward them in an attempt to stop their verbal dispute. “This has to stop immediately or I shall call Mr. Filch.”

Ron didn’t listen to her threat his blue eyes focused only on the cruel blond before him. “Don’t think I don’t know who you are. You’re just as despicable and arrogant as your father Malfoy. Just because you’re rich you think you’re better then me do you?”

“Actually, I know I’m better then you.”

This was the final straw. Ron lunged at Draco sending him tumbling over the arm of the couch. Jerry, Jerry, Jerry! Ernie and Neville jumped up from the couch and moved out of the way as the boys landed one on top of the other. Why do all the Weasley’s insist on touching me? Nurse Pomfrey ran off to fetch Mr. Filch in a panic.

Amused by the red heads action Draco started laughing. I can't believe it I'm being strattled by a Weasley.

“Shut your mouth.” challenged Ron as he seized Malfoy by the collar of his shirt and slammed his head down against the plaid cushioning of the couch. Draco didn’t stop laughing.

“What’s so damn funny Malfoy?”

“Has anyone ever told you that your face turns bright red when you’re angry?” Still laughing Draco lifted a hand to touch Ron’s cheek. Ron slapped it away.

“At least I’m not pasty white.”

Oh no you didn't. Draco stopped laughing then spoke with indignation. “I’m not pasty white! I’m marvelously pale you sorry excuse for a tomato.”

“Did you just call me a tomato?”

“Why, yes. Yes I did.”

Ron made ready to punch Draco, raising his hand threateningly into the air. Draco closed his eyes preparing for impact. It never came. Draco cautiously blinked his eyes open. Ron’s hand had been caught mid swing by an old man clad in a white uniform who sported lamp-like eyes.

“Are you two boys done playing kissy face?” sneered the old man.

“I deny these wild allegations!” Protested Draco firmly underneath Ron's weight.

Ron looked down at Draco strangely. “He was joking.”

“Right, I knew that.” Draco nodded his head to prove his honesty. Oh it was joke…he frowned…I still don’t get it.

The old man lifted Ron off of Draco. As a result Ron toppled to the floor cursing madly under his breath. Draco sat up as he adjusted his now tussled hair.

Hair spray, I need hair spray stat. Luckily, he had some in his pocket. Travel size, bitch. That’s right. He whipped a miniature bottle out of his pocket like a cowboy drawling a gun.

Ron breathed huffily on the floor as Draco fixed his hair. Both nurse Pomfrey and the old man eyed them reproachfully. “I think we’re going to have to separate you two.” said the old man with a crooked leer. Nurse Pomfrey lifted Ron off the ground and piloted him back to his deserted chess game while Draco was led to the opposite side of the room by who he assumed was Mr. Filch.

Mr. Filch guided Draco to the arts and crafts area. “Take a seat.” he commended. Draco just stared at him unbelieving. He has got to be joking.

“You are to stay twenty feet away from Mr. Weasley, which means the best place for you is over here.”

Draco sat down indignantly at the small, round wooden table Filch had motioned to. “I do not art and I certainly do not craft.” He stated with an air of finality. Although I’m not opposed to finger painting under the right circumstances.

“Well, you better get used…” Suddenly Mr. Filch noticed the unconscious Creevey on the ground and discontinued their conversation to investigate.

Draco had settled next to a sandy haired boy who wore a t-shirt with the Irish flag. The boy looked at him. Draco grinned back. Hey, fuck you buddy. The boy returned to doodling fiercely on a piece of paper. Draco leaned over to see what he was drawling.

Bloody hell. This guy is seriously fucked up. It was hard to tell what the picture was of exactly, but one thing was clear…everything in the picture was in flames. Goody, goody gum drops. I think I found me self a pyro.

Then Draco’s attention settled back onto Mr. Filch. He was talking to the comatose Creevey. “Mr. Creevey, get up off the floor.” Mr. Filch nudged Creevey with his foot. That’s when Draco spotted the shattered remote on the floor.

Light bulb. Ding!

Draco got up from the table and nonchalantly headed for the broken remote. He casually picked it up.

I’m a freakin’ GENIUS. Good looking and smart…I’ll rule the world. Oprah better watch herself.

Then Draco walked over to a nearby art strewn wall. He ripped down a picture of a penguin whose creator had made him purple instead of the customary black. Once back at the wooden table, Draco took the broken remote in one hand and the retarded penguin in the other. Using the wires from the remote he created a spark. Purple penguin’s about to burn. He repeated this sparking process a few more times till the purple penguin ignited in a brilliant solitary flame. That little square of white paper signifying an iceberg won’t save you now.

“Sweet.” Breathed the sandy haired boy who had been watching Draco in complete admiration.

Draco handed off the burning penguin as well as his trusted miniature can of hair spray (never leave the house without it) to the excited boy. He smirked as he removed himself from the table. “Have fun now.”

