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Nov. 13th, 2011

When a Tornado Meets a Volcano

Chapter 6: High Tide, Low Tide

Draco and Blaise made their way swiftly to the dungeons. Draco cast all thoughts of Hermione out of his mind and focused on the task at hand; he knew that when Snape needed to see him suddenly like this, it meant that it had something to do with his father – and that always meant trouble.

As they made their way into the dungeons, Blaise stopped and turned to Draco, grabbing the boy by his shoulders and preventing him from walking any further.

“No matter what goes down here Drake,” Blaise said, his eyes holding none of their usually gaiety. “No matter what, I know that you will make the right choice.” It was a pep talk that Draco had received many times before on occasions such as these, and every single time, he knew that Blaise meant it. Draco nodded his head and the pair continued to make their way to Snape’s office.

They entered the office to find Snape sitting at the desk, pouring over various texts. He looked up when his students came in and magicked the books and papers away. He folded his hands regally on the now cleared desktop and gave them his usual scrutinizing look.

“I see you understand the value of being timely,” he said, addressing Draco more so than Blaise. “I perceive that you understand the nature of this sudden summoning?” It was – like many things concerning his father – an unspoken rule that his father always wanted something when summoning his son and it was a just as well known yet unspoken fact that the things wanted were never of a good nature.

“I understand, sir,” Draco said, nodding to accentuate his claims. He turned towards the small fireplace in the corner, surprised that the fire was not roaring, and his father’s stern face was not floating in the flames. He was just going to inquire about it when the very person he just thinking about walked in from a door hidden by some books to the right of the desk. It took all of Draco’s self-constraint not to blanch at the sight of his father, standing there.

Lucius Malfoy was a very intimidating man. He stood at almost 6 feet 5 inches (a/n: for those who use centimeters, that’s 195.58 cm), and his hair appeared almost white and hung down his back. He peered around the room with so cold a glare that one could feel the temperature in the room drop a few degrees. His robes were all black, and before he moved forward to stand before his son, he looked very much like a floating head.

“Father,” Draco said, bowing slightly in respect to the man who terrified him beyond reason. He dared not look Lucius in the eye in fear that he would turn into a pillar of ice, so he kept his gaze floor ward.

“The Dark Lord wishes for you to begin your first days as a servant under his direct command,” Lucius said, giving no formal introduction. It was well know that Lucius was an unfeeling man, even towards his family, and especially towards his only son.

“You are to attend your first Death Eater revel, in three weeks time. I will send word of my arrival by owl a day in advance. All of the incidentals will be taken care of,” Lucius said, turning away from him and walking back towards the door. “Remember what we talked about this past summer.”

With that, and no more, he swept back through the door and out of sight before Draco could even look up. The room was silent with Lucius words still in the air like the lingering smell of alcohol after a party. Snape looked to Blaise and Draco as if to say, “Get out of my office you sniveling brats,” and the two left silently, making their way to the Slytherin common room to process the information.

It wasn’t until they were halfway there that Draco stopped in the middle of the hallway, his face losing all color and his mind running his father’s words over and over again.

Remember what we talked about this summer.

Just the mere memory of the conversation made Draco feel sick. It was a direct blow to the already crumbling steel wall that was his sanity. As he resumed walking, Draco tried to push the memory from his mind, but it kept coming back to haunt him.

"Draco!" his father's voice boomed through the entire Manor, burning with fury. "What is the one thing I have always taught you? Do you indeed have any shred of intelligence in you to remember what I've always said?"

Draco wouldn't let him see that he affected him in the slightest. "Father," he began in what he hoped sounded like a calm, cold voice. "I remember what you've taught me, but, and if I'm not mistaken we've been through this, I don't agree with it." He was pleased to see that his appearance of indifference at freely disobeying his father’s rules did nothing but enrage him further. 

“I’ll do whatever I like.”

"How dare you defy me!?" Lucius roared, towering above an unflinching Draco. He shoved the boy roughly in the chest with his walking stick.

"I was doing what I was told." Draco replied, staring at his father coldly. He had never felt anything for this man, except for extreme hatred. Their almost identical steel gray eyes bored into each other, the tension between them almost becoming a physical entity.

"Your mother suffered greatly for her infidelity. Is that what you want; for her to be forever in pain, because of you?" Lucius said coolly. He pushed the walking stick further in to his son's chest, this time eliciting a cry of distress.

"And you call yourself a Malfoy," he spat, voice dripping with menace. "If you continue to act like an idiot, I swear, I'll do something you'll regret."

"Like what," Draco taunted. "Disown me?"

His father's eyes narrowed dangerously, becoming no more than slits, and making him appear even more like a treacherous snake. "No," he whispered, glaring as a sadistic smile appeared. "But I'm sure you'd like that, wouldn't you? No," he repeated. "I don't see what else I can do to make you see my point than to threaten someone close to you."

Hermione had not seen Draco for the rest of the day. She had looked for him in all the other classes they had together, and she even went so far as to ask one of the other prefects if they had seen him around.

Not that she was worried or anything.

She was sitting between Ginny and another 5th year Gryffindor named Tivally when Draco finally made an appearance. He was walking with Blaise, his head turned towards his friend such that she couldn’t see his face. When he sat down, he sat with his back to her, unusual because he’d always sat in one place on one side of the table always facing the Gryffindor table (not that she noticed or anything). She was starting to grow agitated, and her focus shifted to figuring out his issue. She tuned out the conversation around her and she was casting glances at the Slytherin table.

“Hermione! Hermione! Are you listening to me?” Ginny’s voice snapped her out of her reverie and she turned to her friend, furrowing her eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Hermione asked, adopting a fake smile. Ginny saw right through her façade and narrowed her eyes.

“Why are you so distracted?” Ginny asked, still glaring and crossing her arms suspiciously.

“Nothing, I am just a little tired is all,” Hermione said, turning away from her friend to look down at her food. While the latter part was true (she hadn’t had a good, uninterrupted sleep in two days), she was indeed preoccupied with thoughts of Draco.

Hermione Granger!” Ginny exclaimed in her best Mrs. Weasley voice, making Hermione cringe. “I know you’re-” but before she could finish her admonition, a commotion drew the attention of the whole Great Hall to the Slytherin Table. It appeared that two people, were arguing, their voices so loud that it surpassed the noise of general chatter.

“I don’t care what you think!” The voice was unmistakable – it was Draco, who was now standing. He seemed to be trying to suppress the anger he showed on his face, but it needed somewhere to exit and it chose his voice as an outlet.

“But Draco!” Hermione cringed at the high pitched, anything but dulcet tones of Pansy Parkinson. “You know what will happen! Think of your future!” Pansy stepped closer to him, trying to place a hand on his arm, but he jerked away violently.

“I already told you that I DON’T CARE!” Draco said with finality, storming from the great hall, his face flushed with anger and with silence following in his wake. Hermione was shocked at the outburst; no one had ever seen such a display of emotion from him as far as she knew and whispers followed his departure, filling the Great Hall with – no doubt – false rumors of the roots of the argument. Pansy merely stood there for a moment before breaking into tears and collapsing back upon the bench, to be consoled by her housemates.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the obviously overdramatic display of tears. Pansy was the one of the few people in her life that actually made her want to kill something. But her focus had now been completely adverted from Ginny and to what had just gone on, namely, the reason why Draco had stormed out of the Great Hall looking very upset. Taking advantage of the fact that everyone at the table, including Ginny was now gossiping about the event, Hermione took a good long look at the Slytherin table to find Blaise Zabini staring at her intently. When she caught his eye, he made a slight motion with his head towards the door, indicating that she should leave the Great Hall. She looked around to see if it was possibly someone else the silent exchange was meant for, but she was its intended target. She returned the nod (albeit with a bit of hesitation) and gathered her things, standing and making her way out of the Great Hall. When she was safely in the halls leading to the dorms, she began to pace, her mind racing with the reasons Blaise could have possibly called her out like that.

