About a Girl

Utopia: Mmm, that chocolate sounds delicious. Forget Draco, I'm gonna go buy that stuff!


And yes, the connection between him and Hermione and his reaction to it was a bit more than his lack of affection, although that definately had a role. I was trying to show how PMS has fucked with Draco's head, and how he finally broke down and was vulnerable, and that he does indeed have a heart deep down. And yes, he reacted to the hug and Hermione's concern so violently because it's something he's not used to, and it definately shook him up inside. He's not in love or even attracted to her just yet, but something has sparked deep down, even if Draco isn't sure why. He's going to make up for this moment of weakness by being even more of an ass (as evidenced below), but it definately has an impact on their interactions and perceptions of each other. Because when you see complete care and affection directed at you, it is a bit of an overwhelming feeling, even when hormones aren't taken into account (when they are its worse, hence the reason I've cried a few times when my boyfriend says something sweet during that time of the month). Hopefully, this has broken a few barriers between them, and revealed a bit more of themselves to each other than normal. I hope this makes sense, I was having a bit of a hard time conveying it in the chapter.


DrpnBlood4U: Oh yes, expect some definate cornering...


IrishChic20: Ahh, the dreams of women everywhere. I consider this fic a very overdue rant that I've been longing to express since I got my period at age 10. And Draco gets to bear the brunt of my anger and be a scapegoat for all my womanly agression. Poor bastard.


Damiana: Chocolate!? *jumps around in glee and promptly worships you*


angel: I get that lovely side effect too. I hadn't really planned on giving him that particular problem however; yeah I'm being a softy and having pity on the poor bugger. But jeez, imagine Draco being even more of a horndog than usual, hehe.


princesspeach: Thanks for the editing suggestions; the page width had been irritating me too. I've gone back and made my **** shorter, and that seems to have done the trick. Thanks for the advice!


wicked, Sandra: Thanks for reviewing!



By the way, if any of you are interested, here is a link to some rather funny Harry Potter comics: http://www.closet-space.com/comics/fancomics/simplypotterific.htm

A friend of mine showed them to me; the art is really quite good, and several of them are freakin hysterical. So yeah, I thought I'd put the link up and see if any of you would find it funny.


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In a tradition that has plagued all students since the dawn of education, the rest of the week passed at the speed of slug; it being Tuesday when it really should have been Wednesday, and Thursday feeling far too much like a Friday in everyone's opinion.


By the time Friday finally arrived, the loudest sigh of relief was heard from the new girl, Jocelyn, who flung herself bodily on the largest couch available in the Gryffindor common room, sending the first years who had been sitting there scrambling away, and earning a dirty look from the Head Girl and a giggle from nearly everyone else.


Draco sighed. Had the week been any longer, he would have probably leapt off the Astronomy Tower. Having first pushed Potter, of course.


His period had thankfully only lasted three days, during which time he consumed the entire bar of chocolate that Hermione had given him, managed to put in a tampon in less than 5 minutes, and discovered that the majority of his clothes had suddenly gotten far too small.


"Did you shrink them or something?" Draco demanded angrily, holding up a black skirt. "I didn't think you were that jealous of my ass that you had to sabotage my wardrobe!"


Hermione rolled her eyes. Was everything always about his ass? "You idiot, Malfoy, I didn't do anything. You're just bloated."


Malfoy looked so furious, Hermione thought this would dissolve into an all out catfight. "I am NOT "bloated", Granger! You're one to talk, the way you shovel down food at--"


"It's because of your period," she interrupted loudly. "It makes you retain water, and you become bloated. That's why your clothes don't fit. You'll deflate afterwards, so don't worry about your bloody ass."


Grinning widely at the expression of utter horror on Malfoy's face, Hermione walked cheerfully out of the room and was half out of their common room when she heard a shout of "I AM NOT A BLOODY BALLOON!" and several yells that she couldn't quite catch. She wasn't at all surprised when Malfoy emerged in the tower, clad in dark green sweats and a glare.


