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No Reason

By: 420th
folder Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating: Adult +
Chapters: 6
Views: 4,968
Reviews: 10
Recommended: 0
Currently Reading: 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
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Plan

Hermione got up off the ground and gave the wizard in the portrait a polite nod before slowly continuing on her way. She couldn’t help looking back in the direction Malfoy had just gone. She would have still thought she’d hallucinated him if she couldn’t still smell him. That was the very same scent she’d briefly come into contact with all those years ago when she’d slapped the ignorant ferret right across his arrogant face. Hermione shook her head vigorously to clear away that strange train of thought.

Draco Malfoy just simply could not be here. How would anyone in their right mind let that monster back into the castle? Was his betrayal last year not enough for everyone? How many more Death Eaters could cross their safe haven’s threshold without fear? How many more people had to die?

They’d all been forced to accept Snape back into their school and the Order; the man who murdered their mentor, friend and leader Albus Dumbledore. There had been no clear explanation for why Snape had been allowed to return, only that Professor McGonagall had spoken out on his behalf. She seemed to trust him, just as Dumbledore had.

Hermione scoffed as she thought about it, “Look where his eternal trust led him; straight to the grave.” Shocked at her anger, Hermione mentally chastised herself for such a thought. Trust was important, but she still couldn’t help but wonder if they’d been trusting the right people.

Harry had publicly stated Malfoy’s reluctance to kill Dumbledore that night, and when pressed about the subject he even grudgingly admitted that Malfoy had looked to scared to fulfill his duty to Voldemort. Then Snape had taken over when it became clear that Malfoy was not capable of the deed.

It was just all so confusing; all these people with their secrets and lies. It made Hermione dizzy when she thought of it. She remembered how Harry had been livid when he’d heard that Snape would be returning to his former teaching position as potion’s master. She felt a wave of pity for him. Even though he’d hurt her more than words could describe, she still thought of the boy who’d lost his parents at such a young age only to be shunned by what he’d then believed to be his only surviving family, just for being who he was. Then to discover he had a godfather who cared for him like a son, only to lose him two short years later. Harry’s life had been riddled with death and tragedy, and Hermione was sorry for him.

She truly believed that if she could just love him enough, he could let go of his anger. She wanted more than anything to fix him, to make him happy. She wanted to save him, and thereby save all of them.

Hermione stopped walking when she realized that she was nearing the Great Hall. Her breath caught in her chest as she thought of what Harry’s reaction to Malfoy’s return would be. Steeling herself for whatever was to come, though she was sure it would be nothing good, she exhaled slowly in a futile effort to calm herself and walked through the high doorway into the Great Hall.

Scanning the Gryffindor table, she almost sobbed with relief when she didn’t see Harry’s jet black hair amongst the sea of her classmates. Heading over to her seat, she glanced quickly over at the Slytherin table, but did not see Malfoy anywhere. She hoped they hadn’t found each other in the halls. She sighed as she sat down when Ron and Ginny sent her their usual dirty looks, and she grabbed a biscuit and some butter to distract herself from them.

She had only managed to take a small bite when she felt a sharp tug on her hair from behind. Opening her mouth to scold whoever the prankster was, she was immediately cut off by an angry voice.

“Where the fuck were you Hermione? I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Not off being a nasty slut again, were you?”

Harry pulled her head back by the hair he was holding and examined her neck.

“Do you have to pay them extra for no love bites?” he whispered cruelly in her ear.

Hermione sank lower in her chair, cheeks flushed with mortification. Harry took his seat next to her while she gingerly rubbed the spot on her head that hurt when he’d pulled her hair, and bit her lip to keep from bursting into tears.

“I won’t embarrass myself even more by crying, not that anyone would even notice.” she thought fiercely.

Dinner appeared before them, and made Harry momentarily forget to question Hermione further on her whereabouts. Hermione raised her pumpkin juice to take a sip, relief flooding her when she saw Harry was more interested in food, when the doors to the Great Hall creaked open on their ancient hinges.

