Worthy

Chapter 3 The Olden Ways [Champagne Supernova by Oasis]

Sharply at 10 AM, that day, Draco boarded the train bound for Hogwarts, ready for a fresh start despite his usual nightmare about Voldemort and thus little sleep . The sweet aroma of the candy trolley wafted through the air as familiar faces greeted him when he made his way to his train car. The whistle screeched while the floor pounded beneath his feet. A couple of wizards' heads turned intently watching someone nearby.

In the short distance, he saw a crimson plaid kilted mini skirt accentuating shapely legs and a petite but cute figure beneath a snug crimson tank top gliding gracefully through the passageway. A full soft mouth smiled mischievously. Beautiful almond eyes emphasized porcelain skin beneath a crown of lustrous honey colored, long wavy hair. Wow!

Fingers snapped a couple of inches in front of his face breaking his moment of fantasy. "You coming or not," chimed Revus, a chubby, ginger haired fellow intern.

"Give me a minute," Draco replied, looking past Revus who moved out of the way. Sighing, he focused in on her once more, his sworn enemy, Hermione Granger, who had apparently reinvented herself recently. Musing on their past, she had always been so conservative in manner and dress he hadn't realized she had such a cute figure. On second thought, one time he used an invisibility spell to sneak a peek at the ice queen but she blossomed since then. Then a twitchy, sniveling, joke of a wizard with coke bottle glasses and mangy, sandy blond hair fell into step next to her carrying Crookshanks, her large orange tabby. This wizard wore a Ravenclaw pin though Draco didn't recognize him at all and moreover gave him the willies to the point that he felt a rage like no other swell within him.

"Got another pet there, Granger? Looks like he's still in training; maybe he can carry your purse and wand for you as well?" Draco chuckled in self-amusement. "Is he house-broken?"

Glasses stepped into the train car as Granger stormed towards him, fists clenched. "Don't you ever talk about him that way again, Malfoy!" Deeply, he drew in the light scent of heavenly gardenia with an undertone of exotic spice when she approached. Pretending to listen, as he stared at her cleavage, her words became a din of gibberish. Due to his height, he had a perfect view. Repeatedly, he reminded himself of her filthy Mudblood status, which would surely make her far less attractive. In fact, that was the only way he could insult her because he couldn't find any other material to work with.

"Malfoy - You arrogant PRAT!" She dug her heal into his foot as she left.

"Filthy Mudblood!"

Why did I just do that? I'm trying to change. Limping to his train car, he joined Revus and Gangley, a tall, gaunt fellow, a Slytherin as well, who waited for him. Draco boasted of his exploits for the past year, ending it with Clarissa the babysitter. They sat in awe and then proceeded to tell tall tales. Though morons, he inherited them as approved acquaintances by his father's associations. With them, it seemed more like in-breeding instead of pure-bloods.

Revus asked Draco, "So who is the witch you most want to shag that you haven't?"

"Hermione Granger," he absently blurted out amongst startled gasps and incredulous looks. Desperately, he tried to think of a retraction for, to his own surprise, the truth.

"But she is a Mudblood and one of your sworn enemies," Revus stated.

"Exactly, and there lies the challenge! Imagine her humiliation after I boast of how I shagged her rotten all night." He thought for a moment. "You to better not say anything to anyone ever or so help me, I'll curse you. This requires time and extensive planning. It stays between us, no matter what."

"Fifty galleons says you can't," challenged Gangley. "You can't use love or lust potions or spells."

"Deal," Draco agreed.

---------------------------------------------------------

With its luscious green fields dappled with a rainbow of flowers, the grounds of Hogwarts clung to the last vestiges of summer. A smile of long forgotten happiness came to Draco's lips as he moseyed through the stone hallways, stopping at all the portraits. After the things he had done here, he gladly donated funds for its restoration. Moreover, he happily accepted the offer to intern there. Sometimes he ran his fingers along some of the plaques. Then he saw a room forbidden to wizards, so he went in. "Hello old friend," he said to the nothingness.

"All grown up," a female voice squeaked. Suddenly, the ghost of Moaning Myrtle appeared with her glasses and long dark pigtails. "Come to visit little me."

"I've come to thank you for being my only true friend and for listening." Draco amusedly watched as she flew around through the toilets splashing copious amounts of water.

"Only friend, that really is sad." Myrtle pursed her lip out.

"Yes, it is. You know Myrtle, I've slipped back into my old habits."

"Really, what did you do?" she inquired.

"Granger and her friend irritated me. Before I knew it, I reverted to my old ways." He leaned against the wall in exasperation. "Maybe I can't change."