Things had been relatively normal between the two of them, despite the incident on Monday night, which Draco was determined to pretend was a hallucination brought about by menstruation, and Hermione was content not to bring up. However, he still seemed rather reluctant to make eye contact with her unless absolutely necessary, which amused her slightly, and made up for his moment of weakness by being even more of an ass than usual, which didn't. She hadn't been nearly as effected by that night as Malfoy, having given many such hugs in her lifetime, although she felt slightly more sympathetic towards him (during rare moments when his mouth was shut), not to mention slightly smug that she managed to melt Malfoy, the Ice Prince, with a single hug.


Periods really could humble even the proudest woman, she thought with a smirk.


Those three days were probably among the most uncomfortable and annoying times that Draco had ever spent. He was beginning to develop such a respect for women, it was a bit frightening. How the hell anyone managed to do this every month for nearly their whole lives baffled him. Although it certainly explained why McGonagall was so bitter. If he had had to put up with Dumbledore offering him a lemon drop every time he was PMSing, he would have hit him in the face with a cauldron.


Even without the aid of hormones, it had been a difficult week. Although he had indeed gotten better at his Jocelyn persona, he still had occasional difficulties such as when he accidentally strolled into the boy's room during break and found himself face to face with Dean Thomas. Stammering, Draco hurriedly apologized for losing a contact lens and not being able to see straight, before scurrying out the door, leaving a blushing Thomas behind. For the rest of the day, he had been unable to make eye contact with Draco without turning beet red and dropping whatever he was holding.


Honestly. Bloody Gryffindor prudes.


And any hope that Potter and Weasely had wonderful hidden qualities that emerged once you got to know them was promptly killed (not that it had been high to begin with, but Draco had been desperate enough to consider it). Their childish antics in class, accompanied by Granger's subsequent huffing in annoyance, was so irritating it was practically impossible to concentrate. Finally, during one Charms class, Draco cracked and told them in the plainest terms to shut up, at which Harry immediately looked sheepish and told a disgruntled Ron to behave. Granger left the room furious that they listened to Draco and not to her, at which he was highly amused.


'They'll be licking her shoes again once that Potions essay is due', he thought in amusement. 'After all, it's not like they keep her around for her looks.'


It also surprised him slightly that he missed his own friends, after spending so much time with the Moronic Trio. Slytherin friendships weren't as cold and calculated as they were commonly perceived to be, and even though there was some degree of hierarchy and connections through money and class, Slytherins could be great friends, although of a different type than most Gryffindors. They were loyal, but not to the point of blindness, respected each other for the most part, and looked after their own, but weren't as outwardly affectionate as the other houses. Draco was far closer to his own group of friends than the majority of the school would expect, and their absence was starting to strain, although he would never have admitted it to their faces.


However, this comradely feeling was being put to the test, and was warring with more powerful feelings of irritation, frustration, and full blown beating-with-a-large-stick indignation towards his Slytherin gang. Or more accurately, towards one specific bastard and supposed best mate.


Over the long years of their friendship, Draco had never gotten truly angry or had a major fight with Blaise, something that most best friends couldn't boast of. However, this was before he had been on the receiving end of Blaise's very persistant advances. Draco supposed that in general being hit on by a close personal friend was awkward and potentially friendship damaging, but this was an entirely different situation, one that even Potty and the Rodent hadn't had a sulky slapfight over.


During an especially foul Transfiguration lesson, Draco had been paired with Blaise; a coincidence that caused Blaise to grin so smugly, Draco half-suspected of him bribing McGonagall before class.


"Well, what a pleasant surprise," Blaise drawled, tilting back in his chair lazily. "Couldn't wait to see me again, huh? Just had to run to your head of house and beg her to partner us together."


Draco was rendered so speechless for a second, his mouth opened and closed silently, making him look like a beached fish. Self-absorbed prat! How gorgeous did he think he was, anyway? If Draco had been his normal self, no girl in her right mind would look twice at Blaise.


'Well, if I was my normal self, I wouldn't be in this stupid situation!' he reminded himself crossly.


