Claiming Hermione

“I don’t know how you can stand being around that smart-ass, mudblood bitch! I think I’d rather have my eyes cut out than have to look at her all the time!”

Three days after Granger’s dismissal of the dark Slytherin had done nothing to assuage his anger. For the last thirty minutes Draco had listened to Zabini’s incessant whining about her, not to mention the group Granger-bashing that had taken place at just about every meal among his old comrades. Draco tried to remember if in the past he’d been as unrelenting about it, about her, as Zabini was being now. He appeased his ego with the thought that at least he included her boy toys in his rants. He also kept things in balance by frequently complaining about Gryffindors in general, the very existence of Hufflepuffs, and more than a few boring Ravenclaws. At least he was well-rounded.

Zabini, though, really had it in for Granger and had no qualms telling him about it. It was true that Draco had hated her, but Zabini’s hatred bordered on something maniacal. It unnerved Draco.

Currently, the two tall boys were walking along the corridor that housed the HCR, one talking animatedly with a fierce scowl and the other looking bored. Draco let Blaise carry on, letting Zabini interpret his silence however he wished. He’d tried changing the subject a number of times only to have Zabini bring the conversation around to Granger and her unworthiness once again. Finally, he told Zabini to come with him so he could pick up his mail from the HCR, hoping to at least get something productive done while he was bombarded with a list of Granger’s faults. A list he was pretty sure that he had authored himself.

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Breakfast on Tuesday morning was a rowdy affair at the Gryffindor table with excited chattering about the upcoming dance and the start of the Quidditch season. Hermione frowned as she tried to shove her organizer back into her bag only to have it keep meeting some resistance. Her brain finally woke up and she hauled the bag up onto her lap to locate the offender. She pulled out two broken quills, a now-battered roll of parchment, and her books for her second two classes. With a sudden realization that she’d left her Arithmancy book in the HRC, she forgot about the traffic jam, shoved everything back in her bag (a little more neatly this time) and told a distracted Ron and Harry that she’d see them later in Potions.

With only fifteen minutes to grab her book and make it to class, Hermione hurried along the corridor. As she neared the portrait entrance, she saw that it had been left ajar and she could hear a muffled voice inside. Her curiosity peaked since neither she nor Malfoy usually brought people back to the room and the prefects only came in for their weekly meeting. Maybe Draco was counseling a prefect that was upset about something. The voice certainly sounded upset.


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“You know what I’d like to do to that little cunt?” Annoyed, Draco cringed at Zabini’s crudeness.

“Pray tell” he replied with no hint of interest and healthy dose of sarcasm.

“I’d like to take the Gryffindor Princess off her fucking pedestal. It’s about time someone showed her what she’s made for. I’d wipe the fucking shine off her pristine fucking face. She’s a goddamned prude and I’m so sick of the stick up her ass. She deserves to be fucked in the mud like a pig.” Blaise spat.

“Fuck Zabini!” Draco was appalled. “I’m going to have Obliviate myself. Could we not talk about this anymore? I might have to stick hot pokers through my eyes to get the pictures of Granger naked and having sex out of my head.”


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Hermione quietly slipped through the open portrait so she wouldn’t be intruding, but was met with not a prefect, but one of her newest least favorite Slytherins, no make that two of her least favorite Slytherins. Draco’s and Zabini both had their backs to her while Draco was flipping through a book he’d just pulled off the shelf.

“I might have to stick hot pokers through my eyes to get the pictures of Granger naked and having sex out of my head.”

She couldn’t decide if she should be mortified that they were talking about her like that, or if she should perform a decapitation spell on Malfoy. What do I care what Malfoy thinks! He can rot in hell! she thought.

“I’d be happy to acquire some hot pokers for you, Malfoy. I’ll even help you shove them in.” She spat angrily at the backs of the two boys. By the time they’d whipped around, the portrait hole was slamming shut.

Draco bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Fucking fantastic! Before Blaise could comment, he said, “I’ve got to get to Arithmancy. I’ll see you at lunch, yeah?”

Blaise headed for the door. “Yeah. And Draco, mark my words, the head girl is going down!”

Draco rolled his eyes and when Zabini was gone, he tilted his head back and let out a loud sigh. He was exhausted and the day had hardly begun. He pulled the contents of his cubby out and stuffed into his bag. On his way out, he spied Granger’s forgotten Arithmancy book, and picked it up since they had class together. This was going to be a great fucking day!


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Arithmancy did not go at all the way Draco expected it to. On his way, he wondered exactly what Granger had overheard. As disgusting as it was, he half hoped that she’d heard what Zabini had said, although he’d truly wished he hadn’t heard it himself. Zabini’s madness over Granger had him a little worried. He’d known Zabini most of his life, but he wasn’t really sure if Zabini would act on his threats or not. But, as Head Boy he had an obligation to look out for all students, even the Head Girl. If Granger had heard him, then maybe she would be on guard around him. But, since she had only responded to his own words, Malfoy thought it wasn’t likely.

He walked up the aisle of the small classroom. Not many students took Arithmancy. It was considered “hard” which translated to “not worth my few brain cells” by most of the students. Draco had more than a few brain cells and secretly enjoyed the challenging class. As he slipped into the classroom, he prepared himself for an onslaught of death glares, cleverly concealed barbs, and shit, she might even just hex him outright. He took a deep breath and walked up to her desk. He dropped her book casually in front of her and hoped she’d take it as a peace offering. It was a bit much to ask, he knew, but he just didn’t have the wherewithal to weather her temper today, especially after putting up with Zabini’s temper all morning already.

But Draco didn’t get hexed, or glared at, or anything. He got absolutely nothing. She didn’t even breathe in his direction. He supposed he should be grateful for that at least. He’d have to say something later, but for now, he’d just sit down and forget about it.

Class didn’t start for another five minutes and Draco took the stack of messages from his cubby out. In the middle of the small pile was his guidelines book, bringing The Knee Incident fresh to his mind, which oddly brought Blaise to his mind. He pushed the images away quickly and opened the booklet. Stuck inside the front cover was a small piece of parchment.

This is really good. Nice work.

Hermione

From the back of the class as small thud was heard as Draco’s forehead collided with his desk. Fuck.


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