Found | Dramione

1 3 - Lies and Libraries

Wednesday, December 20th, 2000

Something was wrong with Hermione. For once, she hadn't reacted to his countless insults and jokes. She didn't bat an eye when Draco called her by her first name. Short of calling her a Mudblood—which he would never do; the word was horrifying and he was shocked at his own behavior during Hogwarts, given the number of times the slur would leave his lips—Draco was at a loss for what to do. He'd encountered an angry Hermione too many times than he could count, but she wasn't mad this time. No, this was an entirely new expression. One he wasn't used to seeing on her pretty face.

It was fear. Hermione was one of the bravest witches he knew aside from his mother, and although Draco was sure that she'd been before, the emotion usually didn't seep its way out of her mind and onto her features and into the way she carried out her responsibilities at the Ministry. For Merlin's sake, she wasn't even doing her work properly. That was how he knew something was really wrong. Hermione not completing tasks to perfection was like Bellatrix not torturing an innocent soul every few moments. From the first day he met her, Hermione was on top of whatever work they were set. Even if it meant that she looked half-dead the day after, he knew she would complete the massive amounts of homework teachers would assign them before exams. While Draco's grades had slipped into nonexistence during his sixth year, he knew that not even the near-impossible task of repairing a Vanishing Cabinet would stop Hermione from writing her essay on the Twelve Properties of Dragon Blood discovered by none other than ex-headmaster Dumbledore. Hell, she'd probably have the problem of the cabinet solved with enough time to do Transfiguration homework before heading off to dinner.

It was time to try a new tactic, one that didn't involve teasing or insults. Hermione would be so caught off guard that she would have no choice to acknowledge him.

Draco would simply ask what was bothering her.

He glanced over at Hermione, who was currently staring off into space instead of reading the book that lay open in front of her, hands mindlessly playing with her butterfly pendant.

"Granger," Draco called out. No reaction. That was expected; she had been ignoring him all day. He resisted the urge to stride across the room and shake Hermione to snap her out of the daze she was in.

Of course, he would never do that. Hermione could punch quite hard if she wanted to, as he knew from personal experience, and Draco was quite certain that she wouldn't hesitate to swing at him again.

"Granger," he tried again. "What's wrong?"

Hermione shifted slightly in her chair, casting him a scornful look.

"The fact that you exist," she snapped.

Well. Draco had been hoping for an annoyed glance, but her reaction had far surpassed his expectations.

"How thoughtful of you," he replied, lips twitching at her insult. "You know, that's probably the kindest thing you've said to me all day. More like the only thing you've said to me all day," Draco amended his statement, amusement playing across his aristocratic features.

"Oh shove off, Malfoy," Hermione grumbled. "Can't you see I'm busy?" she gestured to the book on her desk.

"Granger, you haven't turned a page in that book for two hours," Draco said wryly.

"Maybe I was thinking," she replied peevishly.

"I would normally approve of you having daydreams about me, but we have other things like catching a murderer to worry about," Draco tossed her a satisfied smirk as Hermione gave him a halfhearted glare.

"For the record, I wasn't dreaming about you," Hermione clarified. "But if you ever do make an unfortunate appearance in my thoughts, it'll be with my hands around my throat as I cut off your air supply."