Sputtering with indignation, Draco attempted to sift through his rage and form a coherent response. "I....you ass, how can-"


"It's alright, it's alright," Blaise said soothingly, patting his shoulder in a supposed friendly way, arm brushing against her chest "accidentally" as he did so. Draco flinched and drew back immediately, glaring daggers at the Slytherin. He couldn't been more obvious if he had grabbed Draco's leg and started humping repeatedly."Don't be ashamed, I understand perfectly. But really, if you wanted me so badly, all you had to do was ask. I have a very...giving nature, as I hope you'll soon discover."


Under the table, Blaise's hand slid under the edge of Draco's skirt, and gently rubbed the inside of her thigh. A warm (and not entirely unpleasant, if he was being honest) shock shot through Draco's body, causing him to yelp and jump slightly in his seat, drawing concerning gazes from the Tedious Trio, particularly Potter, who looked as though he was going to charge towards Draco and sweep him off his feet. Smiling and nodding idiotically to convince them he was alright, Draco delivered a well aimed kick to Blaise's right shin, which he knew was suffering from a Quidditch accident from several games ago, earning a sharp intake of breath and watery eyes from the Casanova. Smirking, Draco leaned forward slightly and looked levely into Blaise's dark eyes.


"Thanks for the offer, Zabini," he responded coolly. "But I prefer men who actually have something to give."


And with a meaningful glance at the rapidly deflating bulge in Blaise's pants, Draco walked out as the bell rang, fighting the urge to victory dance.


Yet despite his best (and increasingly hostile) efforts to dissuade him, the irritating bastard still continued to shoot him smoldering glances and wink whenever he had the opportunity. The conceited prick could not take a hint to save his life! How desperate would a woman have to be to be seduced by that persistant jackass? True, Draco often flirted that way himself, but he had more style, more charm, and tended to make women feel sexy and desired and not like a piece of meat.


'So says the great Slytherin manwhore,' an annoying little Grangerlike voice in the back of his head said.


'Oh, shut up,' he replied mentally. At least he had the sense to know when to give up. Draco was seriously contemplating castrating Blaise to stem his raging hormones, best friend or not.


'If I can survive without my balls, so can he,' he thought venomously.


So all in all, Draco felt he deserved a bloody relaxing weekend, free from tampons, magically expanding hips, and irritating gits. He lay back on the sofa, and closed his eyes contentedly at the mere thought.


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Hermione opened her mouth to yell at Malfoy for frightening the first years, but her sore throat and heavy eyelids made her think better of it. What the hell, it's Friday, even the ferret deserves some amnesty.


However, there was no doubt whatsoever that he was being even more of a prat than usual, PMS not withstanding. She strongly suspected that this was her punishment for hugging Malfoy and being witness to his moment of weakness; he was trying to reestablish his cold, Slytherin persona, and make her pay for seeing him in such an embarrassing position. However, knowing the reason didn't make it any more pleasant to endure. Malfoy was hurling insults at her with more frequency and sharpness than ever, and although ordinarily she would never let such stupid things upset her, his continous barbs often stung quite a bit, as much as it shamed her to admit it. Every single part of her anatomy had been scrutinized and critiqued quite thoroughly, her sex life (or lack thereof) analyzed, and personality flaws revealed; there wasn't a single part of her left unturned. Despite her sarcastic and unconcerned responses, Hermione felt many of them quite keenly; after all, one can't hear such slurs constantly and not feel effected. Therefore, it was taking all the resolve she had not to break down in frustration and/or slam his face against the wall until he couldn't speak. His oh-so jolly presence had not been an improvement in her already stressful and hectic week.



However, in a complete turnabout that made Hermione wonder if the fates were conspiring against her, Malfoy had behaved appropriately and nicely to the rest of the house, and especially her group of friends; his frustration being only expressed through several long, furious rants in their common room about the idiocy of Gryffindors and the overall stupidity and thickheadness of certain assholes. She supposed his Slytherin self-preservation winning out over his initial hatred and irritation of them, but it was nonetheless galling to witness him charming her friends, and then returning to their quarters where he seemed determined to make her as miserable as possible.


