You're Mine (A Dramione Story)

Chapter 4: The Breakfast Howler

     Right after Hermione had filled herself, she left the refilling plate and goblet on the desk and walked out of the office. She would not be doing any favors for Professor McGonagall after what had just went down, oh no. She made straight for the owlery. She wanted to tell Harry and Ron everything that had happened that day as soon as possible.
Hermione was seething with anger. Malfoy, that blond, evil, cockroach, oh she would get him much, much worse next time. She had held back only in the slightest because she wanted to believe that he had changed. That was Hermione's weakness; she wanted to believe the best in people, it was something she couldn't control. But she had seen enough tonight, even though he only spoke a few sentences, that he was the same foul, loathsome ferret she had come to know throughout her years at Hogwarts.
"Ooh, lookie who we have here!" Hermione looked up to see Peeves, the school's poltergeist. He was bobbing up and down, legs crossed, flipped upside down, smiling gleefully.
"Is ickie Granger just a wee bit mad about something?" Peeves continued.
Hermione wasn't afraid of Peeves; she was afraid of the disturbance he would cause. She looked him directly in the eye, firmly. "Go bother someone else, Peeves."
"Ohh, but I don't want to! Wittle muggle born, what's got your wittle lion's mane in a knot? Peevesie is always here to help!"
"Peeves," she said, low, warningly.
"Ooh, is it wittle Dwaco Malfoy? Has he hurt your ittie bittie heart?"
"Peeves!" Hermione shouted. She had drawn her wand, and was temporarily restraining herself.
To say that Peeves was a menace was an understatement. He caused havoc everywhere he went. Hermione remembered briefly how he had dropped water balloons on some girls, the night she had first stepped foot into Hogwarts. For Peeves, there were two lines. The first one was a line that one would usually not cross, so naturally, he constantly passed it. The second line was the one that you definitely did not want to cross, for the consequences were ghastly. He knew where to hit hard, and that usually resulted in Filch running flat-footed into the Great Hall, huffing about the poltergeist. Which usually led to the headmaster calling the Bloody Baron. Though Peeves only listened to the Bloody Baron, the ghost of Slytherin house, he would, on some occasions, listen to the staff members; he had never been known to listen to a student, except for two: George and Fred Weasley.
Peeves had crossed the second line for Hermione. How dare he accuse her of liking the bloody ferret, of all people. To accuse her of such a thing would be like saying Gryffindors and Slytherins got along extremely well. Detention, detention, detention, Hermione thought, gripping her wand.
Peeves must have sensed that she was closing to shouting a hex. His eyes flickered to her wand. He spun in the air and zoomed down the corridor, singing, "Granger lurves Dwacoooooo, Granger lurves Dwacoooooo!" Hermione heard the doors to Great Hall bang open, even though the house ghosts had forbidden him from entering.
Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, then exhaled. She stowed away her wand and continued on her way to the owlery.
The owlery was unusually alive. A lot of the times when Hermione had gone in the daytime, it had been quiet. Most of the owls at the owlery were nocturnal, she supposed.
Hermione's eyes landed on the small, wooden table in the corner. Students often composed their letters in here. She made her way over to the desk and sat. She pulled out a roll of parchment and her quill and ink bottle, placing it on the wooden surface. She dipped the tip of her quill into the ink, and began to write:

Dear Ron and Harry if you're there,

You will not believe what has happened today; Draco Malfoy has been made Head Boy. Head Boy! I don't know what Professor McGonagall was thinking. I was talking to Ginny about it before the feast. I'll admit, I got a bit carried away. I was yelling to Ginny all of his faults, and Malfoy had heard. He provoked me, said he's a better dueller than I am. As if. And he called me a mudblood, the foul git. I lost my temper and put a few good hexes on him. He was covered in boils, had buck teeth, and was hanging in the air when Professor McGonagall walked out of the Great Hall with Filch. She sent him to the hospital wing with Zabini. Oh, yes, I almost forgot; Parkinson and Zabini have been made prefects. Anyway, Professor McGonagall dragged me to her office and had a proper talking with me. But what she did next was unbelieveable: she took 50 points from Gryffindor, gave me a week's detention, and ordered me to apologise to Malfoy! At breakfast! And what did Malfoy get? Nothing! Not one, single punishment! Today has been a terrible day! I'm quite tired, so I'll stop my letter here. Maybe if I sleep, I'll wake up to find this was just a horrible dream. I highly doubt it. I'll write soon.
With love,
Hermione