Draco Malfoy swept into the hall, spotless school robes billowing around his form, and strode over to the Slytherin table as if nothing was amiss. Hermione looked around and found she wasn’t the only one who’d taken notice. Many students had stopped eating, frozen in their movements, half-chewed food visible in their gaping mouths, as they stared with shock blatantly written upon their faces.

Even the majority Slytherins seemed surprised, as they glanced from Malfoy to the staff table to see if someone was going to jump up, hex, and capture him. Malfoy ignored all the stares, sat down, and began serving himself ample helpings of the dishes the house elves had prepared.

Out of the corner of her eye Hermione saw Harry’s face contorting with rage, and she ever so slowly began to edge away from him on the bench they shared, to escape his notice. Before anyone else could move, Harry whipped out his wand and jumped on the Gryffindor table, knocking over goblets and plates with a crash. He pointed his wand at Malfoy, and Hermione watched Draco’s eyes flick from McGonagall, who was wearing an expression of astonished anger, and back to Harry and his wand. Malfoy however, made no move to defend himself, he just continued to stare stoically at Harry.

“Harry Potter!” Professor McGonagall shrieked from the head of the staff table, “Lower your wand this instant!”

“I will not.” Harry replied, narrowing his eyes at Malfoy. “That thing is at least half responsible for Dumbledore’s death, and I refuse to let another traitor take up their previous lives as if nothing has happened!”

“SECTUMSEMPRA!” Harry roared, his rancor for the blonde-haired wizard plain in the strength of the spell.

Draco sighed and closed his eyes. How very like McGonagall to not disarm her precious Potty. He waited for the familiar angular tearing that the curse was sure to bring, and was surprised when it didn’t come. There was a loud crash and some shouting and Draco opened his eyes in time to see an unconscious Potter being dragged away, no doubt to the hospital wing, by a disgusted-looking Snape. McGonagall had somehow managed to get from her seat to the Gryffindor table in the short amount of time in which Draco had closed his eyes.

McGongall stood slightly stooped in a whispered conversation with Granger. Draco helped himself to more food, and watched as Granger got up to leave with a troubled expression on her face. He almost laughed out loud when she stole a fearful glance at him before her exit.

His gleeful demeanor left him quickly, as he thought of the visit he would have to make tonight. Before he could dwell on it anymore, someone sat down to his immediate left and spoke quietly, “What the fuck are you doing here Draco? No that I’m not glad to see you and all, it’s been a long time, but are you fucking crazy?”

Draco smirked as he heard Blaise Zabini’s deep voice. It really had been a long time since he’d seen his childhood friend, considering that they were nearly inseparable for the better part of their lives. He was still thinking of the past when a sharp elbow to his side bright him painfully out of his reverie.

“Bloody hell.” Draco growled.
“Have you even been fucking listening to me?” Blaise hissed, “You should have seen Nott’s face when you walked through that door Draco, went white as a sheet. He was out of here before Potter even pulled his wand on you. Are you here under orders? You’d better fucking be, because I’ll bet the Dark Lord is getting information even as we speak from Nott, and if you didn’t receive permission to come here… I don’t even want to think about what he’ll do to you.

Draco grimaced a bit as Blaise said what he already knew was true. He knew he would be in deep shit for this one, but he also believed he could make his Lord see that having another spy inside Hogwarts, who also happened to be in the same year as Harry Potter, could be a vital asset to the Dark side.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek and whispered back, “I didn’t receive permission.”

Blaise’s eyes widened and he shook his head, “You’ll be lucky if the Dark Lord doesn’t kill you for this Draco. Think about what it looks like, you went behind his back to engage contact with the enemy. He’s going to want to know how you got them to accept you back here.” He took a deep breath and looked away. “It looks like you’re a traitor Draco.”

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Hermione had returned to her room after the scene between Malfoy and Harry in the Great Hall, and she lay sprawled out on her bed. She already knew that when Harry woke up from his involuntary sleep in the hospital wing, he would be furious. He hated Malfoy with every fiber of his being, and he’d felt that way since first year.