Looking up from her books, Hermione couldn't help smile as Malfoy was amiably dragged into a game of Exploding Snap with Harry, Ron, and Ginny, his feeble protests that he was tired being ignored completely. The boys' usual cheerfulness had extended to "Jocelyn" from day one, and they made an effort to include her in all their group activities, much to Malfoy's (and indeed, Hermione's) annoyance. Harry's well-meaning, if at times irritating, chivalrous streak was in full force whenever Zabini so much as looked at Malfoy, prompting a flurry of blustering, vague threats to the dark Slytherin that infuriated Malfoy almost as much as the actual flirting.


Ginny's intial frostiness towards Malfoy had melted slightly after yet another Quidditch debate, where the two of them railed against Seamus and Ron, who maintained that men inherently made better Keepers than women. After an entire lunch period of shouting statistics and insulting penises, (a sublime twist of irony that Hermione had found incredibly amusing) Ginny formed a tentative friendship with Malfoy, although she tended to keep an eye on her when Harry was around. Despite many of the Gryffindor girls' mutterings that the new girl was going to toy with both Harry and Ron, and cause a riff among the Golden Trio, neither boy seemed particularly at risk for Malfoy's charms; Harry due to his longstanding crush on Ginny, and because Ron, despite his frequent comments and cat calls towards Hogwarts' attractive females, was as gay as a picnic basket, and would be far more likely to fall for Malfoy in his usual form.


Listening to their laughter and cheers, Hermione wondered what her friends would say if they knew who exactly they were playing cards with.


'They'd probably have a stroke,' she mused idly. 'And all the boys who got excited by the hot, new, French girl would probably have a severe sexual identity crisis when they realize they were wanking over Draco Malfoy, Slytherin man hunk extraordinaire.'


The image of Seamus' face at this realization made Hermione giggle far more violently that perhaps was warranted, and she didn't notice Harry, Ron, and Ginny standing next to her until Ron called her name loudly.


"You look like Kreacher, sitting around, cackling to yourself," he said in amusement. "Shall we get you a portrait to talk to or are you just drunk?"


"Shut up," Hermione replied, attempting to look dignified as Harry and Ginny snorted. "I'm just tired...it's been a long week."


"All that studying is sending you 'round the twist," Harry teased gently. "Cmon and get some sleep. We're all heading in early anyway; gotta get our beauty rest for the match tomorrow."


Hermione stretched and began to put her piles of parchment into her bag. "Mmm, that's right, we're playing against Slytherin. I almost forgot about that."


"And we stand a fairly good chance of beating them, now that the ferret is gone," Ginny replied.


Someone nearby heard her comment and shouted, "Whoooo, down with the snakes!" prompting cheering and a few "Gryffindors for the cup!" around the common room, while Ron clapped and Ginny took a mock bow.


Shaking her head and smiling, Hermione picked up her bag. "Well, don't get too caught up with your groupies that you can't stay on your brooms tomorrow. Where's Jocelyn, by the way?"


"Oh, she went up to your rooms," Harry responded. "She lost the last hand and her face got all singed. She's probably making sure her eyebrows are in one piece."


Noting Ginny's slight smirk, Hermione couldn't help grinning. The redhead knew a variety of tricks and sleights of hand, courtesy of her twin brothers, and it wouldn't surprise her if Ginny had rigged the deck while Harry was entertaining Malfoy with his impersonations of Filch. She waved them good night, and climbed the stairs to the Head's Quarters. Entering the common room, she heard the sound of running water from the bathroom. Knocking on the door, she called, "Malfoy, are you decent? I need to brush my teeth."


"Sod off," came the muffled reply. "I'm busy."


"With what, pray tell?" Hermione asked exasperatedly. "I'm tired and I'd like to go to bed, just let me in for Merlin's sake, it's nothing I haven't seen before anyway!"


After a pause and a good deal of muttering, the door opened slightly and Hermione pushed her way in. Malfoy was wearing a bathrobe and a towel on his head, and an expression of extreme annoyance.


"That damn redheaded bint ruined my eyebrows," he said furiously, examining his face in a handmirror. "Stupid, jealous cow; as if I'm really that desperate enough to go after the Boy-Who-Couldnt-Find-His-Cock-If-It-Hit-Him-In-The-Face."


Hermione snorted slightly. "Oh, stop being such a prissy drama queen, your eyebrows are perfectly fine. Millions of people in this world have far more serious problems, so do shut up."


