To Play with Fire

Disclaimer: I own only plot and pleasure of writing. All hail J.K.Rowling!


Chapter 5

To Know Your Enemy's Darkest Secret


Hermione came in and spotted Draco right away. He hadn't noticed her yet so she halted her steps to watch him. Blaise was not with her today because he had to work on a paper and he'd said it was impossible to concentrate with her so near. It was flattering in a way but also a little bit annoying. She did not see herself as a sexual object but all her boyfriend wanted to do, was touch her. They rarely even talked. While in public they made some small talk and then Blaise always dragged her into some dark corner to snog her silly with emphasis on the “silly”. It was really a pointless waste of time, of course she loved her boyfriend and it could be sweet from time to time to kiss some but to spend all their time together making out started to grate on her nerves. Thankfully they usually weren't together a whole day straight or else she wouldn't accomplish anything at all.

Sometimes she even thought that working on the project with Draco was a lot more fun. She felt funny when she thought about it. Somehow... guilty? How can you feel as if you cheated on your boyfriend studying in the library with a guy you didn't even like?

Draco was sitting in the corner reading one C. D. Grubber. His head was propped on his left hand, hair was shining in the soft evening light and his left brow was wrinkled in concentration. He didn't really present a peaceful picture, he rarely did. Draco Malfoy was too taut for that, too put together, too controlled. There was a constant tension in his body.

Sometimes Hermione wished she could catch him alone just to see what he was like when he was relaxed. Did he even know how to do that or was he always as high-strung? She still thought he was obnoxious half a time but he rarely acted as a prick now and never with her, so from time to time she did find him handsome. And now, sitting in the library in relative solitude he looked... Somehow he looked cute. She smiled.

At that moment as if suddenly alerted that he was being pried upon Draco raised his eyes. Hermione's breath caught – Draco's silvery eyes lit up. A jolt went through Hermione but the next second the light in his eyes was gone and the all too familiar guarded look appeared along with a Malfoy patented smirk, “Finally, Granger, forgot yourself snogging again?”

The word 'snogging' was delivered in such a clear distaste that Hermione bristled, “As if you've never done it too! I've heard plenty of your Slytherin parties!”

“Rumours, Granger, rumours,” he closed his book and continued in a neutral voice, “you found time to look at the material I gave you last time?”

It was as close to an apology as Malfoy was capable of, Hermione knew, but she was still peeved. In her heart she agreed that what she'd been doing with Blaise was out of line, so it aggravated her to no end that Draco Malfoy was the one who had chastised her.

“Rumours, Malfoy, really? So did I imagine a certain blond stumbling out of the dungeons last May, drunk as a fairy in a cauldron, his arms full of one Miss Parkinson, who you unceremoniously dumped in a worst way possible, might I add?” Her fists were on her hips and right foot on the verge of tapping from irritation.

Draco inhaled, trying to restrain himself, “So, I've been known to party from time to time. And leave Pansy out of it! She's got nothing to do with it!” Bringing Pansy up was a mistake as far as she was concerned, because apparently it was one topic that set Draco off easier than anything. His hands were now in fists, hidden as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Like hell she doesn't! I know you've kissed her in public plenty of times!” She wasn't sure if he had or hadn't but for the sake of the argument she decided to pretend that he had. Besides, it was Malfoy! The odds were, he had done the dirty deed and then some.

Draco's eyes narrowed into slits. How dare she judge him like that when she knew nothing about him! “It's not I who is constantly going at it like a horny hippogriff on every surface of the school!” His voice had now dropped to a low hiss and his eyes were pools of dark hurt which Hermione, naturally, did not recognize as such.

“We have not...!” She huffed. His words put her on a defensive which for her – as for most people - meant going out on full offensive, “At least I don't treat people like scum, you, you...! You are no gentleman Malfoy! How you treated your fiancée is a disgrace! No sane woman would ever go out with you after that! You are... you are disgusting!”

It surprised her greatly when he went all still, his face stony.

In a very flat and emotionless voice he said, “It is the second time you have brought Miss Parkinson up. For your information, we were betrothed by our parents since birth but in reality she has never even been my girlfriend. I have certainly made no promises to her of any kind and she knows it. Whatever she had thought us being, it was all her imagination.” He stood and took his bag up from the floor, shouldering it, “And maybe you should dump your sodding boyfriend in front of the whole school. Might teach him something.” Draco didn't look at her as he moved past her his shoulders rigid.

Hermione watched him leave through the double doors doubt written on her face. Hadn't promised her anything? That's not what I heard! But then again, she'd said it plenty of times herself - gossip came to you as contorted as it only could, there might be a grain of truth in it and might not. Who knew, maybe he was telling the truth?

She moved to the table he'd been sitting at to look at the books he'd taken out. Same old, same, old... She laid her things out, for some work should get done that evening even if she was the only one to do it. She knew, she had to apologise later, because somebody had to and she doubted that Dra... Malfoy would. Besides, she had an inkling that maybe she had managed to hurt his feelings somehow. They had to reconcile to continue with their project.

She closed Grubber and put it aside. There was a slip of a parchment underneath. Malfoy's probably and it looked like a letter. She thought about opening it or not. I won't know if it's his unless I look, she reasoned with herself. Hermione unfolded the parchment. Indeed, it was a letter... Her eyes bulged, “Wha...?”