Ecstatic wasn’t really the way to describe how Hermione felt about Malfoy’s return either, and she knew there had to be ulterior motives behind his coming back. He didn’t return here just to be a student. Professor McGonagall hadn’t said anything of it to the Order, of this Hermione was sure. She smiled faintly as she remembered the excitement over the George and Fred’s invention of Extendable Ears.

She knew she should be waiting in the hospital wing for Harry to wake up, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave the silence of her room, where she could pretend nothing else existed.

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Very late, Draco stood in his solitary room punching holes in a portrait of a unicorn that looked extremely displeased. He was still unhappy with the events at dinner and wished he would have done something more. Besides all that he was also expecting the Dark Lord’s summons at any moment.

His stomach growled loudly interrupting his thoughts of choking Potter to death.

“Guess I’ll have something to eat before I go to my possible execution.” he thought dryly.

He clad himself in an all black robe and raised the hood to hide his tell-tale blond hair. He couldn’t bring himself to just sit there in that room and wait. It felt too much like a death sentence. He moved slowly towards the kitchen, ignoring his portrait's questions about where he was going.

Every now and then, he’d see a student rushing either up or down to their respective dormitories, fearing being caught out late. From the shadows he watched as Mrs. Norris and Filch passed him, the light from Filch’s lantern sending sickly green shafts of light around the gnarled old caretaker.

Draco waited until he couldn’t hear Filch talking to Mrs. Norris anymore to slip out of his hiding place and continue on his way. He came at last to the familiar corridor with the painting of the fruit bowl at the very end. He threw his hood back and walked straight up to the giant green pear. He cast a cautious look around, to make sure he wasn’t being watched or followed, as was his habit. He tickled the fruit and it quivered as it giggled. The frame swung forward admitting Draco into the noisy bustle of the kitchens.

He strode in confidently and ordered a wide-eyed elf to get him the food he wanted, and smirked when the creature skittered away from him, almost falling over itself to do his bidding. He then took notice that he wasn’t alone here. Hermione Granger sat on a stool by a small table, staring at him with wide eyes, wild hair, and looking every bit the part of a mouse cornered by a cat.

Draco couldn’t help the predatory grin that spread across his face.

“Granger,” he said smoothly, “what brings a filthy mudblood like you down here at such a late hour?”

Fire flared in Hermione’s eyes and she immediately assumed a more confident posture.

“Don’t you dare call me that disgusting word, ferret! It’s none of you’re business why I’m here, so kindly go away.” Hermione then turned her back on him.

Draco gritted his teeth at her insolence, and grabbed her shoulder to spin her around, and let her go when she stiffened and whimpered.

“Do not presume, lowly worthless mudblood, to speak to me so disrespectfully ever again. You don’t know who you’re fucking with. This shit isn’t a bloody game anymore.” He turned on his heel, and picking up his food, he disappeared through the portrait hole.

Hermione watched him go and hugged herself tightly. “I really need to stop getting myself cornered.” she thought dully, “It really has been happening much too often.”

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Draco returned without incident to his room, feeling only slightly better after threatening Granger and filling his stomach. No sooner had he sat on his bed, wistfully thinking that maybe the Dark Lord wouldn’t summon him after all, when the tattoo on his forearm flared white hot, and he couldn’t stop the impulse to tear at his sleeve to see if his skin was really melting like it felt it was.

The burning stopped for a moment, and Draco used the opportunity to gather himself and grab his cloak and mask from the bottom of his trunk. He took his broom and used it to fly out his window to the front gates of Hogwarts where he then apperated to the scheduled meeting place for the week.

An old rickety house came into view, as Draco appeared before it, and all he could see around it were dark woods. Mold and ivy flourished abundantly across the wood of the place, and it smelled rotten. Foliage had obscured any path, if there’d ever been any, that led to the house, and at first glance the shack almost looked like a large bush of some kind.