“Hermione,” his voice lacked its usual playful tone and his eyes held the same seriousness. “You need to go and talk to him.” Hermione was stunned; she had to what?

“Excuse me?” she said, voicing her surprise. “And what makes you think I would accomplish something? Have you been gone for the past five years or did you just forget that we absolutely hate each other?” She crossed her arms and gave Blaise a look of complete incredulousness.

“Please, Hermione,” Blaise pleaded, something very unlike any Slytherin, including himself. “Please just go and make sure he hasn’t tossed himself out of a window.” Hermione was feeling more and more obliged to obey as she was subjected to the pleading gaze of the boy standing before her.

“Okay! Okay, fine!” she relented after a minute more of his stare. “What exactly is going on Blaise?” One thing unknown to most people is that there was sort of fragile understanding of the other passing between the Gryffindor and the Slytherin. Blaise and Hermione, while never actually developing a friendship were comfortable enough with each other to have normal interactions.

“Thank you,” Blaise said, letting out a sigh of relief, but avoiding her question. He walked back to the doors of the Great Hall and before reentering, he turned back to Hermione briefly. “Really, Hermione. Thank you.”

Hermione stood there for a moment before heading up the stairs and towards the Tower. As she walked, she thought about what she was doing. The day before yesterday, she had been screaming in her room about just how much she hated him, even going so far as to damage her hands (which she had finally gone to Madame Pomfrey to get fixed). Now, here she was, convinced by his best friend, going to go “make sure he hadn’t tossed himself out of a window.” And to add more to her confusion, in these past few days, he had not only helped her (or at least tried), he had also professed some level of interest in getting to know her. To actually know her.

Hoping to sort through one thing at a time, she focused on the task at hand. She had reached the portrait, and she paused before it, rethinking her decision one last time before giving the password and stepping inside of the common room.

Draco held the piece of parchment in his hands, and every once in a while, he would look back at it; and every single time he did so, he flung it away from him, only to grab it before it hit the ground and hold it before starting all over again.

He was sitting on his bed, facing the large bay window that overlooked the grassy expanse that bordered the lake, where many a Hogwarts student had played in the snow and ice-skated on the frozen over body of water. He was not looking out of the window, but, in between looking at the parchment, he stared at the intricacy of the iron worked frames holding the individual window panes together. They reminded him of the very old iron worked ring his mother sometimes wore. Of her many pieces of jewelry, it was his favorite one. He couldn’t remember any particular reason why, only that the ring meant that his mother was happy, which made him happy. He glanced down at the parchment once more.


I sincerely hope that you have been diligent in keeping watch over Potter. However, I am sensing that you are becoming… unruly again. I will not remind you again, boy. Disobey me, and the results will not be pleasant.


This was the last time that Draco looked at the letter before crumpling it into a ball and throwing it full force across the room. He placed his head in his hands and sighed heavily willing the tears to stay in their place. His mind was filled with questions, some had answers, some didn’t; and his heart was filled with anger, indignation, and fear. He didn’t want to do this. The part of him that feared his father also feared himself. What was he going to do when the time came to really make that decision known? Would he be able to resist as he had planned to do? Would he be accepted into all that he had condemned, especially at Hogwarts, where he would have nothing if he wasn’t accepted?

He felt the emotion building up in his chest and he let out a small sob. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know if he should do anything. He didn’t even –

There was a knock at his door. He looked up at the door and found himself shouting for them to go away, he was busy. There was another knock, and again he shouted for them to leave. He had turned away from the door again when he heard the telltale click of the lock coming undone and a person coming inside. He didn’t bother to turn around, and just shouted for them to get out or he would hex them into oblivion.

“I doubt you could pull that off,” said Hermione. “If it was possible, I would have done it already.” Draco looked up in complete and utter surprise at the brown-haired Gryffindor standing near the foot of his bed. She had a smirk that was tentative, yet sincere. But he didn’t want to see her; he didn’t want her to see him.

“Go away, Granger,” Draco said, though his voice came out in more of a pitiful whisper. She walked over to his side of the bed and sat down, awkwardly folding her hands on her lap. She spotted the paper on the ground, and knowing that its contents would be a far cry from desirable, she suppressed the urge to pick it up and read it.
They sat in silence for a few minutes and from time to time, she would look over at him, trying to figure the best time, if any, to say something to him.

“Draco,” she said finally, not looking at him. “It’ll be okay.” She mentally slapped herself, knowing full well that it meant nothing because it may not be true. Draco merely shook his head, and the tears were threatening, now more than ever, to spill down his face.

“You just have to make your own decisions,” she said, talking to both him and herself. Draco looked at her for the first time since she had entered the room.

“Make my own decisions? My own decisions?” his voice was cracked with the strain of holding back his tears and he turned away from her just as they started to break free. “I can’t.

Hermione turned to him, forcing him to look at her. “What happened to the Draco Malfoy that decided he would be nice for once and help someone when they needed it? Where is the Draco Malfoy that decided he wouldn’t listen to Pansy back there? Huh? Where is the Draco Malfoy that I know?” She was staring him down, and he was staring back, his eyes full of both fear and wonder.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Granger,” he said, not breaking his gaze. “It’s not that easy.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she asked, her voice gaining some softness to it. “I know Draco, I know it’s not easy. But you have to do it.”

He didn’t say anything but looked at her. Really looked at her. He knew he promised himself; he knew that he had reputation to uphold, an image to maintain. And here she was, not unlike him: her goody-two-shoes, know-it-all self who was actually helping him. He had been completely uncivil to her for the past five years, and now… what was this exactly? He didn’t know whether he should be happy, sad, or what. And then, for the first time in a long time, he made a decision.

Leaning closer to Hermione, he brought his hand up to her face, and closed the distance.

Draco Malfoy kissed Hermione Granger.

When a Tornado Meets a Volcano

Chapter 5: Cloudy With a Chance of Magic

"Now class, open your texts to page 475 and begin deciphering the first fourteen lines. It will not be finished by the end of the class, therefore you will be expected to finish it along with the two pages you already have for homework."
Hermione glanced at the sleeping figure to her right. Shaking her head she bent to pull a fresh pot of ink from her bag. When she returned to proper sitting position, she nearly screamed in annoyance – Draco Malfoy, the sleeping figure next to her had sprawled out onto her notes and books, scattering some of them to the ground. Instead of screaming though, she took a moment to compose herself.

And then she flicked his nose with her forefinger.

"OW!" Draco said sitting straight up and holding his face in pain. Several students turned to look at him, and snickered, much to his annoyance. He rounded on Hermione.

"What did you go and do that for?" he said in an angry, but hushed tone. "That hurt!" She merely cocked an eyebrow at him and gestured to her now wrinkled parchments and generally disheveled space.

"I think the evidence speaks for itself." She began to gather up the scattered materials and restack them neatly on her left hand side. "I don't suppose you recall anything that Professor Babbling was just talking about?"

"And I suppose you do," he said, annoyed. He turned to face the front of the class, pouting and occasionally rubbing his sore nose, and Hermione noted that he hadn't even bothered to remove any of his books or parchments from his bag. Rolling her eyes, she began the assignment.

After a few minutes hunched over her work, she put her quill down. Feeling something – a very small something, but a something nonetheless – she turned towards Draco, only to find that he was leaning on his hand staring at her. She gave a small squeak of surprise and felt her cheeks flush.

