September gave way to October as the weather grew colder. Hogwarts’ grounds were covered with leaves that were primarily in shades brown, orange and yellow, creating a wonderful contrast to the pastures, which were still bright green. The leaves would stir and blow away occasionally in the cool autumn breeze and a cursing Mr. Filch would have to rake them all over again, especially when the breeze was a strong one.
The first Quidditch match of the school year was set to be between Slytherin and Hufflepuff on the last Saturday of the month. Upon Ron’s insistence, Hermione had followed him and Harry to watch the match. They were obviously rooting for Hufflepuff; no one wanted the Slytherin team to win, apart from the Slytherins themselves of course.
However, Hufflepuff were defeated by the Slytherins. Well, defeated was an understatement. They were thrashed, with the Slytherins beating them two hundred and fifty points to fifty. Hermione watched in disgust as Draco led his team to circle the stadium, doing a sort of ‘victory fly’ (as opposed to a victory dance).
“Honestly, it’s not like they won the Quidditch Cup,” Hermione huffed as she watched them fly by. “What a big bunch of snobs.”
“Show-offs,” Harry muttered after the Slytherins dismounted their brooms and waved at the crowd as they left the stadium.
“Don’t worry, Harry,” Ron said as they made their way to the Great Hall for dinner. “We’ll cream those bloody show-offs.”
“I'm sure the Gryffindor team will beat them,” Hermione assured. “I've seen you all practice, and I must say you make an excellent captain, Harry.”
Harry beamed. “Thank you, ‘Mione.”
After dinner, Hermione said goodnight to the two boys and headed up to her dorm. She had seen the Slytherins leave the Great Hall rather rowdily, so she expected that they were going to celebrate their victory in their own common room late into the night, which meant that Hermione would have the dorm all to herself. She was grateful for that. She could really do with some quiet time to read the books she had borrowed from library without having to end up quarrelling with Draco.
Settling herself on the sofa, Hermione grabbed a book entitled Werewolves: Myths, Legends and Facts from the pile that was lying on the coffee table and flipped it open. She read for what felt like hours, completely oblivious of her surroundings. Her concentration was only broken when Draco came tumbling into the common room at one in the morning.
Hermione’s head emerged from her book as she watched Draco hobble across the room while singing his own version of ‘Draco Is King’ on top of his lungs, barely able to stand. From the looks of it, he was insanely drunk. He stopped abruptly when he saw Hermione staring at him and flashed her a goofy smile that was completely uncharacteristic of a Malfoy.
She watched in amusement as he gave her a small bow. “Good evening, Granger,” he slurred before tripping over his own feet and falling onto the floor. “Oops, I seem to have fallen down,” his voice muffled because he was face was on the floor, “and I can’t seem to get back up.”
Hermione stifled her laughter as she got up to help Draco. She didn’t want to, but he looked really pathetic, lying on the cold floor, as drunk as anyone could possibly get. She bent down beside him and stared at him for a moment or two. His hair was very messy, falling all over his face, his robes untidy, his lips seemed swollen and there was a hickey on his neck.
Must have had a snogging marathon with some Slytherin girl, she thought, making a face and feeling slightly sick at the thought. She managed to turn him over and get him upright, but getting him to stand up was the hard part.
“You know what, Granger? We won the match today! We thrashed those good-for-nothing Hufflepuffs! You should have seen me, I was magnificent! I saw the snitch and I swooped down like that and then I soared like that and I turned right and left and then right again…” Draco babbled, his hands gesticulating wildly, making it harder for Hermione to help him up.
Amazing, Hermione thought as she got him to his knees, he praises himself even when he’s ridiculously drunk. Amazing.
“And then I dashed to the left and then I flew up and I””
“Malfoy! Will you quit moving around?! Stay still will you!” Hermione ordered. “I can’t help you if you keep moving around like a crazed monkey.”
Draco immediately stopped gesticulating. But he continued his commentary on the game. Hermione had managed to pull him up to his feet and led him to the sofa. She tried to steady him as they headed for the sofa, but he wobbled so badly that he tripped once more and fell onto the sofa, pulling Hermione along with him. The two of them landed in a heap on the sofa. That still did not stop Draco’s commentary on his heroic retrieval of the snitch.