Draco entered the place with caution, for even though he was a follower and among the ranks of the Death Eaters, one could never really tell with the Dark Lord, and Draco had a sinking feeling that his Lord was not about to greet him happily.

He ascended a dangerously broken set of stairs to the upper floor after it became apparent that there was no one on the bottom level, and was only slightly alarmed to find himself in a room alone with the Dark Lord and Wormtail. Draco knew a private meeting with Lord Voldemort was trouble, and he briefly recalled Blaise’s words about him being looked upon as a traitor.

Draco kept his face expressionless, and said nothing, knowing that if he were to try to speak first, the Dark Lord would curse him without giving him the chance to explain himself. With a wave of his wand, the Dark Lord sent Draco’s wand flying through the air into his outstretched hand. Draco knelt respectfully before him, and heard the Dark Lord scoff mockingly as he did so. He flinched before he could stop himself, and angered by his fear, continued to stare at the ground.
.
“Draco Malfoy.” the Dark Lord began with a sneer, “Why do you keep disappointing me Draco? I haven’t even given you a mission since your miserable failure and yet you manage to anger me again… What do you expect to gain from returning to Hogwarts? Are you so stupid that you think your ‘education’ will matter in your service here? Or perhaps you’ve decided that the grass looks greener on the other side, so to speak?”

Draco held his tongue when the sharp retort he would have given anyone else nearly passed his lips, and merely replied, “I know my Lord thinks me untrustworthy and useless, but all that I have done since our last meeting has been done to please you. You now have a second willing, and devout servant as a spy inside Hogwarts castle. The teachers have been stupid, and have believed a ridiculous lie I told in order to regain my status as a student there. I have direct access to Potter, the Mudblood, and the blood-traitor Weasel. Please consider this, my Lord. I am forever in your service.”

The Dark Lord sat staring at him for what felt like a long time, undoubtedly searching his face and mind for any hint that he could be lying, and Draco was careful to not think at all of his private thoughts. Wormtail fidgeted in his nervous manner next to the Dark Lord, and it was blatantly obvious that the Dark Lord’s most faithful servant was absolutely terrified of him. The sight disgusted Draco, though he did consider his Lord’s appearance to be something that was truly made of nightmares.

“Very well Draco,” Lord Voldemort hissed, “You shall return to Hogwarts for the moment to act as my second servant inside that wretched castle. Gather as much information as you can about the remains of the Order of the Phoenix.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Draco answered, daring to hope.

“However, your behavior, returning to Hogwarts without my advisement, was a complete disregard of my authority. The usual punishment for this is death and you would do well to remember it, for I will not tolerate many more mistakes from you Malfoy.”

Draco looked up a little at the mention of his last name. Lord Voldemort had said it as if to insult him, but before he could think about it more, Wormail stepped forward excitedly as he prepared to dole out Draco’s punishment. With a nod from the Dark Lord, Pettigrew drew his wand.

Draco couldn’t help shaking in rage and humiliation, Lord Voldemort was showing Draco that it was beneath him to even torture him, he was going to have his twitchy slave do it in his stead.

“Crucio!” Wormtail squealed loudly.

There was a red flash and pain ripped through Draco’s mind and body, paralyzing him completely, but he did not cry out. There was still this one small act of defiance that kept Draco’s sanity intact through the hours of punishment. He refused to scream and beg for mercy as he’d seen countless others do. His silence was his victory. Draco felt his muscles relax and he staggered as the curse was lifted.

Lord Voldemort threw his wand at him, and it clattered on the dirty wooden floor. “Take it and get out. We’re finished here.”

Draco nodded slowly, picked up his wand, walked stiffly out of the room and back down the stairs. His plan was going surprisingly well so far, and at least the Dark Lord hadn’t killed him.

AN*: Wow! I have like, 4 more chapters written down but typing them up seems to take me so long. UGH. I'll do the next one tomorrow, since this one took me hours. Review!
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