Dirty Little Secret - All - American Rejects
"Strictly forbidden, of course it is," Hermione muttered to herself, scribbling out a few choice words from her letter. The list she was slowly compiling grew longer until it finally reached at least a foot in length. Content that it was enough she smiled and leaned away, allowing the ink to dry easier. The idea of a time capsule was simple, yet clever all the same. She wondered idly who had come up with the idea. Her eyes scanned the page reading the ones that popped out to her.
'Secret Number 7, The war with Voldemort still continues. I don't think I'll be strong enough if the time comes for me to fight.'
'Secret Number 13, I suspect Ron has liked me for some time. In truth, his lack of courage to say something astounds me. I wonder how he got into Gryffindor in the first place.'
'Secret Number 14, I wonder if I was put in the right house, maybe Ravenclaw would have been better?'
'Secret Number 50, I hate dentists.'
She had ended at Number 76, 'I have to admit, I do hope that Madam Maxime and Hagrid never have children. I don't want to baby-sit a baby Grawp, albeit a better behaved and better educated baby Grawp,' when the door opened after a quick and hasty knock. When she turned around her eye caught on the white blonde hair first, followed by a pair of bored grey eyes.
"Patrol duties, Granger," Draco Malfoy drawled, his eyes giving her the once over. With great embarrassment, Hermione realized she only wore a white camisole and pair of dark pink, cotton pajamas.
"Be out in a minute," she told him, turning back to face her desk, her cheeks red. He chuckled before closing the door.
Hastily Hermione threw on another shirt as well as her robes, and pinned her silver Head Girl badge on her left side, just above the Gryffindor crest. A pair of black shoes and socks came next. She looked in a mirror once they were on. Her hair was tousled and as unruly as ever and her eyes had remnants of make-up from earlier that day. She knew she looked like crap but she really didn't care. She met Draco outside the Head Girl and Boy entrance portrait a couple minutes later.
"Nice pants," he complimented, bemused. She muttered a thank you quietly as they began their patrol in silence.
"What classes are you taking this year?" Draco asked, sounding generally interested.
"Um, I'm taking Advanced Potions, Transfiguration, Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Ancient Runes. What about you?" This was the first time they'd held a conversation since term began two nights ago, a civilized one at that.
"Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions and Charms, Remedial Transfiguration, and . . . that's it." He said after a moment's silence.
"If you don't mind me prying, why're you taking Remedial Transfiguration?" Hermione asked, lighting her wand silently as they rounded the corner and began their way down a poorly lit path.
"Let's just say it's not my strong point," he muttered. Hermione was about to say something when his finger met her lips, effectively quieting her. She blushed, but Draco was turned away and didn't notice it. Giggles came from behind a stout statue of an old, crippled witch with a flower in her hand. 'Nox,' Hermione thought and the light in her wand went out. Draco pulled his finger away and stalked closer, Hermione following as quietly as she could.
"What do we have here?" Draco asked, his wand coming to life with light, illuminating a couple. She recognized hem almost immediately, having spent the past six years of her life around them. Ron and Lavender, Lavender's hands caught in his red hair, both of them starring at Hermione and Draco surprised.
Ron cursed quietly, "Hermione," he began. She cut him off, "Why'd you decide to snog here? You two don't exactly seem to mind if people watch you two. So, why are you out of the common room after hours?" Neither said anything, both looking away embarrassedly.
Draco stepped in, "Ten points from Gryffindor a piece for very poor judgment," he said, "And I'm going easy this time. Now back to your common room." They both left quickly, Ron looking back one last time at Hermione.
"You handled that rather well," Draco said with a hint of curiosity edging in, "Weren't you and Weasley going out?"
Hermione shook her head, "No, we never were." Draco shrugged and turned away. But before he had, Hermione noticed a very small smile taking up residence on his lips. They finished patrolling quickly after that. Draco bid her a goodnight when they began to go to their own rooms, gracing her with the same, small smile she had seen before. She couldn't help but return it.
Back in her room, Hermione fixed Secret Number 13 to, 'Ron might have liked me before, but I'm very grateful he's moved on to Lavender . . . again'. There was still a little room left at the very bottom, she noticed. Dipping her quill back into its ink bottle, she wrote Secret Number 77, 'My dirtiest secret yet, I think I'm falling for Draco Malfoy. And truthfully, I'm rather happy about it'. As soon as the ink had dried she sealed it, placing it in a small shoebox labeled, 'DO NOT OPEN', and with that last notion in her head, crawled into bed and fell asleep.