The sandy haired boy made short work of the nearby pile of construction paper, and soon there was a small multicolored fire blazing. Nurse Pomfrey who was still talking to Ron screamed when she become aware of the flames. The scream startled Mr. Filch who then registered the problem and leapt into action leaving Creevey still unconscious on the floor.

All Draco could do was laugh, and laugh his ass off he did.

The pyromaniac now headed for the cupboard with the glitter. Bonus!

“Who gave Mr. Finnegan matches!” screeched a distressed nurse Pomfrey as she rushed to assist Mr. Filch in his efforts to fight the blaze of craft materials.

Thoroughly pleased with his work, Draco left the ensuing chaos eager to disappear into his own room. He slipped away into the boy’s corridor and headed for the door labeled ‘E’.

“Not the tissue paper!” Was the last shout Draco heard from the now distant common room.

It’s getting hot in here so take off all your clothes He started to undo his green shirt one button at a time as he walked. I’m gettin’ so hot I’m gonna take my clothes off. Overcome by song Draco began to dance booty and all. His fight with Ron, 'down for the count' Creevey, and the cut n' paste inferno had cheered him up considerably.

As he shimmed down the corridor his foot kicked something on the ground. Huh? That something then proceeded to slide across the linoleum. Immediately, Draco stopped droppin’ it like it was hot and followed the object with his eyes. It was a book…her book. The one she had thrown at Weasel. It lay on the ground apparently forgotten. He approached it and read the title. Catcher in the Rye. Curious, he picked it up and shuffled the book open to a random page…

Sex is something I really don't understand too hot. You never know where the hell you are. I keep making up these sex rules for myself, and then I break them right away. Last year I made a rule that I was going to quit horsing around with girls that, deep down, gave me a pain in the ass. I broke it, though, the same week I made it - the same night, as a matter of fact.

He closed the book with a sharp snap. What is this girl reading?

Just then the sound of footsteps became apparent. He was no longer the only person in the corridor. None other then Hermione Granger was making her way down the hall. Panicked, he quickly shoved the book down the front of his trousers. His facial expression became one of slight bemusement. That feels different.

The brunette walked swiftly swinging her arms instead of her hips. Draco leaned against a nearby door looking rather suave. In his usual enticing manner he brushed blond hair out of his eyes. Look at me, look at me, look at me. She walked right past him.

Confused by his inability to charm her with his silver, blond locks and his partially unbuttoned shirt he decided on a new approach. He took off a shiny black shoe and threw it over her head. It landed directly in front of her hitting the floor with a muffled thump.

Hermione stopped several feet ahead, her back to him.

That’s right turn around. You know you can’t resist.

She turned around slowly to face him. Her features were plain and her expression was neutral.

“I’m Draco Malfoy.” He smirked.

“I know who you are.”

Good. Less work for me.

“You’re that jerk who punched Harry last night.”

Okay, more work.

Granger made to continue down the corridor. Draco hurried after her choosing to walk right behind the brunette. Annoyed she stopped walking and turned to face him once more.

“Are you following me?”

“Yes.”

“Well don’t.” She walked past him and headed back the way she came.

Draco continued to follow Miss Thing copying her change of direction. “Why not?”

“Because only a horrible person would do what you did to Harry, and I don’t consort with people who have no principles of morality.”

She wants me.

Hermione changed her direction again as did Draco. “Why are you walking up and down the boy’s corridor?” asked Draco ignoring her previous comment.

She breathed heavily scanning the floor with her eyes as she paced. “I’m looking for something.”

“You’re search is over…” Draco announced stylishly knowing full well what she meant. “I’m right here.” He jumped in front of her and pointed to himself mustering all the sex appeal he could.

She pushed passed him. “Stop talking to me.” Ooh, feisty.

“Fine, I’ll stop talking to you.” He silently continued to walk right behind her.

She looked over her shoulder her plain features highlighted with distaste. “Are you smelling me?” Just a little bit.

“No.”

“Stop following me.”

“Fine.” He stood stock-still and started at her intently as she continue to walk up and down the corridor.

Hermione processed his action. “Okay, that’s it.” She'd enough of the blond. “What? What, do you want?” They stood only feet apart.

“Funny you should ask…” He began to reach into his pants.

She held up her hands for him to stop. “Never mind don’t answer that.” She began to walk away for good this time. Quick. Do something before she leaves. He withdraw his hand from his pants and bent over to take his other shoe off.

He stood up, shoe in hand, only to find she had returned and was standing right in front of him. “Don’t you dare throw that shoe at me!” Her cheeks were pink with fury and her nose was slightly scrunched.

“I wasn’t going to throw it.” Countered Draco. She eyed him suspiciously and then turned on her heel to leave. Or was I mawha ha ha. He made to throw the shoe at her. Too late she had rounded on him. Brown eyes met gray. Startled he dropped the shoe.

He raised an eyebrow at her action and then smirked. “I’ve been bad. Go ahead, spank me.”

Hermione didn’t spank him. Instead she yelled. “What is wrong with you?”

Quick, change the subject.