She closed it quickly and looked around but throughout the argument there had been nobody around and it was still pretty quiet. She took her things and practically ran out, books forgotten.

I have to show it to the boys!


* * *


It was early October and the school was a nuisance. He had strolled out after dinner and had yet to go back in even though he’d been walking for the last hour. In the past, namely before the 5th year at the end of which his father found himself captured and thrown into Azkaban, he had loved school. He had loved his position in society, his wealth and good looks, he had loved following in his father's footsteps, had loved being who everybody thought he was. And well, he probably really was who they thought he was. He just hadn't realised that what he imagined others thought about him and what he thought of himself weren't actually the same things.

Draco had always thought that he was admired and envied, now he knew he'd been feared and despised instead. He knew that because he'd now realised that he had pitied his father since The Ministry Incident and since meeting the great lord voldemort (just like that, without the initial capital) Draco despised his father. He had learned to see himself differently as he had learned to see himself through other people's eyes – spoiled, vain and self-important, obnoxious bully. He realised now that he was as useless as his father had said, though not in a way it had been meant at the time. Now he also knew that he was a disgrace for a wizardkind and disgusting as a person.

He was now walking by the Lake in solitude that he relished and resented at the same time. The autumn wind was picking up, so he fastened his cloak at the neck. He'd been telling himself, that Hermione Granger was wrong to judge him like she had but knew that he would care about her words far less if he himself would not agree with them.

He was disgusting.

A nasty little bugger, who would never accomplish anything worth remembering. A mere boy who's actions would never matter on a large scale of life, even in the course of the war that was brewing. It had been weeks and he had received no new orders from Death Eater Council nor been asked to report. It was like his actions were unimportant even to Voldemort.

Neither had he managed to find out anything about Potter or the Order's plans which was to be expected as no Gryffindor would ever trust him anyway. He couldn't understand how Voldemort had even come up with the ridiculous idea in the first place! To order him, Draco Malfoy, to become friends with Harry St Potter. And now, after he'd left the letter he'd received from his father for Hermione to find, it was more unlikely than ever. Of course, he had totally forgotten about it by the time he had left library that night but the parchment was thankfully prepared in advance.

Draco had apologised the next day because somebody had to and he'd doubted that Granger would lower herself in front of the lowest of the low, Draco I'm-so-proud-of-my-lineage Malfoy. Besides, he had acted as an over-emotional idiot. It was something he tended to turn into in her presence. He smiled. She had looked so surprised, incredulous even, when she heard him say the word “sorry”. She hadn't known how to react, so he had saved her the trouble and changed the topic. It was easier that way. They'd been congenially working on the project ever since (it had been two weeks) and now it was almost done.

He had been inventing excuses to postpone some study sessions to prolong the process. He didn't want it to end, his Crush was still on in full force and it didn't seem to be abating. Especially with Blaise around Hermione at all hours! Finishing the project would actually benefit his mental health but he was too weak-willed to give up the opportunity to spend time with her. Besides what would he tell Voldemort? He hadn't managed to make any progress befriending Potter or Weasley though they did sometimes study all together, especially when Blaise was there.

Draco thought that their motivation was probably the letter which requested information about Gryffindor Quidditch practice timetable that Hermione had “found”. But it all usually came down to an eerie silence or snide insults which resulted in no work done. Weasley was just too easy, Draco rarely managed to restrain himself. Potter though gave as good as he got. Draco had to admit, the Gryffindor was a great deal tougher than Draco had given him credit for.

It was easier when the Two Thirds were there because when it was only him, her and that... Zabini... His name was Zabini and it looked like he wasn't going anywhere. Jealousy rose in him unbidden and Draco's hands clenched into fists. Left one started throbbing before he got his feelings under control. Draco had started to think that maybe he had fractured his hand and it had grown together wrong because it sometimes ached without any reason at all, he couldn't write at length and sometimes it suddenly lost its strength. He started to carry heavy things in his right as not to drop something.

It was turning colder as the sun was setting, so he turned back to the castle. As he reached the castle he saw two distant figures making out next to the main entrance. Draco stopped. His breathing turned shallow. It was like that every time he saw them together unexpectedly. Draco lowered his eyes and strode purposefully ahead, determined to pass them seeing as little as he possibly could.

There was no way he could stay firm of course, so when he was level with the couple he glanced up. Hermione was with her back towards Draco, Blaise's one hand was caressing her bum and the other was in her hair. He was taking his time kissing her face around the temple. Draco couldn't see Hermione's face but he sure as hell saw Blaise's. He was looking straight at Draco, his eyes mocking and triumphant.

It was only for a second and Draco was in the hall the next moment. Why, you little piece of shit! He was panting with rage as he stormed blindly towards the dungeons.

When he was in their present for constantly, he could control his reactions pretty well but at times Draco had suspected that Zabini had somehow caught on to his feelings for Hermione. So he had been right! Draco reached the dungeons and entered the Common Room. There were some hello's but he ignored them continuing towards his bedroom. He hurt for Hermione. A lot. Did Zabini care for her at all or was it once again just some Zabini's twisted plot to have something he knew Draco wanted?

Draco thought about the blissful expression Hermione got every time she looked at Blaise and his heart ached in pain.


TBC