"Well, unlike you, Granger, I actually happen to take pride in my appearance. Of course, having met the Gryffindors, I can't really blame you for trying to repulse male attention."


"Oh, yes, another 'Hermione is ugly' joke, how bloody witty," Hermione snapped, having reached the end of her patience. She was suddenly filled with an intense rage, bubbling up from deep places that hadn't been revealed to anyone besides herself. She was tired, irritable, and would be damned if she listened to him belittle every single aspect of her appearance, personality, and life any further. She whipped around and faced Draco directly, her nostrils flaring and her hair sticking out from behind her ears wildly. He took a step backwards, pressing against the counter, his eyes wide in surprise. "I'm not the one who's so desperate, that when a sleazy manwhore chases her bony ass around, she flaunts it around as proof that she's hot shit."


Malfoy opened his mouth, either in shock or to speak, but Hermione cut him off, her voice growing steadily louder, and more bitter than she had ever heard coming out of her own mouth.


"You're the same, aren't you, whether you have a dick or not. You're a bloody slag, that's what you are, plain and simple. You're only worth something if someone wants to fuck you. And all the other slags try to fuck you so they can say they did, and you can feel like something special. You don't define yourself by anything else, do you? And when someone breaks through your armor and manages to see that there may be something else under there, you can't fucking handle it, can you? Cause you're so used to being a whore, you don't know how to be anything else, and it scares you that someone might see how empty you are. You know," Hermione let out a mirthless chuckle, her voice choking slightly as the overflow of emotions caused a lump to form in her throat and her eyes to tear unexpectedly. However, she was still too full of anger to feel embarrassed. "You know," she began again, "I used to think that you were so cold and cocky because you were hiding something deeper, more meaningful under the surface that you didn't want anyone else to see. But now, well, I know it's because there's nothing else there; you're just a whore who skates by on his looks and it's the only way you know how to make yourself feel like somebody. I almost feel bad for you, Malfoy. Cause when this whole thing is reversed and you become yourself again, that's not going to fucking change. So yeah, sit around worrying about your eyebrows, Malfoy. Stuff your bra, spread your legs, the works. 'Cause let's face it, it's all you fucking have, isn't it?"


It seemed as though all of her fury at his behavior this week and hidden demons from the past were manifesting themselves in a rage against Malfoy. Every comment about her looks or sexiness rubbed against a raw spot deep in her soul; all the times a relative had called her plain, every girl that had laughed at her buck teeth and bushy hair, every boy that glanced over her to a prettier girl, everytime she had looked in the mirror and cursed what she saw as inadequate, all these ancient scars and wounds that still prickled continously were being reopened by Malfoy's words. Hermione watched almost as an outsider as the words poured out and all the accusations and insults she longed to hurl tumbled wildly out towards the boy who was the embodiment of all the insecurities that made her life hell. She knew they weren't the wisest things to say, and that she would regret them later, and that they weren't really what she meant to say at all, but she couldn't help it. They needed to be said, like drawing poison from snake bite.


"So, yeah, just something to keep in mind the next time you need something to start crying about. You can go to Zabini then, yeah, I'm sure he'll be real sympathetic."


Storming out of the room and slamming the door behind her, Hermione ran through the common room, leaving a dumbfounded Draco behind.


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Whoa. Angry Hermione. Yeah, this chapter is a bit more like the last one, in terms of angst, emotions, and great, purging, rants, etc. And although this may seem like a somewhat irrational and stupid thing to put in, and that it throws the whole rhythm and plot off, it will make sense (hopefully). More of Hermione's reasoning and Draco's reaction to this will appear in the next chapter. I hope I made her emotions and feelings clear; his will be analyzed more thoroughly in the next chapter, but I hope you understand why he was needling her anyway.


Please review: give suggestions, constructive criticisms, questions, etc. Anything you so wish.


PS: November is National Novel Writing Month in the United States. Many authors and would-be authors around the country try to write an entire novel in a month, for fun, education, as an experiment, to test themselves, etc. I know we're already into the month already, and I doubt anyone here is actually going to try it, but I thought I'd spread the word anyhow! Go out and type your little hearts out! Release the novels within your souls!