"What is the matter with you this time, Malfoy?" she asked, giving a huff and turning away to regain her composure.

"Nothing, I'm just waiting," he said, his voice and face completely unreadable. She didn't look his way this time, but rolled her eyes.

"And just what are waiting for, Dear Mr. Malfoy?" she asked though with fake sincerity. She picked up the quill again and continued with her work.

"For you to tell me everything about yourself, of course."

She dropped the quill on the parchment and turned to face him, her face flushed this time with anger. What was he playing at exactly? He cheers her up once (if you could even call it that) and now he expects to be regaled with the tales of Hermione Granger?

"You are delusional if you think that for once second I will tell you anything," she said glaring at him. Though she didn't want to admit it, there was a small part that wanted to tell him everything; however, she knew that it would end badly, and pushed the thought away promptly.

"No, I am in quite a right state of mind," Draco replied, stretching upward off of his hand. He watched as her face cycled between confusion and anger. Before she could retort, the shuffle of feet and materials broke her out of her trance and she snatched up her things, storming from the room in frustration.

Draco chuckled to himself; she certainly did get worked up pretty easily. It wasn't the reaction he had been hoping for – he understood that no matter how much he provoked her, she would not outwardly misbehave in a classroom.

Harry Potter had been extremely wary of Draco Malfoy since the day they had met in Diagon Alley. Recently, though, Harry had been observing him with the intent of finding out anything he could about the Dark Lord. It seemed like a simple task to just simple watch him from afar, however, it turned into something much more complicated when he noticed that twice did he follow Hermione out of the Great Hall, and one of those times, he had even seen them conversing civilly.

Of course, in all of this he suspected Hermione of nothing. Malfoy was another story entirely. He had to be up to something to all of a sudden take an interest in Hermione. He loved his best friend dearly, but he had to admit that most of the guys at Hogwarts were intimidated by her intelligence, himself included.

It was that day in Ancient Runes when he finally realized that he had to find out what was going on with Malfoy. He watched as he and Hermione talked quietly before Hermione left in a huff. Malfoy was chuckling to himself, no doubt satisfied at a job well done. As Malfoy stood to stretch, Harry made his way over to where he had been sitting.

Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. He turned to see Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived-to-drive-him-insane standing next to him glaring. Draco was caught off guard momentarily, but regained his composure before Harry could register it.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco said, yawning and giving Harry a bored look. He grabbed his bag from the floor and without waiting for a reply brushed past him, only to have his sleeve catch on something. He turned back to find Harry gripping his robes with an iron fist.

"Is there something wrong with you, Potter? Let go," Draco protested, his bored stare turning to a glare. "I don't have –"

"What are you up to Malfoy?" Harry said his voice cold as ice and his eyes glowering. Draco cocked an eyebrow at him while still tugging at his robes.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, so let me go or I will hex you into oblivion!" Draco growled, putting his other hand on the pocket where his wand was held. Harry hesitated a moment before finally letting go, allowing Draco to give him one last stare before moving quickly away, lest he change his mind.

"Stay away from her Malfoy!" Draco faltered in his step as he heard Harry shout after him. He turned back to see a satisfied grin on the boy's face. "Or you will not like the consequences." Draco scowled and turned abruptly on his heel, his cloak swishing behind him as he made his way to his next class.

Back in the classroom, Harry Potter was grinning like a Cheshire cat. His suspicions had been proved and he couldn't wait to see what Malfoy would do next.

Draco had gotten to class just before Professor Flitwick appeared on his usual stack of books, and noticed that Hermione had chosen a seat between two students so that she (or so he assumed) wouldn’t have to sit next to him again.

So he dropped in to the only empty seat there was available, and sighed heavily. He was sitting next to a Ravenclaw girl on his right with pin straight black hair, and posture that would make a wall look bent. He rolled his eyes to himself; leave it up to the know-it-all Ravenclaws to make it into Advanced Charms. Hermione was sitting in the same row, but seven students away. Since the seating was in a horseshoe shape, he could see most of her, but decided against full frontal staring.

Not that he would ever be caught doing that.

He tried focusing on the lecture Flitwick was giving. Something about birds and swishing and flicking and the like. He closed his eyes and rested his head on his folded hands, intent on going straight to sleep when something caught the corner of his eye. Slowly but surely, words were etching themselves into the wood of the tabletop. He looked to the girl at his right to see that she hadn’t noticed the words, and was scribbling furiously in her journal.

Don’t fall asleep this time.

Draco’s eyes narrowed and he looked down the row of students towards Hermione. She had a completely unreadable look on her face, but he knew it was her who’d sent the message; he knew of no one else smart enough to figure out the tricky, but handy little charm. He was just about to look away when he saw her head tilt in his direction, and her eyes glance at him quickly before turning back. He smirked and tapped his wand against the table lightly, enabling him to write back.

It’ll give me something to do while I wait.

Draco could practically feel the air ripple with her anger when he knew she’d gotten the message. He leaned his head on his arms again and closed his eyes just as he saw her reply appear on the table.

You are an incorrigible git, do you know that?

Five minutes later, Draco was forced back to attention by the sounds of birds shrieking in his ears. He opened his eyes and slowly lifted his head to find that he was surrounded by small green and orange birds, all of which seemed to have taken to flying dangerously close to his face before sweeping off in another direction.

“Well done Miss. Granger!” Flitwick cried in delight, clapping his hands, and scaring some students as the pile of books he was standing on wobbled precariously. Draco shot a glare at Hermione; so this was her doing was it?

Immobulus,” he whispered, and the birds stopped mid-flap and mid-tweet, and the classroom was silent, heads turning back and forth between Draco and Hermione, eager to see who would do what next.

However, like in the class before, they had a rather untimely interruption. The doors to the Charms classroom swung open and Blaise Zabini walked in, looking flustered and slightly concerned. His eyes fell on Draco’s and some mutual understanding passed between the two that didn’t escape the gaze of Hermione.

“Why Mr. Zabini, how pleasant it is for you to join us!” Professor Flitwick said, stepping onto a more steady stack of books. “Do you have a message to deliver?”

Blaise nodded seriously, breaking his silent conversation with Draco. “Yes, Professor. Professor Snape needs to see Draco right away.” Hermione turned her head sharply in Draco’s direction, looking for any signs of change in his expression. There was none, but Draco stood and gathered his things, making no noise, and ignoring the bird suspended in air above him. As he was walking out of the classroom, he looked back once at Hermione. She couldn’t find one trace of the previous moments fierce challenge.

Jan. 11th, 2011

When a Tornado Meets a Volcano

Chapter 4: Storm Warning

Hermione was at a loss for words. Her body felt heavy and pained all over. She had acted in such a rage back there that she didn't even think of a place to go when she left. So she headed for the library. Her safe haven, her secret garden; it was always there when she needed it, and it was the one place she could escape to find herself again.

She paused before the oak doors, running a finger down an intricately carved line of flowers. Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she walked inside, heading straight for the most secluded spot in the library.

It was a small room, equipped with a desk, a couch and fireplace. It was perfect for her, a place more private than even her own bedroom, she felt. She ran her hand over the desks top, making a trail through the thin layer of dust that had formed in her absence. She laid her bag at the side of the desk and walked over to the couch. Why hadn't she come here for her nap before? She would have gotten the rest she wanted and also have saved herself bruises.

She sat down slowly and draped her arms around the back of the couch. A slight plume of dust was rocketed into the air as she did so, but she didn't care. The weight of yesterday and today closed in on her and she let her breath out in a slow, strained manner. The tears had stopped, and she leaned her head back, listening to the sounds of the near silence of the room. There was only her breathing, and the slight gurgle of voices from beneath the window of the room. She concentrated on her breathing, growing calmer by the minute. Before long, she was in a light sleep, drifting in and out of the present.