“The snitch was right in front of me, I tell you. It was so close! I thought I was going to lose it and then I””
Hermione slapped his mouth with her hand to shut him up. “Now look at what you've done! If you don’t realize, you're on top of me!” she scolded from below Draco. “Honestly Malfoy, I didn’t know you were such a klutz when you’re drunk. You're behaving like an idiot! And you do realize that””
“You have really nice eyes, Granger,” Draco said softly and suddenly as he removed her hand from his mouth, stunning Hermione in mid-sentence.
“What?”
“Your eyes. They’re a very unusual shade of brown.”
Hermione felt herself blush as Draco’s gray eyes bore into her own. “Malfoy, you're dr””
He touched her lips gently with his fingers, sending shivers up her spine and yet again interrupting her. “And you've got incredibly soft lips,” he said barely in a whisper.
His face was inches from hers and he was bringing it closer. Hermione could smell the alcohol that laced his breath, but she did not seem to take much notice of it. All she seemed to be able to feel was his body against hers, his hot breath against her cheek and his finger tenderly caressing her bottom lip. She tried telling herself to push him away, but her hands seemed frozen at her sides and all she could do was stare at him. His gaze was so intense that she could not break it. Her heart pounded in her rib cage as he moved closer and closer and closer…and Hermione thought she knew exactly what was coming next.
“I…” he murmured, his lips now dangerously close to hers, “I think I'm going to throw up.”
So much for thinking she knew exactly what was coming next.
Half an hour later, after Draco had puked his guts out, Hermione carefully led him up to his room. She had been very quick to avoid his puke, practically flinging him off her to prevent him from spewing it all over her. Now as they walked up the stairs, with Draco’s arm sloppily around Hermione’s shoulders, he had started another version of ‘Draco Is King’. It took Hermione all her will power to stop herself from releasing him from her grasp and letting him knock his head on the hard floor. She could hardly believe that she was so close to kissing him earlier on. What was I thinking? Harry and Ron would have a fit if I ever told them. Obviously, she would never tell either of them. It was too embarrassing.
She opened his room door and sat him down on the bed. He looked lost for a moment or two, as though not knowing where he was. Finally, when he realized that he was in his own room, he gave her another goofy smile, which Hermione found highly comical.
“Malfoy, go to bed,” she instructed, not knowing what else to say.
“Yes, ma’am!” He did a sloppy salute and slumped back onto his bed, his shoes and robes still on.
Hermione sighed. “I meant after getting changed into your pajamas.”
But Draco was not listening. He was already off to dreamland, snoring lightly.
“Well, you can jolly well sleep with your shoes on then,” Hermione grumbled as she headed out of his room. As she headed for her room, she could not help giggle a bit. Who would have thought the mean, nasty, egotistical Draco Malfoy was such a helpless, harebrained goofball when he was drunk. She laughed out loud when she thought about how the Gryffindors would react when she told them about it the next morning. It would be revenge for the time Draco told the whole Slytherin house about her nightie. Ah, revenge sweet revenge.
Draco woke up the next morning with a huge headache. He was having a massive hangover. He groaned as he headed towards the bathroom and was grateful that it was a Sunday. There was no way he could bear going through a day of lessons with a headache like that.
Throwing on a dark brown turtleneck (to hide the hickey) with black slacks, he headed downstairs where he saw Hermione beside the fireplace, engrossed in a book. She looked up for a bit when she heard him come down. She giggled slightly upon seeing him and then went back to reading.
What’s her problem? he wondered as he left through the portrait hole for breakfast. Massaging his temples and groaning quietly, he entered the Great Hall. At once, the Gryffindor table burst into laughter. What the hell? he thought with a frown. What’s wrong with the Gryffidorks?
Draco watched in disbelief as Ron got up from the table and started staggering towards him, pretending to be drunk. Then, Ron started singing his own rendition of ‘Malfoy Is King':
And watch him turn into a loony bin.
That’s why we Gryffindors laugh and sing,
That Malfoy is indeed our King.’
When he was done, not only was the Gryffindor table was howling with laughter, but so was the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff table.
“I didn’t know you couldn't handle a little alcohol, Malfoy,” Ron spattered, laughing even harder.
Draco cursed under his breath and turned a shade of pink as the events from the previous night flooded his mind: the Slytherin party, he getting insanely drunk, making out with Pansy Parkinson…but most importantly, he getting insanely drunk. He remembered walking back to his dorm and singing ‘Draco Is King’. Then he remembered falling over and Hermione helping him up, but the rest of the night was a blur.