Addicted - Kelly Clarkson
Draco looked down at the pitch, his teammates skittered below him. His eyes flitted from the score, 70 Slytherin and 50 Hufflepuff, to the pass off between the opposing chasers, Tawny and King. Zambini, his team's newest chaser, dove between the two just as Tawny let lose the quaffle, stealing it back and rocketing off to the other goal post. Neither of the Hufflepuff beaters could send a bludger fast enough, and Zambini scored after easily feigning to the right and throwing to the left. His eyes traveled towards the Gryffindor stands, fixing on the Head Girl, flanked by Weasley and Potter on both ends.
All three were booing Zambini's move. For a brief moment, Draco could imagine himself down there, beside her, egging on the Hufflepuffs. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, struggling to focus on the match. This was his last year, and damnit he was going to win that Quidditch Cup! If they beat the Hufflepuffs, they would face off Gryffindor, something he'd instilled in everyone's mind once he had been appointed Quidditch Captain.
His mind wandered again as the snitch was no where to be found, and he let it. Hermione's face instantly came to his mind, her smile that she had given him a couple nights ago had blown him away. Never had he thought she'd ever smile at him, just him. He smiled at the thought.
"Hey, Malfoy, are you alright?" Zambini said beside him. Draco turned to look at him, nodding and blinking several times to bring his mind back on track. Something gold glittered below, and without another word to Zambini, Draco shot towards the ground. The cold air felt good on his face, blowing his hair back and out of his eyes. He was closing in on the snitch, and leveled out, following it as it zigzagged across the field. The Hufflepuff Seeker, Terrance Hartselle, followed slowly after him. Draco could almost hear him urging on his Comet 260, and smirked. There was no way that piece of trash could compare to his Nimbus 2001. Despite that it was outdated it still out flew the Comet.
His left hand reached out and his eyes looked ahead of him a little ways. For whatever reason the snitch was flying directly towards the Gryffindor stands, aimed in front of Hermione. His eyes caught on to hers, but he tore his gaze away as something golden hit his palm. Closing his hand, he swerved to the right and rocketed skyward until he was a comfortable distance from Hermione. He grinned, raising the hand that held the snitch skyward. Enormous cheers came from the Slytherin end, as boos resounded through the rest of the stadium.
He flew to the ground, eyes searching the stands for familiar bushy, brown hair covered partially by a red and golden scarf. But Hermione had already left. Hands slapped him on the back as his peers surrounded them. He grinned at them and raised the snitch in the air again to victorious cheers. Madam Hooch stepped in and he placed the Snitch back in the box.
"Nice game, Mr. Malfoy,” she commented, "Good, fair, clean for the most part. Good luck with your match against Gryffindor."
"Thank you, Madam Hooch," he said smiling.
"Hey, Malfoy, party in the Slytherin common room at 3, see you there," Zambini said, walking off with a group of sixth year girls. Draco grinned and nodded, heading off to the Slytherin locker room. As he passed the doors he saw the Golden Trio standing near the stands, Weasley and Potter with their brooms in their hands. Hermione, looking out of place, was saying something to them, but her eyes were elsewhere, scanning the ground. They stopped on him. Both of the boys turned to see what she was looking at.
"Good game, Malfoy," Hermione said coolly. He nodded, "I expect the best from the Gryffindors, Potter," he said, turning his eyes to The-Boy-Who-Lived. Potter nodded curtly, turning back to Hermione. Ron said nothing, his eyes merely fixed on Draco. Draco smirked, "You know, I'm sure I can get you a picture if you want, Weasley, it does last longer."
Ron scowled and mounted his broom, riding off onto the field. Potter followed after, leaving Hermione and Draco. He nodded once before heading inside. Her face swam in his mind's eye, and it refused to leave even as he turned on the icy cold water. God damnit, pull yourself together, he told himself, shaking his head to try and get rid of her face, to try and get rid of her. She had invaded him, taken over his mind and kept him her prisoner. Try as he might, he couldn't get rid of her and he couldn't forget her smile.
He dried himself off and put his school robes back on, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. He walked up towards his dorm alone, thinking his predicament over in his head. He'd never thought of Pansy like this, not even when they were dating. What had Hermione done to him? Great, now he was calling her Hermione.
Speak of the devil, he thought as he entered the Head common room and found Hermione curled up with a book on the black loveseat, facing the fire.
"Granger, can I talk to you?" He asked. She looked up at him and nodded, marking her spot.
"I've been meaning to talk to you, too," she said, "you first, though."