Draco moved as silently as he could through the hallways. As he was headed towards the abandoned bathroom his mind was flooded with thoughts of the agenda of the meeting. Of course, as far as he knew, none of the fellow students had become Death Eaters, so it wasn’t going to be serious.

That was the rub though. When would it get serious? When we he become the loyal servant of the man his family was known to follow? Did he want that for himself? Did he want to follow in his father’s footsteps? He had given it much thought and this night was no different than the rest.

He jammed his hands into his cloak pockets and scowled. What we he do if he didn’t? He would be killed, right? And his mother, his poor mother. He knew that she was no willing participant in his father’s activities, and he knew that she had already sacrificed much to get him this far without the ceremony. What would she think if he became the thing she secretly loathed? It was a decision for another day, but he couldn’t help be plagued by its presence constantly.

When he reached the door, he paused. He could hear the voices of other Slytherins inside and shook his head. He was torn on the inside and they knew nothing. Sighing off the thought, he pushed open the door and entered.

“Draco!” Pansy was by his side in an instant. He held back a disgusted look and brushed her off, soliciting a slight glare.

“Hi Pansy,” he said, and walked past her to the sinks where he leaned against one and began to pick at his nails, ignoring the other students crammed into the space. “Why haven't we started yet?” 

“You weren't here. Besides, Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle are on their way, and Blaise said he wasn’t coming,” she said following him and sat next to him. They were sitting a rather comfortable silence when she turned to him and gave him a very innocent – but disconcerting – look.

“What were you doing with Granger earlier?” she asked, he voice even more sickly sweet than usual. He tensed, but spoke in a nonchalant manner.

“She was making a racket with all of her crying so I told her to shut up,” he said giving Pansy an unreadable stare. “You would too if you had to listen to her blubbering.” Pansy stared at him for a moment before turning away, satisfied that he wasn’t hiding anything. He on the other hand, didn’t let his guard down for the rest of the meeting. Every once and a while, he could feel Pansy’s eyes on him, watching for Merlin knows what. He had a feeling that she suspected him for doing more with the Hermione than he had told her, and bugged him. He shouldn’t feel as if he needed to hide it; what was it doing besides making him look like a nice person?

By the time the meeting was over, Draco was finding it hard to keep his eyes open. They had talked of nothing but their impending induction into the ranks of Death Eaters and ways in which their parents had began to speak to the Dark Lord of their children’s loyalty. It was all dull for him; he had been recommended to the Dark Lord since he could remember, and it had remained that way until the present moment.

As he was exiting the meeting place, he ignored the suspicious, but doting Pansy and walked down the hall, contemplating the rest of the night. Despite abusing his powers as a prefect to take points from other houses, he was scheduled for patrol that night, and had taken a short leave of it for the meeting. He did need to finish it, but it occurred to him that his partner in patrol that night had never shown. Who was it again? He sighed to himself as it dawned on him – Granger. He rolled his eyes; of course it would be her. They were after all, seeing each other a bit more frequently now that they were within the constraints of their leadership positions.

He hadn’t the slightest idea of where she could be. Last time he’d seen her, she had been storming out of the Great Hall for the second time that day, and heading in the direction of the… the library, of course. He chuckled at the absurdity of the situation: the Slytherin Prince Draco Malfoy returning from a rendez-vous with fellow conspirators, while the Gryffindor Golden Princess Hermione Granger wept pitifully in the library as a result of a spat between herself and a friend.

He headed in the direction of the library; he hadn’t seen her since the scene in the Great hall, so he had to assume she’d still be there. He would fetch her and make her feel guilty that she had abandoned the duties of her most coveted position. He found it interesting that he was interested in her at all. He attributed it to the fact that, in their spat the previous night, she was gutsy enough to insult him and his father all in one breath, as well as show her extreme vulnerability to him without giving it a second thought. He was intrigued by this side of her; he felt it was one he rarely got to see, and assumed that the same rule applied to the rest of the world, including her best friends. As he drew closer to the library, he promised himself that he would not get to interested, after all, this was his enemy, and though he knew the phrase, he had no interest in getting any closer to the girl. He merely wanted to be entertained by her .

“You used to be my best friend once. I trusted you more than anyone. But not anymore.” He said looking down at her bloodied body. Her chest was rising and falling quickly; she couldn’t breathe properly and there was a thin trickle of blood coming from the spot where she had hit her head.

“Please! You can’t be doing this. This isn’t you!” she said sobbing and looking at him.

“No Hermione! This isn’t you! You are the one that is different; you are the one who betrayed me! You, more than anyone. It is because of you that I’ve changed,” he shouted, starting to get angry. He brought the wand closer to her face, and she flinched. She knew he would at this point, but she hoped with everything that she had in her that he would change his mind at the last minute.

"No, please! You have to understand-"


Hermione awoke in a cold sweat, her heart beating way faster than normal and her hands clutched defensively around her wand. She looked around to find that she was all alone, and her dream was just that -- a dream. She closed her eyes briefly in relief, and stretched out her legs from the curled up position she had gotten into mid-sleep.

“What was that all about?” she wondered out loud, replacing her wand to her pocket and running her fingers through her hair. She stood up and walked to the window; she could tell it had been a few hours since she’d fallen asleep. This was the second time in a row she had woken up in the middle of the night not in her room. She hoped that it wouldn’t become a habit.

The sky held only a few stars, but the moon shone brightly, and she could see the open grass beneath her. She hadn’t quite realized how beautiful Hogwarts grounds looked in the moonlight, despite all of the times she had snuck out with Harry and Ron. She stood at the window for a moment before deciding she should head back to the tower. As she made her way to the door, she picked up her bag and took a deep breath. However, when she twisted the knob, she found that the door only budged an inch. Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, she tried again, putting a little more force behind her push.

“What in Merlin’s name?” she said to herself as she peeked through the small crack between the door and the frame. She could see someone slumped against the door – the cause of her not being able to leave.

“Wake up!” She whispered in an attempt to wake the person. “Hey, I need to leave, and you need to wake up!”

“Oh, shut up will you?” the lump said in a disgruntled voice. Hermione jumped back from the door, startled. “I’m moving; don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“Malfoy?” Hermione whispered, now thoroughly confused. “What are you even doing here?”

“Well, I was sleeping,” he replied, standing to stretch. He hadn’t really been sleeping. In fact, he hadn’t even known the room was there until he heard her moving around behind what he assumed to be a wall. He slumped against the door as soon as he heard her footsteps coming near. In keeping with his façade, he opened up the door, and walked inside twisting at the waist and giving a big yawn. “But someone decided to wake me up.” Hermione simply stood there, shocked.

“I’m sorry?” she said, for lack of a better explanation for this strange occurrence. Twice in one day, she was having an actual conversation with Draco Malfoy without wanting to rip his face to shreds.

“And you, Granger, missed your turn for patrol, which is why I am here,” Draco replied, ignoring her apology. Hermione cursed under her breath, but he caught it and smirked.

“And, you are using dirty language. I think someone is slipping from their goody-two-shoes image.” He taunted, waggling his finger at her. He was toying with her on purpose: his goal was to provoke her again, make the hidden part of her appear to him once more.

“Well then, Malfoy,” Hermione said, regaining her composure and giving him her usual know-it-all look. “I guess you don’t know me too well then, now do you?” For a moment, it looked as if she wanted him to know, but the moment had passed before either had registered it.

Eyeing him wearily she huffed in annoyance, and turned for the door.