But how did the Gryffindors find about it? he thought, his face contorted in anger and embarrassment. The answer hit him almost instantly. Granger.
“Shut it, Weasley!” Draco spat angrily.
“Aw, is little Malfoy having an itsy-bitsy lil’ hangover?” Ron teased.
Draco was about to take his wand out and hex Ron good, but his head was hammering in his skull that he doubted he could come up with a decent curse. “Fifty points from Gryffindor, Weasel. And I'm going to assign you extra patrolling for the next two months,” Draco snarled before heading for his own house table.
“Bloody hell!” Ron swore. “Malfoy, I oughta shove””
“Another twenty points,” Draco shot.
Ron swore again, but this time he retreated back to his own table, where the other Gryffindors glared at Draco with looks of pure hatred.
Draco had a quick and quiet breakfast. He even ignored Pansy’s incessant flirting. After breakfast, he hurried back to the Head’s common room. His head was throbbing even more now when he thought about what Hermione had done. He shouted the password to a very stunned portrait and marched into the common room, where Hermione sat in the same chair, still reading.
“You little bitch!” he screamed.
Hermione’s head shot up from her book. “Me? What did I do?” she said with feigned innocence.
“You know exactly what you did, you filthy little Mudblood!” Draco hollered.
“What in the world is going on?” Godric Gryffindor asked from his frame.
“Looks like they’re fighting,” Salazar Slytherin replied with a pleased smile. “And I'm quite enjoying it.”
“No, I really don’t know what you're talking about, Malfoy,” Hermione said with the same feigned innocence and she went back to reading her book. She was not use to being this evil, but boy was she having fun, especially seeing the look on Draco’s face.
Draco snatched the book out of her hands and tossed it across the coffee table. He clutched the sides of the armchair so hard that his knuckles turned white. He bent down towards Hermione and stared straight at her face. “You told the whole Gryffindor about me being drunk last night,” he fumed.
Doesn’t look like he remembers anything else about last night. Definitely not the near kiss, Hermione guessed. “Oh, that,” she said with a calm smile. “Yes, I did. So?”
He shoved a finger towards Hermione’s face. “You don’t want to mess with me, Granger,” he growled.
Hermione whacked his hand away. Somehow, she gathered the courage to grab hold of the scruff of Draco’s sweatshirt and pulled him closer to her. “That was payback for the time you made fun of my nightie,” she said, her voice gravely low. “And you don’t want to mess with me, Malfoy. I know more spells than you’ll probably learn in a lifetime,” she added with a hint of pride.
Pushing him back with all her might, Hermione got up from the armchair and stalked out of the portrait hole.
"Ooo, the Mudblood was good," Salazar Slytherin commented.
Draco watch in disdain as she walked away. However, he could not help but be ever so slightly in wonder of her. For a second there, she sounded so much like a Slytherin and, to Draco, that was almost a real turn on. Almost.
A tap on the window distracted Draco out of his thoughts. He saw his family’s owl on the other side of the window and groaned. He was certain that it was a letter from his father and he was not sure if he could deal with that right now.
Nevertheless, he trudged over to the window and let the owl in. He took the letter from it, after which it ruffled its wings and flew away. Ripping it open, he saw his father’s familiar writing on the parchment:
Draco,
As we agreed, I have purchased a gemstone wizard’s chessboard for you. I trust that it was delivered to you a couple of weeks ago. Now, I hope you have been keeping your end of the deal. Have you made any progress with that Mudblood? In case you have not, I have enclosed a list of love spells and charms that can help you along the way. In fact, your mother was suggesting that I send you a book filled with them.
But for now, this list will have to suffice. Once I find a good love spells and charms book, I will send it over immediately. Remember Draco, I want this girl to be my daughter-in-law at any cost. I'm counting on you. Write to let me know how are things between you two.
From,
Your father
Draco pulled out a second parchment from the back of the first one and saw dozens of love spells and charms. The list was long and went on for three whole parchments.
Sighing, Draco took the pieces of parchment and chucked it into the fireplace, where the fire licked blissfully at the sides of the parchments before consuming them whole. After the entire incident with Hermione, the last thing he needed was love spells.