Whatever It Takes (DRAMIONE) (Beta) ❧

Chapter II: ❧

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The world moved in slow motion. 

Turning in time, Hermione landed on her rear, clutching the bottle to her chest. It took her a second to process what had just happened. Looking down at her hands she saw that the bottle was still completely intact. She let out a sigh of relief and looked up to see what had caused her to fall.

And, in turn, saw none other than Draco Malfoy himself. 

If Hermione had to describe the intense loathing she had for Draco Malfoy in a sentence, even with her extensive vocabulary, she couldn't do it. 

She could recall, however, when she struck him last year. The words she used then seemed quite fitting at the time. The image of the red, palm shaped mark she made and the astonished look on his usually placid face would burn in her memory forever. She nearly laughed at the thought. 

Hermione was brought out of her thoughts by the tittering of her classmates. Pansy Parkinson in particular had gotten quite the kick out of Hermione's trip. Hermione felt the heat rush to her face; she had the sudden desire to curl up into a tiny ball to avoid the derisive stares from the students clad in green. She locked eyes with the smug boy above her; his blue-grey eyes glittered tauntingly and a smirk inched it's way across pale features. Malfoy leaned forward, one elbow propped up on his knee. He placed his chin on the palm of his hand.  From a distance, it might seem he was thoughtfully contemplating some small object on the ground. His eyes raked the girl splayed before him in what seemed to be in a mocking way, if that was possible. 

Malfoy's silky drawl cut through her very core, "So, Granger, I see you've finally found your place in the world." This roused up a few chuckles from some of the Slytherins and glowers from the Gryffindor side. Hermione glared at the blonde. If looks could kill, she would need a broom to sweep up the burnt ashes of the Malfoy heir.  

"Comfy, Granger? Do you find yourself under men often?" Some of the Gryffindors threw scathing comments towards the blond as the Slytherins guffawed. 

"Oi-. Shut it, Malfoy." That would be Dean. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Ron storming over. 

Great.

Fighting with Malfoy was like a dance. Each cutting word moved with each other in a flowing and steady formation as each "partner" went back and forth, trying to lead. The only problem, however, is that Hermione didn't ask to be apart of this dance at all and had no idea how to. For four years now, Malfoy tormented her. She had never done anything to him, but because of her blood and his arrogance-. 

One year of peace is all she's asking for. But stupid Malfoy. And here she had hoped he'd grown up a bit and would've decided to leave her alone. 

I guess hitting the git wasn't enough to knock the bigotry out of him. 

This was ridiculous. And she was reaching her snapping point. 

Until now, Hermione had always been stumbling around blindly as Malfoy took charge in these "dances". Perhaps it was about time she took control. 

"No, Malfoy, but I do seem to find myself under a young boy at the moment. You're quite acquainted with that situation, I'm sure," she quipped. 

Everyone froze at Hermione's comment. A second passed before a single laugh echoed off the walls; it was enough to set off everyone else. The Gryffindors cackled derisively and some whooped at her bravado. Hermione noticed that even Blaise Zabini was struggling to restrain a grin. Ron had stopped in shock before laughing along with everyone else.