“If that’s all, then-”

“Tell me,” She turned back to give him a look, raising her right eyebrow and giving him an amused smile.

“Tell you what Malfoy? I don’t think now is the appropriate time to be discussing my private life, especially since I know you really don’t care.” She turned again and began walking before she felt a hand on her arm.

“Seriously, Malfoy. What is-” she turned to find him giving her a look that blazed with an intensity she was all too familiar with. It scared her, yet it was thrilling and sent a shiver down her spine.

“I want to know.” At that moment, all of his focus was directed at her. Despite his earlier proclamation to himself, he was thoroughly intrigued by the girl in front of him. He couldn’t place the feeling, but at that moment, he wanted to know what made Hermione Granger tick – what was it that she hid from everyone, even her best friends.

“Oh don’t be silly, Malfoy,” she said scoffing and brushing his hand away. “It’s late and you and I both know that Snape will not tolerate students dozing off in his class.” On the surface, she looked as if she thought he was joking, but her mind was racing, scrambling for an answer to the question that now plagued her – why was Malfoy – Draco Malfoy – so interested in her. She walked away quickly, heading towards the front of the library. Malfoy followed soon after, a pensive look on his face and a mind full of as of yet unanswered questions.

Oct. 30th, 2010

When a Tornado Meets a Volcano

Chapter 3: Natural Disasters

It surprised him greatly. There she was, looking so helpless as she cried into her arms. He was so shocked for the moment; all he could do is stand there lamely. Suddenly, he was moving, and was now crouched down beside her, rubbing small circles on her back. It felt as if he was possessed as a giant wave of pity crashed down on him; why was he doing this?

Hermione looked up to find him beside her, his eyes full of a sympathy she did not expect to see. She let a small little wail; it was partially his fault why she was like this. She curled herself tighter, shrinking away from his touch. It was more in disbelief than in repulsion.

“Granger,” he said, though his voice didn’t hold its usual coldness. “Get a hold of yourself; class is about to start.” He’d stopped rubbing her back, staring at his hand (which seemed to- like the rest of his body- act of its own accord) for a moment. She let out a sniffle of protest, making him furrow his brow.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he mumbled, sighing. He looked down at her, another wave of pity flowing through him. He tried to fight back the feeling; just yesterday he was proclaiming how much he hated her and now here he was trying to (even if it was pathetically) to get her to return to her normal self.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sounds of approaching footsteps and voices. Looking at his watch, he cursed: breakfast was over and everyone would be headed for their first classes. With one last sight, he crouched down next to Hermione’s ear and began to talk.

“Hermione Granger,” he whispered furiously. “If you don’t get up off of the floor right now, everyone here for classes will come around that corner and laugh at you for looking so pitiful. Even Snape. Do you really want that? Come on. Up and at ‘em.” He tugged at her arms, a wave of relief washing over him when she didn’t protest.

Hermione gave him a strange look, surprised that he had helped her. Nonetheless, she picked up her bag and quickly wiped the tears from her face, just as the crowd of students rounded the hallway. Their chatter quickly filled the hall, and before Draco could speak another word, he felt a tap on the shoulder and turned, allowing her time to escape into the classroom.

Draco turned, to find Pansy Parkinson standing there, grinning at him. He sighed – he’d been doing that a lot lately – and rolled his eyes heavenward.

“What do you want Pansy?” he asked, not trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. She didn’t pick up on it (to his chagrin), and smiled at him flirtatiously.

“I just wanted to let you know that we are meeting in the abandoned bathroom tonight,” she said, her normally high pitched voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned in towards him.

Draco stiffened. In all of the things going on in his mind, the meeting must have gotten lost. How could he forget? Oh, right; he had been thinking about a certain frustrating Gryffindor. He brought his attention back to Pansy and gave her a curt nod, turning abruptly on his heel and walking swiftly into the classroom.

Meanwhile, Hermione was at a loss of what to do. She had walked into the class only to find the majority of seats already filled. She saw that Harry had purposely sat with someone else, leaving her the option to sit next to Ron and talk and make-up, but she was not ready for that just yet. His comments, combined with the argument she’d had with Draco the night before, and her lack of peaceful sleep lately had combined to form a very irritable Hermione; one that wasn’t about to give up a grudge so easily.

She walked past him with her head turned away from him towards one of two empty seats in the front of the classroom. No one had taken these seats and she couldn’t blame them. Not even she, Goody-Granger, liked to sit in the front of Snape’s class. She pulled out her books and laid them neatly on the closest corner of the table, ignoring the feeling she got when she knew both Ron and Harry were looking at her. Her hands still hurt, and she still hadn’t put a glamour on, causing some people to stare at her for a moment before she glared at they turned away. This day was not turning out to be one of her best.

And what was that with Draco just now? Had she really seen sympathy from the very same boy who, in the night before, had made her feel so angry? She shook her head to herself; it was odd how he had just been there, patting her back in an attempt to get her to calm down. Of course, she knew that the strange feeling had to be mutual. After all, he had reverted back to teasing her in order to get her up and moving. And, as much as she would like to deny it, she couldn’t help the fact that she was a little pleased at his show of kindness- no matter how strange it had been.

Speaking of the devil, just before she opened her notebook, he plopped into the seat beside her, looking a bit more tired that she had observed just a few moments ago. She gave him a sidelong glance, looking away quickly as he turned to face her. He looked like he wanted to say something, but just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, Snape walked into the classroom, commanding the attention of his students simply by appearing.

“Open up your notebooks,” he barked, giving a flick of his wrist. The blackboard suddenly began filling up with ingredients for a potion they would be making that class. It was the Oculus Potion, the potion that would reverse the effects of the Conjunctivitis curse.

“The person you are sitting with will be your partner for this class. No switching,” he said, a sinister smirk creeping upon his face upon the groans that emitted from several of his students. Most notably was that of Ron, who had been stuck sitting with Pansy.

“You will be handing in a small vial of the potion at the end of class,” he said, taking residence at his desk. “You will fail if even one thing is out of place.” Another round of groans could be heard, and his smirk widened as he pointedly looked at Neville Longbottom, who was positively frightened.

“You may begin,” he said, directing his attention to the work on his desk. Hermione began immediately copying down the directions and ingredients, while Draco began preparing their cauldron. The silence went on like this for a moment, only broken when Hermione declared that she would be getting the ingredients.

Draco sat down in his seat, eyes fixed on the back of her head as she walked towards the ingredients cabinet. Great, he thought to himself, sighing again. On top of worrying about worrying about Granger, I have this stupid meeting to fret over. Just how I want to spend the rest of my day. He rolled his eyes.

“Let’s start, then,” Hermione said tonelessly as she began preparing the ingredients. She split them up, giving him half and keeping the other half for herself. An unusually comfortable silence fell between them again, and they began their potion.

“Thanks.” It was said so quietly that Draco almost didn’t hear it. He looked up at Hermione in surprise. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of the list of instructions written down in her journal.

“For what?” he asked, turning back to his own work. To any outsider looking at them interact, it would seem shocking. Usually they would be yelling at each other at this point, not talking in hushed, civil tones.

“For earlier,” she responded, dropping a portion of stewed mandrake into the cauldron. It sizzled for a moment before turning a deep orange color. The potion was almost complete.

“Oh,” was the simple reply. In reality, Draco was stunned. He hadn’t been expecting her to apologize; in fact, he had expected her to be more distant that she already was. “It was nothing, I was just-”

“No need to explain,” she interrupted, holding up her hand. Her face gave nothing away, remaining neutral. He furrowed his brows, confused, but shook his head and remained silent.

