This Is War

Fights and Fake Blood

In all her years of being best friends with Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the number one target of any dark wizard or witch, Hermione Granger knew that the concept of time was not to be taken lightly. Every hour, every minute, every second was precious. Every moment of time held valuable information that could be deadly or save them all for another day to come.

Time was not to be messed with, meddled with, or wasted. Time, to them, to those ferociously loyal to Harry, was almost like an analogy of sand seeping through the cracks of your fingers. It was quick, like the wind. There was not one moment of all those years that Hermione did not blink and wondered where Time had gone.

Now, however, after she was viciously morphed into the Slytherin Prince's body, Time was being a bitch and taking its time to get the show on the road.

She blinked up from the parchments of homework scattered on her table, looking at the magical clock hanging on the wall ahead of her. Two minutes had passed since the last time she checked. And two minutes ago, like the past few hours she'd managed to walk in Malfoy's shoes, literally, she wanted to kill herself.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Looking away from the clock that was not budging, that was dragging its second hand  painfully slow, Hermione narrowed her eyes at the dark-haired witch in front of her, who tapped her finger loudly on the tabletop. 

"I can't believe we almost had a free double Potions," Pansy sighed in annoyance, forgetting all about the work in front of her. "But, of course, leave it to the old hag McGonagall to come swooping in and telling us to use the four hours to study for our N.E.W.T's."

Next to Pansy, Daphne Greengrass, a girl with luscious blonde hair and intimidating eyes, scoffed at the girl's comment. "There should be no complaining on your behalf, Pansy. From your poor marks last year, you need all the time to study in order to make it out of here in a few months."

"Oh, precious, precious, annoyingly brainy Daphne," Pansy spoke with her voice thick in irritated sarcasm. "Can you please take your righteous attitude and move it to the Ravenclaws at the other end of the library?"

Hermione blinked away from the two girls in front of her, her eyes darting past them and onto the clock on the wall behind them. As she did so, she noticed the aisles of books, the students gathered in circled-tables and studying together. She knitted her eyebrows, frowning to herself. Not only was Time torturing her, it was also messing with her concentration.

"Forgive me if I'm actually smart enough," Daphne Greengrass retorted in returning, earning her  Hermione's attention again. "Or what is it, Pansy? Are you counting on the school to blow up once the Death Eaters manage get in, just so you won't have to bother with your education?"

Pansy looked instantly enraged, her dark eyes impossibly darker. "Why do you always have to bring that up?" 

Despite the anger on Pansy's face, Daphne did not budge. "Because you're the one who can't wait for that moment," she hissed back. "Because you seem to be under the diluted idea that once that happens, you'll be spared and treated like the princess you wish to be."

"Seems to me, Greengrass, that you're implying I'm going to be killed." Pansy was still aggravated, but something changed in her eyes. "Because if that's your diluted idea, then I suggest you revise it. Who do you think will go first? Me or you—the Blood Traitor?"

Hermione's attention was far away from the clock now as she stared shockingly at the two Slytherins.

"Under your definition, Parkinson, what makes me the Blood Traitor?" Daphne continued the fight. "The fact that my education is far more important to me than wishfully waiting for Death Eaters to come and rescue me? Or, perhaps, it's the fact that I've chosen to refrain myself from picking a side, alike my family? Is that what makes us enemies?"