wildflowers // dramione

Chapter 9

As soon as thoughts of her blonde captor interrupted her breakdown, Hermione's sadness turned to anger. Of all the Death Eaters, she was stuck with the foul, loathsome boy she had grown to hate, or so she thought, after all these years. Hermione clenched her fists. In all of her confusion and unanswered questions, only one thing remained for sure. She hated Draco Malfoy.

Hermione ignored the sore feeling in her legs and with emotional fire burning her insides, she rose to her feet. Violently unlocking and opening her door, Hermione stormed into the front room where the platinum blonde boy had last been seen. Turning the corner she scanned the room with a glare. It took her a moment to find him; he had not been in the same place as before. Her anger slowly began to burn out the longer it took to locate the wizard she had subconsciously planned to use an outlet for all her negative emotion. She was just about to try her luck at barging into his bedroom when she noticed a pale someone sitting against the wall to her right, asleep. Hermione was taken aback as she realized the wall bordered her bedroom. She wrapped an arm around her stomach as she realized Draco had been listening to her cry. The fury that had once sent flames throughout her body, for only a second, became a simple spark. It returned in its full glory when she remembered her initial intent when she left her room. Hermione stomped over towards her slumbering rival but paused yet again. The words she had barely heard Bellatrix Lestrange whisper to her blonde nephew rang through her head.

Don't touch the filthy mudblood!

As her brain read the word mudblood, the word "pureblood" left her lips. Hermione hated her suddenly prejudiced thoughts but didn't let it stop her from her mission. Instead of shaking awake Draco, she searched for an object to throw at his head. Words of advice whispered to her over and over again.

Hermione, no! He's not worth it! Ron shouted.

Violence is never the answer, her mother whispered.

Their words sent sharp pains through her again. Knowing she was being difficult, Hermione ignored her mother and best friend's advice. When no worthy objects could be found at a first glance, Hermione substituted something she believed to be even better. In a few strides, she held her orange mug and moved back towards Draco.

"Bloody hell! What the fuck!" Draco hissed as the now cold tea hit him. "Granger, you absolutely insufferable, ridiculous, bi-"

"Shut up, Malfoy! Of all the people to be stuck with, I get you! You godawful, dreadful prick!" Hermione interrupted, screaming.

Draco, now fully awake and dripping tea off his white hair and black t-shirt, scrambled onto his feet and got in the stubborn witch's face.

"Granger, you shut up! You think I want to be here either?! You think I want to deal with your horrid presence every day for who knows how long?! You think I want to deal with your random psychotic outbursts!? You're pathetic! Insane and pathetic!"

"Me!? I'm pathetic?! I'm not the one completely owned by my obnoxious fool for a father!"

"You will never talk about my father again!" Draco bellowed, cutting the space between his and Hermione's faces in half. Drops of tea hit her face. "You filthy, disgusting, mud-blooded brat!"

Hermione knew she had hit a nerve. She stepped back, almost scared by how loud and angry he was. He laughed when she took her step away from him. His amusement sent a wave of anger through Hermione.

"You're sickening! Abhorrent! Truly vile!" Hermione screeched.

"So what?! You're stubborn and ignorant and a bloody bitch! At least I'm not completely owned by the great Harry Potter!" He spat, mocking Harry and using Hermione's own frame of insult against her.