The rest of the class passed in relative silence, with neither speaking much. As soon as they finished, Hermione carefully poured the concoction into a vial. She brought it up to Snape’s desk and was surprised to find that when she returned, everything had been cleaned up. There were no words exchanged between the two, but she was thankful for his help.

When class was dismissed, she left the class quickly. She could hear both Harry and Ron calling after her as she disappeared from sight, yet she didn’t turn around. She knew she was being childish, but if she faced them now, she would surely leave feeling a lot worse then she already did. It was no surprise then when in the next class, Charms, she avoided them, and indeed, for the rest of the day. It was at dinner, however, when she was forced into confrontation.

She had been sitting down for not a minute, when she heard – and felt – Harry and Ron plop on the bench beside her. She didn’t look up, but she could tell they were looking at her.

“So are you just going to ignore us?” Harry asked her. She could hear the hurt in his voice, and turned to look at the more sensible of her two best friends, giving him a small smile.

“I’m not ignoring you Harry,” she said, patting his folded arms. “I am ignoring Ron.” She turned back to her food.

“Hey!” exclaimed Ron in protest. She didn’t even acknowledge that he had said anything and began to fill her plate with food. She didn’t have much of an appetite, but eating gave her an excuse to not talk.

“What about me?” Ron asked, confused even more now that Harry was in the clear, but not himself.

“I’m sorry, Ron. Did you say something?” Hermione said turning to him after a very deliberately pregnant pause. “I was too busy being boring to notice.” Ron flinched, taken aback by her words.

“What did I even do?!” he said exasperatedly, throwing his hands up. Hermione snapped; she had been trying to keep her cool the whole day. That was her plan, to avoid them for as long as possible and prevent something from happening. But just as death is inevitable to all, so was the confrontation between Ron and her.

She slammed her hands on the table, causing many to flinch, startled at her outburst. She was glowering, her face turning red, and she didn’t even notice the intense pain rocketing up her arms from her drastic move.

“What did you do?! What did you DO?!” Hermione screamed, her body slightly shaking. “Besides insulting me, someone who is supposedly your best friend, you dare to ask me why I am so mad. What did you do wrong? Oh I’ll tell you what you did wrong. Since the time we became friends I have endured your off-color remarks; I have let you use my notes, and helped you study for tests. I even let you talk me into loads of things. Why? Because I thought you were my friend. I guess the feelings weren’t reciprocated.” At this point, tears were streaming down her face, and she stood there, clenching and unclenching her already pained hands. She bent down, grabbed her bag and gave him one last glare.

“Ronald Weasley, you are the most insensitive git I have ever known.” With a sad shake of the head, and for the second time that day, she walked out of the Great Hall, leaving silence in her wake.

Ron himself was stunned. He was so stunned in fact that he discarded the idea of eating (a big move for him). He looked to Harry for help, but his friend was also shaking his head.

“She’s right, you know,” Harry said, standing up. “You really should apologize.” For maybe the first time in his life, Harry turned his back on his best friend and followed Hermione out of the doors.

And for the first time in his life, Ron felt completely alone.

Oct. 25th, 2010

When a Tornado Meets a Volcano

 Chapter 2: The Increasing Winds

Hermione awoke with a start. How long had she been sleeping? Did she miss any of her classes? She raced over to the window, ripping the curtains open, only to find that she was greeted with a cool night breeze. Rolling her eyes, she turned and walked back to the couch, making it groan as she plopped down heavily.

“Goodness,” she mumbled to herself, running a hand through her hair. “I thought I had slept through till tomorrow.” She chuckled to herself, fumbling with the hem of her skirt. She hadn’t changed before she took her nap, and as a result, her clothes were wrinkled. She sighed and stood again, heading towards the stairs to her room.

The way the living quarters were set up was such that she shared a staircase with one of the other prefects. In total, there were three staircases in the rather expansive common room: one on each side for a pair of prefects, and one in the middle leading to the Head Girl and Head Boy’s rooms. Unfortunately for her though, the person she shared her staircase with was none other than Draco Malfoy.

The very same person who was standing in his doorway, looking at her in a bemused sort of way as she made her way up the stairs.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, even though he was quite visible with is disheveled blonde hair and rumpled clothing. He, too, had not changed from his school clothes before collapsing to rest on his bed. She had made it to her door, and was just about to turn the knob when she gave a high-pitched squeak and turned in his direction. He grimaced and covered his ears.

“What the hell are you making so much noise for, Granger?” he asked, rubbing his temples dramatically. “It is the middle of the night, for Merlin’s sake.” Hermione frowned as she turned. Even in her still-sleepy state, the voice was unmistakable – Draco Malfoy was standing not four feet away, scratching his head.

“How long have you been standing there?” she choked out, still a bit shocked.

“Long enough to see you freak out at the mere thought of sleeping through until tomorrow night,” he chuckled to himself, shaking his head. He must have been looking over the small landing at her, and moved when he saw that she was coming.

“Oh, and I suppose you wouldn’t care if that happened to you then?” she raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms skeptically over her chest.

“Oh, I would care,” he said. A small smirk had started to form and Hermione braced herself for the upcoming insult; she knew he wouldn’t pass up the chance to turn her words around on her.

“But, unlike you,” he said, making a loose hand motion in her direction. “I actually can appreciate something that doesn’t involve studying. I don’t hole myself up in that dust bucket of a library and study all day, and I actually have a life.” He emphasized the last word and his grin grew as he saw the look o her face that told him he had struck a chord.

She swiftly made her way over to him, getting right into his face. She glared fiercely into his eyes, and it too all of her self-restraint not to punch him.

“Let me tell you something Malfoy,” she hissed, making him scared for just a moment. “All my life I have been told that I have to show everyone that I am not worthless. I have been appreciating the fact that I am even here every single day since I got my letter. I have been appreciating not having my life magicked away from me countless times. I have appreciated knowing that if I could do my best at something than people would accept me. I know better than you ever will the meaning of appreciating things. So don’t give me this bullshit about not being able to. Come talk to me when you actually can do something on your own without ickle daddy-kins there to pay your way through.” She stood there for a moment, her face flush with anger and her eyes bearing into him like drills in a diamond mine.

“You have no idea what you are talking about Granger,” he growled, narrowing his eyes and leaning menacingly closer. If the air between them had been thick before, you might even say that now, nothing short of a chainsaw could hack through it. They were so close that their noses almost touched, and Draco could feel her warm breath travel lightly over his face. She could hear as his heartbeat increased, presumably from anger.

“Oh, what? Did I strike a nerve?” she asked with mock sincerity, giving him a sickly sweet smile. She pulled her head back just a bit, but he leaned further in, causing her fingers to twitch should she need to defend herself, but she urged on. “I suppose ickle-daddy-kins and Drakey-poo aren’t getting along then?” She used for Draco the silly pet name Pansy Parkinson had bestowed upon him in 3 when he’d been hurt by Buckbeak.

Draco laughed wryly. “You think you know so much, don’t you, Granger?” he hissed, this time making her flinch. “My father…what goes between my father and I, is none of your business and if I were you I would take care to keep my know-it-all nose out of other people’s affairs.”

“What is going on here?” a small, groggy voice asked from behind Draco. He turned to find Serine Driscoll, Head girl standing in her doorway, looking peeved. Hermione blanched; here she was in the middle of the night arguing with Draco Malfoy, completely forgetting to be considerate of the other people she shared the space with. She looked away in embarrassment.

“Why are you two so loud?” Serine asked, placing a hand up when she saw Draco open his mouth to protest. “Get back into your rooms, and go to sleep. We all have classes tomorrow, and I doubt you want to be sleeping through them.” Draco scowled and gave Hermione a final glare before going back into his room with a huff and slam of the door.

