Water by kissherdraco
And I wonder when it was that I started needing you like water.
Chapter 1. Hermione Granger saw him turn around to look back at her before he went up the stairs. She knew he was handsome but- fuck- she hated him so much. He stared at her knowing that alone could provoke a response. His sickly grey-slate eyes carved his stare right into her skull. Hermion e could feel the burning in her blood, the familiar hotness across her cheeks rushing over her chest and tainting her skin with that dark, crimson anger she no longer bothered to hide. Yes, just looking at Draco Malfoy made her loath him more, and loathing itself was terribly underrated. He turned back and began the heavy journey to the top of the staircase. ―I despise you,‖ muttered Hermione, as she walked behind a corner of the abrasive stone corridor. The coolness of a nearby draft washed over her skin. Would the hatred ever end, she wondered, when they got older and learnt the value of judgement and impression? Imitate those people she read about, rise above it, see the good? No, most definitely not. To her, to Harry and to Ron, the abhorrence was most definitely fatal and permanent. She felt that he was evil, and very often became sure. Draco Malfoy was her he r only exception to believing that, intrinsically rooted somewhere within, there was a good in the spectacularly underhand Slytherin. It was all about about him from now on. Hermione could no longer hate him by pretending he didn‘t exist. He did. He existed behind that bloody portrait and in the common room behind it. Harry had said to her, ―Don‘t talk to the bastard, because you don‘t have to‖, and she didn‘t want to. He robbed everything from her when he became Head Fucking Boy. Malfoy had friends in high places. A dog for a father who died and left him all the riches. A dog that deserved to die, and Hermione had never wished death upon anyone. Expect Lucius Malfoy. Did it all make sense, them being here like this? Head Boy and Head Girl bound by a title she never thought she‘d regret. She had worked harder in the past few days than she did in her whole time at Hogwarts to avoid him. Ten minutes before he came into the common room, ten minutes after he left the common room. Late down d own to breakfast and early to bed. be d. It seemed hardly worth it for such a useless mindless pretentious cut o f life. As the hours passed she found he wasn‘t even worth avoiding. She liked liked to think the hatred surpassed even ev en the effort to hate itself. It had become a complete disregard. But she felt cold whenever he entered the room. Was that disregard? Feeling cold? Six days in from election and the y needed to speak. Before then it was through others, through the prefects. p refects. Hermione felt pathetic sometimes, and wondered if he felt it too. But no, she would realise, the opinion of himself could never be brought down. On such rare occasions of eye contact, Malfoy looked at her with a the kind malcontent disgust that simmers in your head for hours. No, he only thought she was pathetic. Draco Malfoy was a Prince. Behind the stone wall Hermione crumbled slightly. This co uldn‘t be it. Couldn‘t be the way wa y it would be from now on. Six days in and they did, they really did, need to speak. Hermione wondered if she could pass a note instead. The idea almost made her laugh; Malfoy, laugh; Malfoy, I don‟t want to talk to you so I‟m writing to you instead . No, Malfoy made her feel small already, and she knew it was important to him that she seemed scared-
Was that true though? Did she seem scared of Malfoy? There was a possibility that he thoug ht that. The Head Boy rules over everyone, even the Head Girl? She wasn‘t scared though, she was honest with herself about that. The thought that it might come across that way caused the same crimson to splash onto her cheeks. The prick was manipulating her without her even knowing. kno wing. Did other people think she sh e was scared of him? Was that how it looked? Harry was definitely not afraid of Malfoy. Him and Ron would step in front of her whenever when ever he approached them to jibe and sneer. She had h ad felt protected although slightly resentful of the fact. Sh e wanted to defend herself, and on the rare occasion of being addressed directly by Malfoy, she certainly knew she could. She would, given half the chance, in a decent argument that didn‘t involve the word ―mudblood‖. Hermione had a nasty tongue when she wanted to and if ever there was a just cause to use it, it was on that son of his father. fath er. But her and Malfoy never spoke more than a few words. Harry never let it happen. Any An y remark about whether or not Harry was going to ―try and grab the th e Granger bitch for a quick shag before dinner‖ was met with the threat of his fist. ―I mean it,‖ he said, ―Just avoid him. Don‘t go where he goes. Leave when he comes in and keep yourself to yourself.