Honorary Slytherin

Disclaimer: I don't own it. I never will. And that's just filthy.

A/N: Here's another one by me! I wrote this previous to "We Both Go Down Together" and have just never gotten up to posting it. At the mo, it is incomplete, but I'm hoping to tie up loose ends here and there. I hope you all enjoy this story and whatnot, and my greatest apologies for not finishing up "We Both Go Down Together" yet.

Chapter One: A Herd of Slytherins and a Nervous Gryffin-dork

She peered nervously around the tiny, white compartment on the Hogwarts express. Hermione Granger was alone. Completely alone, with only Slytherins as company. Unfolding and refolding her hands in her lap, Hermione looked around at each of the seventh-year Slytherins. Each had changed in their own subtle way. Across from her was Draco Malfoy, who had his head resting against the cold glass of the compartment's window. He still had the same platinum-blonde hair that he always had had, but he no longer wore it slicked back and it was now falling loosely around his face. The same features adorned Draco's face as always; he still had a slightly aristocratic nose and his cheek bones were sharp, but still soft enough to make him look delicate and porcelain. At that moment, as Hermione made her last observation, Draco's eyes snapped up from where they had been fixed staring at the floor to look at her. His steely, silver eyes bore into her own wide, amber eyes and she quickly averted her gaze.

A scarlet blush started to creep into Hermione's cheeks as she realized that she had just been caught gawking at Draco Malfoy. That was drop-dead embarrassing. Now he would think that she had some sort of sick, kinky crush on him, when in reality she loathed him. Not that he was ugly; Draco was one of the most handsome boys at school, along with Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini. This year, though, something was different about him, and while Hermione had been trying to figure it out, he had caught her practically ogling him.

"Problem, Granger," Malfoy asked, his signature sneer returning to his lovely face. Hermione was positive that if Draco had never learned how to sneer that he would be ten percent better looking.

"Well, other than the fact that Professor McGonagall stuck me in with you lot, I'm perfectly fine, thanks," Hermione returned with a certain coldness in her voice. Sighing deeply and slightly shaking his head, Draco leaned on the window again.

"What's so bad about Slytherins," Blaise, who had always been known as a very quiet being, spoke up.

"Do you want me to list everything," Hermione said tiredly.

"The point is, Mudblood... no, never mind. If you would just like to sit there and ignorantly stereotype us, then go on ahead," Draco said. Those last words shut Hermione right up, especially when Draco accused her of being ignorant. Who was it that was the top student of their class? Who was it that made Head Girl because of her maturity and intelligence? None of the Slytherins in this compartment did as well as Hermione in school. Not Millicent Bullstrode, not Pansy Parkinson, not Gregory Goyle, not Vincent Crabbe. Draco and Blaise were an exception, seeing as both were the two smartest Slytherins, and right behind her in their class.

"Why did McGonagall make me baby-sit these arses," Hermione muttered to herself. Draco looked up at her questioningly, as if challenging Hermione to say out loud what she had just muttered. She just turned blindly away, and watched what the other Slytherins were doing. Blaise Zabini sat to her right and was absorbed in some thick, leather, ancient tome about, undoubtedly, some sort of Arithmancy technique, since that was his best and favorite subject.

Blaise had not always been one of the most handsome boys in school, but had, within the last three years, become quite the Adonis of Hogwarts. His mother was French and Italian, while his father was completely Italian, which made his skin a creamy tan color. Blaise had the signature Italian curly, floppy mop of black hair and a nose that was slightly crooked since a fistfight in his fourth year. Everyone noticed when Blaise walked down the corridors, most likely because of his enormous height and lean muscled figure. Perhaps Blaise's best feature, though, were his stunning indigo eyes that could melt any girl into a puddle. Yes, it was true; Blaise Zabini was often compared to some sort of Greek god.

Silently, as always, Blaise turned the dusty page in his book and his eyes began to flicker back and forth as they read the scribbled words. Across the compartment, Hermione spied an aggravated looking Draco shove a pug-faced Pansy Parkinson off of his lap. Pansy had always been an ugly person, with her scrunched face and bobbed black hair. As if that wasn't enough, Pansy's high pitched, annoying voice was enough to make you want to wear ear-muffs permanently.

"Oh, Drakey-poo, whatever is the matter," Pansy warbled out, batting her eyelashes and attempting to set herself on Draco's lap once again.

"I'm not in the mood for you, Parkinson. When will you get it past your thick skull that I just don't like you?" Draco shoved Pansy away once again, this time sending her into a burly Crabbe, who fell over onto a frowning Goyle. Both of the disgustingly thick Slytherins began to throw punches at one another, leaving bruises and scratches. Millicent Bulstrode, who had been observing the scene just as much as Hermione had been, was the one to stop the fighting. Millicent was a broad-shouldered, big-boned girl who could get what she wanted with a single glare. Millicent wasn't unattractive, just a little too beefy for many males' choices. So, when she launched herself off of the squishy compartment seat and yanked Crabbe and Goyle off of each other, everyone pretty much ignored her. They were used to this kind of behavior.

Hermione thought the sight was a trifle funny though. Stifling back a giggle, Hermione stared amused at the frightened Crabbe and Goyle, who were quivering under Millicent's glare.