Serine raised her eyebrow at Hermione, giving her hand a short flick to indicate that she should be off as well. With head hung and feet dragging, Hermione made her way into her room and shut the door. She pulled out her wand and after casting a silencing charm, opened her mouth and let out the loudest scream she could.

“I HATE YOU DRACO MALFOY!” she screamed, beating her fists on the wall that separated her room from his. She knew he couldn’t hear, but she was satisfied enough with just letting her anger out. She hit the wall until her hands started to bruise then collapsed on the bed, out of breath and with tears streaming down her face. “You are the bane of my existence, and I swear to Merlin, if it is the last thing I do, you will fall. I swear, Draco Lucius Malfoy, you will fall.”


The rest of the night was fitful for Draco. After arguing with Hermione, he had gotten so worked up that sleep evaded him completely. He could still feel the heat of Hermione’s rage beating down on him and he sighed in defeat as he watched the sun come up through his window.

He hated how he let her get to him. He knew that he hated her, yet he couldn’t help the fact that he sought her out constantly to argue. He had figured out that he was a lot more irritable if he didn’t have some sort of spat with her at least every couple of days. It was strange, yes; and though he didn’t want to admit it, he knew that on some level, she made him stable. He closed his eyes for a moment, giving one last huff of breath before rolling out of bed and getting ready for his day.

The night had been no different for Hermione. She had tossed and turned in her sleep, leaving her feeling more tired and short-tempered than she would have liked to be. As she brushed her teeth in the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror. The bruises were starting to turn a nice purple color, and they stung whenever she moved her hands. She sighed; it was all his fault.

Walking out of the bathroom and into her room, she gathered her things. As she headed down the stairs, she heard a click behind her and sped up, knowing that he was not far behind, and not wanting to confront him this early in the morning. She made her way quickly to the Great Hall where she plopped across from Harry and Ron and began filling her plate with food.

She looked up when the two boys her fell silent. “What is it?” she asked, popping a piece of toast into her mouth.

“What happened to your hands?” Harry asked with his eyes wide with shock. She looked down at them and silently cursed herself for forgetting to cast a glamour on them to make them seem normal. She regained her composure momentarily, however, and looked up at her friend.

“I just had a little accident is all; nothing too bad,” she said, giving him a small smile. It was the second lie in less than 24 hours.

“Hermione,” Ron said, causing her to turn in his direction. “You don’t do anything but study. How could you hands have gotten so bruised?” She nearly choked on her pumpkin juice.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Hermione said, her voice rising. “What type of stuff do I do then? You obviously know everything about me and my life, so tell me.” Under the table, Harry kicked Ron, sensing that he was about to say something stupid.

“Well boring stuff; like reading and studying. That’s all you really do. You don’t really have a life.” Ron replied shrugging and stuffing a piece of ham in his mouth. Harry gave Ron a sidelong glance that said ‘You’re doomed.’ Hermione grit her teeth in frustration, glowering at him with all of the nervousness, anger, and tension pouring in to that one look.

“That’s all I do? Ok, thank you for clueing me in Ronald. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go read, study, and continue with my boring existence because according to you that’s all I do and it isn’t even considered a life. Don’t bother to come and find me.” She said, rising. With a flourish of robes and one last hate filled glare, she stormed out of the Great Hall, her face flush and her heels clicking violently against the tile.

Draco was watching the whole time from the Slytherin table. It was understandable why she had avoided him just a few moments ago in the common room – he didn’t want to talk to her, either. But what had concerned him is when he saw the bruises on her hands. He didn’t realize what they were; she had left so quickly he didn’t get a good peek. But when Potter brought it up, he could see them very clearly, as he was sure that everyone else could as well.

Before he knew what was happening, she was storming off, her discarded breakfast plate slowly disappearing from its place. What had happened exactly? Though he was unsure of whether he should, he quickly ate the rest of his breakfast and stood.

“Where you going, mate?” he heard someone ask and turned to see Blaise. His friend was giving him a knowing look, almost as if to say, don’t answer because it obvious. Draco merely said a short ‘see you later’ before making his way out of the hall as quickly – but as inconspicuously – as possible.

He headed towards the dungeons; Slytherins and Gryffindors had double potions together that morning, so he knew that was where she would be headed. He was correct: not far ahead of him, he could hear the now soft click of shoes against the floor. He followed them, but slowed to a stop just before he reached the classroom.

What exactly was he doing, following her like this? It was none of his concern how she had hurt her hands; it was her own fault, right? She had looked so mad when she had left the Great Hall... That was it. He was jealous of someone else who could make her that mad. That was his job; Official Hermione Granger Annoyer. He rolled his eyes at his own rationalization, and took the step he needed to in order to see her around the corner. What he was surprised him.

Sitting on the floor, with her head in her bruised hands and her bag lazily placed beside her, was Hermione Granger. And she was crying.


A/N: Okay, I have to admit, this was a really hard chapter to write. I needed some sort of filler chapter for what is coming next, but I didn't really know how to to do an effective one, so this is the result. Read and review, for sure!

Oct. 22nd, 2010

When a Tornado Meets a Volcano

Chapter 1: The Dormant

The sky darkened slightly as a cloud slowly drifted over the sun. The leaves shook with the light breeze, a relaxing applause of wind through the tree. There were many people milling about; some were talking in loud voices in large groups, others looked as if they were hurrying somewhere. No one noticed the girl sitting alone under the tree, her head leaned back against the large trunk and her eyes closed in a serenity one could only get from sleeping under a tree. Her breath was at ease, and she was very still, save for the rise and fall of her chest with each breath. No one noticed except for one.


The blond haired boy had spotted her sitting under the tree the moment he stepped outside. To him, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Her mass of hair, her freckles all stood out to him as hated things, and he did not want to overlook the opportunity to terrorize her.

“Granger,” He said again as he nudged his foot against her bag. She didn’t stir a tiny bit, which annoyed him greatly. This time he nudged the girl with his foot, and didn’t mind it if he left a slight dust print on her pristine robe. Her head rolled forward and flopped onto the knees which were brought up to her chest.

“Granger, if you don’t get up right now, you’ll be late for Muggle Studies.” He grinned, knowing that this would jolt her right out of sleep. He wasn't wrong- as soon as the last syllable of ‘studies’ left his lips, she bolted upright, her eyes wide with fright. She unconsciously pushed him out of her way as she grabbed her bag and stood up with the quickness of fugitive from the law. It wasn’t until she was halfway back to the castle did she realize that she was not late- for classes had already ended for the day- and she had been tricked from her comfortable spot under the tree. Spinning on her heel, she marched back to the tree.

“What exactly do you call that, Draco Malfoy?” she spat, glaring at her adversary. She was known to have an icy-cold glare notorious for freezing even the most courageous of the Gryffindors. She had dropped her bag near her feet, and placed her hands on her hips, the pose that would tell anyone that knew her well that she meant business.

“Whatever do you mean?” Draco asked her, a belligerent grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. He was still on the ground where she had pushed him just moments before, and he even looked casual in the way that he rested there.

“You know, Malfoy, sometimes I think that it’s not only me,” she said, still glaring and shaking her head in disbelief. “I think you just like to screw with people, you know? You just like to worm your way into their heads like the vile, little snake you are and just play around with their minds.” He stood up and faced her, glaring just as fiercely back.

“You raise an interesting point; however, it really is just you and your little buddies Potty and Weasel.” He retorted, the belligerent smirk growing into a sadistic smile. “However, it really does bother me to see your face every day.” He said it with such nonchalance that upon hearing the words, she turned bright red.

“Just go burn in hell, Malfoy,” Hermione said, her voice dripping with venom. She picked up her bag and began to walk away, this time in no rush.