‖ Harry was so angry when they an nounced Malfoy. He knew wh y it wasn‘t him, of course, they all knew why, but still his fists clenched as his jaw tigh tened when when he pictured the bastard near Hermione. ―And if he touches you, so help me Merlin I'll-‖ I'll-‖ Hermione had smiled appreciatively, almost screaming inside. And so the ruination of her final year at Hogwarts. The complete undoing of o f any admiration in being Head H ead Girl. The only thing stopping her from handing over the position was herself. The pride and the hatred that tangled her up in the job. She would keep it because if she didn‘t, Malfoy would win. Hermione dragged the hair tie out her hair and shook her head. Reaching for the mirror in her bag she looked at the reflection. She wanted to be beautiful for Malfoy. That was what pissed her off the most. He was so fucking righteously handsome it seemed to suck the beauty from anything else. But not from her. She knew he knew that, and she knew it herself. People stared at Hermione and they had done since fourth year. She loved it sometimes, but Harry and Ron were still learning to fight back the evil glares to those passing. They warned each other off with those things, all the boys, and Malfoy seemed best of all. Though he never looked at Hermione, not hard like the others. He didn‘t seem to see what wh at they did. It frustrated her. Well, she thought, h e would have to notice her now, because it was now, after six days, that they were going to talk. * Draco was stretched out across the sofa of the common room. His legs were propped up on the furthest arm, one crossed the other. The sofa normally seemed so big, but right now, Draco surrounded it. She knew he‘d sensed her presence because he‘d started humming. That was his way to disregard her. She walked over to him, slightly shaking with anticipation, wishing angrily she wasn‘t, and stood in front of the sofa. Behind her the fireplace was roaring. The Th e sharp warmth bit at the back b ack of her thighs. Your funeral, it spat. Draco stopped humming and stared at her abusively. ―You joke Granger,‖ he smirked, ―You can‘t seriously think we are about to have a conversation?‖ ―We have to sort out prefect rotation Malfoy.‖ She thought th ought if she used his name back it would establish some power.
Was that true though? Did she seem scared of Malfoy? There was a possibility that he thoug ht that. The Head Boy rules over everyone, even the Head Girl? She wasn‘t scared though, she was honest with herself about that. The thought that it might come across that way caused the same crimson to splash onto her cheeks. The prick was manipulating her without her even knowing. kno wing. Did other people think she sh e was scared of him? Was that how it looked? Harry was definitely not afraid of Malfoy. Him and Ron would step in front of her whenever when ever he approached them to jibe and sneer. She had h ad felt protected although slightly resentful of the fact. Sh e wanted to defend herself, and on the rare occasion of being addressed directly by Malfoy, she certainly knew she could. She would, given half the chance, in a decent argument that didn‘t involve the word ―mudblood‖. Hermione had a nasty tongue when she wanted to and if ever there was a just cause to use it, it was on that son of his father. fath er. But her and Malfoy never spoke more than a few words. Harry never let it happen. Any An y remark about whether or not Harry was going to ―try and grab the th e Granger bitch for a quick shag before dinner‖ was met with the threat of his fist. ―I mean it,‖ he said, ―Just avoid him. Don‘t go where he goes. Leave when he comes in and keep yourself to yourself.