“What’s wrong with Potter is the real question?”

Hermione spoke quickly and angrily. “His parents died in a car crash!” Draco wasn’t expecting this answer. But, yet he didn’t care.

“I can’t be blamed for punching the kid. Potter was making an ass of himself. I had to put a stop to it.”

Granger’s facial expression turned murderous. “He’s sick.” she spat.

“He was waving a stick at me.”

“You told him his scar was magic marker.”

“It was.”

“That’s not the point.” Hermione couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Oh, so it’s okay for Potter to act a fool because he’s crazy. But, it’s not okay for me, someone who isn’t crazy, to grab your ass.”

“What?”

Draco folded his arms over his chest pretending to be truly offended. “See I knew it. So typical.”

She was confused. “I never said…”

“So I can grab your ass?”

“No!” Hermione tried to get back on topic. “Harry acts that way in order to cope with his parents’ death.”

“Why can’t he cope with things the normal way? Like I do. With Sex, Drugs, and Alcohol. I don’t feel the need to go around pretending to be a wizard.”

“Well we can’t all be as perfect as you.” I know…sad really.

Draco took a step toward her and then went quiet. The book in his trousers had shifted awkwardly.

Hermione looked at his crotch. About time. “What’s in your pants?”

“Want to find out?” Draco smirked.

“God, you’re arrogant.”

“God you’re a bitch.”

“And you’re not?” Did she just call me a bitch?

Draco shook his head the bushy haired girl was getting to him. “Do you want your book or not?” he questioned.

Realization dawned on her. “Why did you put my book in your pants?” she asked incredulous.

“Because things that women own generally gravitate there.”

“Take my book out of your pants!”

“Come and get it.”

Hermione started tapping her foot on the linoleum exasperatedly. “I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation with you.” You know you like it. “Just give me my book.”

“I told you…come and get it.”

“Grow up.”

“Well, if you don’t want your book...” It was now Draco’s turn to threaten leaving. He walked a few steps.
She gave in. What can I say the girl likes books. “Oh, for goodness sake. Fine. Fine. All right.”

Holy shit. She’s really going to stick her hand down my pants. Who’s your daddy!

Hermione walked over to a smiling Draco. She put her hand to his lower torso preparing to reach for her book. Then pulled it away quickly, for it had started raining.

DAMN IT!

It wasn’t just raining it was pouring. Draco looked up frustrated. The indoor sprinkler system had kicked on. Apparently, both Mr. Filch and nurse Pomfrey had been unable to stop Mr. Finnegan in time.

Curse that purple penguin.

Draco noticed Hermione was looking up too. She didn’t have the expected girly reaction of ‘Oh my god my hair’. She just stood there feeling the water hit her skin.

The two of them were only inches apart water falling all around them, each one breathing heavily. On all sides patients were emerging from their rooms to see what was going on. Most patients immediately withdraw back into their doorways while others ran around screaming and playing in the falling water. (Harry Potter was running around saying something about mermaids and then started trying to rescue a Korean girl who was crying hysterically.)

Nurse Pomfrey ran into the hallway trying to manage the pandemonium. “It’s alright. Don’t panic. False alarm everything is under control. The water will be off shortly. We will not be evacuating.” Her words didn’t help. The commotion only became magnified and multiplied.

Draco and Hermione stood still among the madness. The quiet noise of the overhead silver sprinklers became rhythmic as water sprayed this way and that.

Draco’s half unbuttoned shirt was sticking to him and his wet, bond hair hung down in front of his eyes. Hermione’s now wet curls stuck to one side of her face and settled lamely on her shoulders. How is her hair still frizzy? Water droplets fall down her face, catching in her eyelashes before they continued their journey. Draco was suddenly thirsty.

The water stopped. He took a step closer to her. Hermione walked away.

“What about your book?” Draco called after her. She didn’t answer just held up her hand as if the say 'you keep it'. Draco watched her figure saunter down the hall till she disappeared.

At least she was wearing a white t-shirt.

Barefoot and soaking wet, Draco went to his room and slammed the door shut. The room was dry as was his roommate. They don’t have water sprinklers in our rooms. Good to know.

Zabini seemed unaware of both the fire and the hallway rain shower. He pulled his eyes away from one of his mirrors to see who had entered. He glanced at his wet roommate.

“Is that a book in your pants or are you just happy to see me?”

“Book.”

Draco retrieved the now wet novel from his slacks and threw it onto his bed. He then reclined against the back of the door and slowly slid to a sitting position on the ground. His damp body squeaking as it went. For whatever reason, at that moment Draco decided he needed some sex rules of his own.

Rule # 1: Never ever…under any circumstances…let someone named Granger put her hands near or down your pants.

After that, despite already being wet, Draco opted for a cold shower.

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A/N: Soooooooo? What do you think? Hermione and Draco's first interaction together and now they’re both all wet…he he he.

NOTE- The novel Catcher in the Rye was written by J.D. Salinger. The quote used above can be found in chapter nine of the text.