He looked down, assembling his thoughts, and said, "What have you done to me?" His head rose to see her eyeing him curiously. He elaborated, "I can't get you out of my mind. You're all I've been able to think about for the past couple days. I just want to know what you've done, so I can undo it." He mentally slapped himself for sounding so helpless. She shook her head, "I haven't done anything to you, I swear."
"That can't be possible!" he said, "You're the only thing in my head! I can't concentrate on Potions, DADA, I can't even think about Quidditch!"
Hermione's voice and eyes hardened, "What's impossible, that you could think of a mudblood like me without being disgusted, is that what you're thinking?"
Draco took a hold of her shoulders, looking at her straight with burning eyes, "I am not my father. Do you think I'm like him? I hate him more than I've hated anyone! I will never be like him; I will never call you a mudblood, Hermione." There, he'd said what he'd been meaning to. She just looked up at him, her eyes wide. Without thinking about it, he leant down and took her lips with his own, pressing lightly so as not to harm her. Alarms sprang in his head and he released her quickly. An embarrassed blush covered his pale cheeks, and he hurried up to his dorm, taking the stairs leading there three at a time, disappearing with a slam of the door.
Why had he done it? He couldn't wrap his head around his actions, he couldn't figure it out. Was it possible, maybe he did actually like her, at least a little? He didn't want to think about it, not now. All he needed now was a good ride on his broom that should help clear his mind. He just needed a fly without competition and without Hermione Granger to watch him. When he walked back down Hermione was mercifully gone. He heard loud music, the Weird Sisters, pouring from her room, and crept out as quietly as he could.
The Quidditch pitch was empty when he got there and he mounted his broom quickly, flying off into the clouds soon after. Like before the cold wind in his face felt good, and served to push all his pestering thoughts out of his mind. His broom twisted and turned spectacularly without any hesitation. What's so great about the Firebolt? The Nimbus 2001 is just as powerful, he thought. Somewhere in the stands someone sat, and he could feel their eyes on him. He pulled a 180 in the air and flew towards the neutral stands.
"Are you kidding me?" he muttered as the Gryffindor scarf and chestnut, bushy hair caught his eye. She caught his eyes as he drew closer, and he stopped to dismount.
"Can I help you with something?" he asked. She nodded and stood up.
"I didn't get a chance to talk to you about what I had wanted to." She said, walking a little closer to him. He stood his ground, waiting for her.
"I was wondering what had started this change of heart. For the six years I've known you, you've hardly talked to me like a civil being and you've always called me mudblood. I've just been curious why you've changed so suddenly."
Draco sighed heavily, "Harry never told you what Dumbledore said to me last year before he died, did he?" Hermione shook her head, tears striking her eyes.
"He offered me and my family protection. My father is dead now; Voldemort killed him after I failed to kill Dumbledore. I feared for my mother and contacted Professor McGonagall, hoping she'd know a way for the Order of the Phoenix to help my mother and I. She took us in and hid my mother away. I've spent the majority of my time in this castle, thinking over the animosity I've had towards you and the other muggle-born students. Lucius, my father . . . well, he wasn't exactly the best father someone could ask for. Powerful, yes, but it got to his brain. I don't know if I've ever seen him act like a dad to me, or like a husband to my mother. And it makes me wonder if all this animosity I've held was because of him.
"I thought about it for some time, and no muggle-born has ever done anything wrong to me -- with the exception of you besting me in everything," he smiled slightly at Hermione. She smiled and Draco continued, "So, from that point on I decided to myself that I wouldn't use that word again. That's enough of an explanation, I hope." He said. She nodded.
"I'm really glad that you're both okay, and that the Order can help you guys," she said quietly. Draco nodded, fiddling with his broom. They stood there in silence, the wind whipping past them filling up the space.
"Well, we should be heading down to dinner, it's about 5 o'clock," Hermione said, looking down at her watch.
"s**t," Draco muttered, remembering the party at three. Hermione looked at him with a curious look, but she left it alone. They said their goodbyes and left in silence, Hermione to the Great Hall, Draco to the showers again. He had to admit it sort of felt good to tell someone, but as he thought about it he really hoped he could trust Hermione to not tell the rest of the Trio. He'd be damned if his story came out.
He rejoined the rest of his Slytherin friends soon after. Many of them asked why he wasn't at the party. "Sorry, I had someone I had to talk and catch up with." They looked at him rather confused, but left the Slytherin Prince to himself.
[Slytherins Prince] Community Member 
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