Draco Malfoy always seemed to leave her with a bad taste in her mouth, and she hated even thinking that he bothered her. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about him; he went to this school just as she did, and it would be impossible not to encounter him at some point. It also didn’t help that he was the second most intelligent student in Hogwarts and a prefect. It meant that their encounters were not uncommon, and, in some cases- though she would have liked to in all- she couldn’t berate and scold him for just being a prick.

On the other hand, Draco Malfoy thought that Hermione Granger absolutely worthy of his hate. .She was intelligent, and though he hated to admit it, she was better at virtually everything that he did. Not to mention, she hung out with the-Boy-Who-Lived-to-Annoy-Him and his sidekick, Wonder Weasel. It was a pity; if she had been born a pureblood, she would have made a wonderful ally if only just for her biting tongue and ability to match him in wits.

Draco scoffed to himself- that girl was so stubborn, even if she was pureblood, she wouldn’t look twice at him. And that was something he didn't have a problem with.

“Hey, Mione, can you pass the potatoes?”

“What exactly happened again, Hermione?”

“I think you should totally kick his…uh…his butt. Yeah, kick his, uh, butt.”

Hermione shook her head; her friends could be so ridiculous sometimes. After hearing their response to the day’s happenings, she was starting to regret telling them that she had had an encounter with Malfoy. Usually, she would be up for the scoffs and stabs at Malfoy, yet today, she was feeling kind of tired, and for once, she was not looking forward to studying. She pushed her plate away and stood up, grabbing her bag form its place on the floor behind her.

“What’s wrong?” one of her best friends, Harry Potter asked her. He looked a bit concerned, but it was nothing to worry about- he always looked concerned.

“Nothing,” she lied, giving him a wide smile. “I am just a bit tired, so I am going to go take a nap.” She shouldered her bag and began to walk away when she felt someone grab her hand.

“Hey,” she turned to see her other best friend, Ron Weasley looking at her intently. “You’ll tell us if something’s up, right?” She nodded and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Don’t’ worry Ron, Harry,” she said giving a small chuckle. “I promise I am okay, and if there is anything wrong I will tell you immediately.” She let go of Ron’s hand and began making her way back to the dorm.

As she walked, she took a deep breath. She had been thrown off earlier when her sleep was interrupted by Malfoy, and it had affected the rest of her day.

“Stupid boy,” she mumbled under her breath shaking her head. She didn’t like the fact the he intruded, but all she could do at this point is go back to her room and finish the nap. Hopefully, he wouldn’t come barging into their shared living area and destroy her regained peace.
Soon enough she reached the portrait entrance to the tower she shared with Malfoy, the other prefects and the Head Boy and Girl. She liked the living arrangement. Usually, she wasn’t a person to hide from her problems, but she was happy that having the other perfects and the Head Boy and Girl there as a buffer between her and her enemy. It was nice to have an escape plan should she ever need one.

She admired the portrait for a moment before giving the password and stepping inside. It was empty, like she expected, and she smiled a little to herself; finally, some peace and quiet. She suspected no one would be around for a while; she’d left dinner not even 15 minutes after it had started, and she was sure that no one else would leave unless they had to.

She placed her bag next to the couch and lowered herself gingerly, shivering as the warm fabric of the couch met with her rather cold skin. Closing her eyes in satisfaction, she curled up into a ball and let her breathing slow. Sleep was not far behind, and within minutes, she was peacefully dreaming.


Draco was angry. He had not been at the dinner table for five minutes when he could hear the mumblings and grumblings of the Gryffindor table. He was slightly flattered that they were talking about him, of course, but it was with malicious mumblings, and clenched fists that they were speaking – not something he wanted to hear. And it was all that Grangers fault.

He watched the table with a hawk like gaze, waiting for her too look his way so that he could show her just how angry he was. Unfortunately for him, she had other ideas, and was on her way out of the Great Hall. He scowled, alerting his friend Blaise Zabini to his distress.

“What is it, mate?” Blaise questioned, giving Draco a confused look. Despite common misconception, Blaise was a category all to his own in the sense that he didn’t care what anyone – not even his own parents – thought of him. He genuinely cared for his friends, and his best friend (though Draco was reluctant to admit it) worried him the most.

“That stupid girl,” he mumbled, violently stabbing the ham that had only moments before been sitting peacefully on his plate. “She is the bane of my existence.” He sighed in exasperation. Blaise smirked, relieved that it was only Hermione that was bothering him.

Blaise was privy into the thoughts of Draco Malfoy. He was only one of two people who could read him like a book, and to his delight, Draco didn’t know it. Blaise knew that his friend wasn’t everything people made him out to be and he knew that with a little nudge, Draco could shock the world with his surprisingly un-Malfoy behavior. He knew that the only reason Hermione annoyed Draco in the way that only she could, was because Draco allowed her to. It wasn’t a very easy thing to explain – after all, this was Draco Malfoy – but he knew that Draco’s bad boy façade could last long.

Blaise nodded his head in sympathy. “Hmm,” was all he said in reply. It was enough for Draco; all he needed was to vent.
“She is going to take over my life Blaise,” Draco whined, his resolve breaking. He didn’t realize the double-entendre of his words, but Blaise smirked to himself.

“I think your exaggerating, Drake,” he said, patting his friend sympathetically on the back. “I’m sure that you will live through it.”

“Whatever man,” Draco said, rising. He was tired, and needed a nap. “I’ll see you around. I’m going to take a nap.” He grabbed his bag, and headed out of the Great Hall. His common room would be empty; Hermione had probably gone to the library (as always), and everyone else was still at dinner.

He chuckled lightly to himself; that girl was too predictable. Though today had surprised him – he wasn’t expecting to find her napping, much less under a tree in the middle of the campus. He shook his head. Whatever, he thought. She can do whatever she likes. It’s no concern of mine.

He made it to the common room quickly and was about spread out on his favorite couch, when he noticed something – rather, someone – in it. He rolled his eyes and sighed. Sleeping peacefully in the middle of the couch was Hermione Granger.

He didn’t even bother himself with waking her; it would be too much of a hassle for him. Grabbing his bag once more, he trudged into his room and flopped down on the four poster bed, closing his eyes in fatigue.

“WHY!” he shouted into his pillow as he rolled over. “WHY DOES SHE HAVE TO BE EVERY-FREAKING-WHERE!?” He didn’t like it, not one bit. It was bad enough that he had to endure everyday knowing that she was better at him in almost everything, but to top it all off, she seemed to intrude in on his life when he least wanted her too.

“God, I hate you Hermione Granger,” he whispered to himself in the quiet of his room. “I hate you so much.” He laughed wryly to himself before settling into a comfortable position on his bed. He was too tired to undress, and the last thing he wanted to do was get up from his comfortable bed.

“Stupid girl,” he mumbled to himself as sleep took hold. “I hate you... so much.”


A/N: Be sure to leave a comment. I am looking for some HONEST feedback; however, no flames will be accepted. Thanks, and I hope you enjoyed it!!

Fan Fiction

So here I am at LiveJournal... Why? Well, here's the skinny:

FanFiction.net is being such a whore, and will not let me start a new story. So, I am here so that I may post my stories here, and possibly get some feedback. I have no idea why I am unable to start a new story; I checked the 'Just In' page of fanfiction.net and it seems that others have been able to start a new story -- in fact, I wold say that hundreds of people have been able to start new stories. What the hell?

Anyways, I will be posting here for the time being, and if by some miracle of god the Moderators of fanfiction.net get back to me and fix the problem, I will be posting there alongside this.

Thanks for being patient with me while the situation is remedied!

Always yours,