"What's so funny, Granger," Millicent snapped from where she towered over the two boys.

"Er, nothing, nothing at all," Hermione stuttered out, which got a snort from Blaise, who most likely knew exactly what she was laughing at.

"We're to arrive at the Hogsmeade Station in a short while, so you all may want to get changed," Hermione said, effectively changing the subject.

"Mhmm," Blaise agreed as he slammed his book shut. Standing up, he reached onto the metal shelf above where Hermione sat, and grabbed his brown school trunk down. Popping open the buckles on the trunk, Blaise pulled out his school uniform and started to shed his shirt. Hermione just gaped at Blaise's behavior. Did the Slytherins always get changed in front of each other, like it was some sort of group thing?

"Um," Hermione mumbled out, not sure of how to approach the subject of the beautiful shirtless boy in front of her. Wow, he had nice abs, which was totally unexpected. Blaise was supposed to be too skinny, anything to make him flawed. But it was obvious that Blaise was the perfect male specimen.

"Oh, sorry, Granger. Forgot that you were a Gryffin-dork prude for a second. You'll have to live, because unlike you and your friends, we Slytherins have nothing to hide," Blaise bit out. Was he suggesting that Harry had something to hide? Well, of course, Harry did, but well, she wouldn't be telling a whole flock of death eaters that anytime soon.

"I am not a prude. And I have nothing to hide," Hermione said matter-of-factly, her tiny nose scrunching up in distaste.

"Oh yeah? Prove it then," Millicent, who's own hate for Hermione's 'perfectness' had increased. The innocent, proper Gryffindor would never, ever change in front of a whole crowd of Slytherins, especially when two of them were the renowned sex gods of the school and had much to compare her to. Hermione bit her lip, as was her habit, and pondered whether she could show those Slytherins who was who. After all, it was Hermione's last year, Dumbledore was dead, the war against the Darkness was raging on, and to tell the truth, she had nothing to lose. But at the same time she had everything. She didn't need the Slytherins to make fun of her anymore than they usually did, and she definitely didn't need for her best friends to hear about her striptease. McGonagall had set her to watch over the Slytherins, especially Malfoy, and taking her clothes off in front of them definitely wasn't controlling them. But she wanted change. Hermione wanted to do something that no one expected, while still remain the respected student that she was.

Looking up, she noticed that Pansy had already shed her shirt, and was buttoning her school blouse up over a black bra. No, she couldn't. Hermione figured that she and Pansy would have around the same build, seeing as they were both around the same petite height, but Pansy had nothing on Hermione. Hermione had actual curves, which she sometimes hated, like when shirts were entirely too tight across the chest, or when jeans wouldn't fit over her hips. Pansy resembled the anorexic model types, stick straight with ribs showing. She looked so fragile and delicate, and Hermione could truly not figure out why Draco slept with her. It was now or never, though. Either way she would lose part of her dignity, and the daring way was the way to go.

"Fine," Hermione said with a smirk. A very Malfoy-ish smirk. Who exactly was she turning into? Standing up confidently, Hermione turned and stood on her tip-toes so that she could pull her school trunk off the shelf. She numbly dug through the stacks of books and piles of parchment, until she pulled out a white school blouse, a charcoal school skirt, her red and gold striped tie and her Gryffindor emblem embellished robes. All eyes were on her, even if Draco and Blaise and Crabbe and Goyle were trying to hide their curiosity by continuing to change.

Hermione grabbed her maroon jumper by the hem and tugged it over her head, revealing a red lace bra. No one would've expected the haughty head girl to wear such... racy... undergarments. There was a barely audible gasp that went around the room, and the Slytherin girls both sniffed pompously and went back to changing. Besides the fact that Hermione was quite developed in that certain area, she was wearing something so un-Hermione-ish. The Slytherin boys were shocked too, but instead of going back to changing, continued to ogle the new Head Girl. Blaise stood there, eyes wide as quarters, fingers loosely resting on a half undone belt buckle. Draco's mouth was hanging open such as a fish's and he was wondering what sort of thing the head girl was doing. It was he who eventually stopped her.

"Granger, go." Malfoy looked at Hermione with a sickening seriousness in his eyes.

"What are you talking about," Hermione said, confused. Was her daring act worth nothing to them? What the hell did he mean, 'go'?

"I said it before. It's simple. Go. Now." Draco's stony gray eyes had darkened a shade, and it wasn't out of passion. A dark, brooding anger was reflecting from his silver pools. Hermione looked at Draco as if he were mad and made a noise that was a mix between a snort and a stubborn sigh.

"Mudblood filth put your shirt back on. That is nothing that we want to see. Now, go down the hall, find somewhere empty to change and get dressed in your school uniform." There was something hypnotizing about Draco's tone, and Hermione found herself doing every single thing that he told her to do. Her jumper was slipped over her head and she quietly slid from the compartment. Why had she even begun to change in front of the Slytherins? She knew, in the back of her mind, that at least one of the Slytherins would say something mean to her. But Draco had had a look in his eye that was almost a caring gaze. Like he didn't want her to undress in front of his mates. Like he didn't want her to jeopardize her dignity. Did she really matter to him that much? The gaunt pale Slytherin had caught her on her mistake and saved her from humiliation Why?.