‖ Harry was so angry when they an nounced Malfoy. He knew wh y it wasn‘t him, of course, they all knew why, but still his fists clenched as his jaw tigh tened when when he pictured the bastard near Hermione. ―And if he touches you, so help me Merlin I'll-‖ I'll-‖ Hermione had smiled appreciatively, almost screaming inside. And so the ruination of her final year at Hogwarts. The complete undoing of o f any admiration in being Head H ead Girl. The only thing stopping her from handing over the position was herself. The pride and the hatred that tangled her up in the job. She would keep it because if she didn‘t, Malfoy would win. Hermione dragged the hair tie out her hair and shook her head. Reaching for the mirror in her bag she looked at the reflection. She wanted to be beautiful for Malfoy. That was what pissed her off the most. He was so fucking righteously handsome it seemed to suck the beauty from anything else. But not from her. She knew he knew that, and she knew it herself. People stared at Hermione and they had done since fourth year. She loved it sometimes, but Harry and Ron were still learning to fight back the evil glares to those passing. They warned each other off with those things, all the boys, and Malfoy seemed best of all. Though he never looked at Hermione, not hard like the others. He didn‘t seem to see what wh at they did. It frustrated her. Well, she thought, h e would have to notice her now, because it was now, after six days, that they were going to talk. * Draco was stretched out across the sofa of the common room. His legs were propped up on the furthest arm, one crossed the other. The sofa normally seemed so big, but right now, Draco surrounded it. She knew he‘d sensed her presence because he‘d started humming. That was his way to disregard her. She walked over to him, slightly shaking with anticipation, wishing angrily she wasn‘t, and stood in front of the sofa. Behind her the fireplace was roaring. The Th e sharp warmth bit at the back b ack of her thighs. Your funeral, it spat. Draco stopped humming and stared at her abusively. ―You joke Granger,‖ he smirked, ―You can‘t seriously think we are about to have a conversation?‖ ―We have to sort out prefect rotation Malfoy.‖ She thought th ought if she used his name back it would establish some power.
He kept smirking at her. ―Your hair is a bit of a mess,‖ m ess,‖ he said, rere-crossing his legs the other way, ―You should take a brush to it Granger, learn a few things about personal grooming.‖ This was the reason she had never spoken to him longer than a few seconds. This was why it was w as never more than ―fuck off‖ and ―go and fuck yourself‖ and ―shut the fuck up Malfoy‖. ―It concerns the duties,‖ she said as nonchalantly nonch alantly as possible. She tried to remain calm and casual, one hand on her hip and the other by her side gripping the rotation chart. ―I‘ll ― I‘ll leave you Slytherin and HuffleHuffle-‖ ―You can do those little wankers,‖ scoffed Draco. ―Who, Slytherin?‖ He glared at her. Hermione shrugged. ―Fine. I‘ll take Hufflepuff.‖ ―You want to know why I‘d rather do Ravenclaws, Granger?‖ ―No I don‘t.‖ ―All the virgins want to get fucked.‖ Hermione made a sound of revulsion. She scorned him. ―Wanting it and being forced into it are hardly the same thing, Malfoy.‖ Malfoy.‖ He smirked. ―You have no idea of mymy-‖ He paused for thought. ―Should I say skills?‖ She raised an eyebrow and chucked the chart at him. He caught it in front of his face. ―Careful Granger,‖ he frowned, ―I wouldn‘t go throwing things at me.‖ God she she hated him. She hated him so much. ―Return it to me after you‘ve finished.‖ ―I‘ll leave it for you somewhere I‘m sure.‖ Hermione shifted her weight to the other leg. ―Fine,‖ she replied, fighting a mumble to speak firmly, clearly, uncaring of his complete and utter disrespect for- Merlin- for anything for anything . He raised his eyebrows. ―Well if we‘re done here now, I‘d like to get back to what I was doing.‖ ―Which I noticed to be incredibly incredibl y productive,‖ she commented, ―I won‘t do this on my own, Malfoy. We‘re supposed to be-‖ be-‖ ―If you say a team Granger,‖ he spat, ―I will personally make it my priority to ruin you.‖ That did make Hermione laugh. ―A team?‖ she repeated, shaking her head, ―No.‖