Now Myrtle stood next to him. "If you have that attitude, you can't."

"I know but there's something about her friend that set my nerves on edge. Besides, nice isn't natural to me."

Myrtle heartily laughed. "Well, there's always next time. At least, you have a sense of humor."

"Very few appreciate it." Draco combed his long silver hair and straightened his slate gray interns' robes. "Well, I'm off to look menacing to the newbies."

Before lunch, Draco strolled into the courtyard to a large oak tree. In its shade sat a bronze statue of a phoenix with the inscription, "In Loving Memory of Albus Percival Wufric Brian Dumbledore." At the base of it, Draco placed a purple and white tiered flower, Dragon's Breath, which in an abstract way bore a resemblance to a dragon. You knew I didn't want to kill you. If you had figured out my other half-hearted attempts, why didn't you say something before? Sadness replaced the joy of his Hogwarts' homecoming as Draco bowed his head. Would you have helped me or do only saints deserve help? Very briefly, his bottom lip trembled but the Malfoy stoicism quickly took its place. Out of remorse, Draco remained, remembering the past until lunch.

Warm sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows of the dining hall, as Draco enjoyed his rosemary chicken, chatting with his fellow pure-blood interns. Then he felt a slight hand rubbing his thigh. Batting her baby blues at him, Pansy's dark hair fell across his shoulder.

"Miss me," she purred. "Want to sneak off, just like old times?"

"Pansy, it's been over for months now." Draco escorted her out of the dining hall, shrugging her off as she tried to hold his hand. "I still care. If there's anything I can do?" He felt something for her at one point but not love. Reflecting on it, he felt anything but familial love. "I'm sorry."

"Fine," she said abruptly, swiftly doing a one-eighty.

Soon, he figured, she would somehow get even with him. Then he turned towards some lilting feminine laughter that floated towards him followed by piggish snorting. Granger and Glasses strolled through the hall side by side, causing the hair to bristle on the back of his neck. Glasses' mere presence grated on his nerves like nails to a chalkboard. He slammed through the doors as he left for home to do his gubernatorial duties.

-----------------------------------------------

On his way to tutoring the next day, Draco overheard some of the students talking about how his father deserved to be in jail and wondering how long until he followed. They gasped and quickly stepped back as he bulldozed past them. Instead of Draco Malfoy of the powerful Malfoy family, many people just thought of him as just the son of a Death Eater and former Death Eater himself. After Voldemort's demise, Draco could once more wear short sleeves without feeling sick.

Later that day, Revus gave him a report on his findings about the Glasses and Granger affair. He was a pureblood but from an inconsequential family in the United States and a Mudblood sympathizer. Apparently, she had spent much of her summer in New York City with him. Otherwise, he remained a complete mystery. Whimsy Root, the prime ingredient in love potions had been stolen from the potions supply closet. Glasses could be using a love potion on her, or so a few students thought. In addition, that morning, a couple of students caught them shagging in the closet. For some reason he could not understand nor explain, that news infuriated him.

Draco face burned as he stormed through the halls, parting a sea of students. As he rounded the corner, he plowed straight into someone. Looking down, Hermione's face rebounded from bumping square into his chest. Instinctively, he grabbed her to keep her from falling. "Watch where you're going, Granger!"

Undaunted, she glared at him, meeting his eyes. "Maybe if your nose wasn't stuck in the air so much you would notice where you were going, Malfoy!"

"If you were taller than a house elf, I might have seen you." Out of polite courtesy, holding her shoulders, he steadied her on her feet. "Speaking of which, have you freed anymore of your people lately?" When she tried to slap his sneering face, he caught her hand making her stumble forward a little. "Given up boxing," he taunted. Inadvertently, he lightly stoked the inside of her wrist with his thumb. At that moment, his intern's robes served an unexpected purpose.

She bit his hand, clearing his haze. "Let me go!"

"Pigmy," he retorted at her retreating figure, as he rubbed his hand.

"Ogre," she yelled back at him

------------------------------------------------------------------

Well into the night, Draco felt warm sumptuous lips touching his. The scent of gardenia with a subtle undertone of an unfamiliar wild spice ensnared him. Soft, perfectly shaped legs straddled his hips while he caressed warm curvaceous hips bound by silky lace. When he opened his eyes, Hermione smiled at him with her sparkling almond eyes, wearing a sexy black and green teddy with a small Slytherin emblem on the front between her breasts. Reaching up to the undo the bow on her teddy, she shook her head and looked at him regretfully, brushing his hands away from her. "I'll never be yours."

In the ebony of night, atop the silk sheets of his own bed, Draco awakened frustrated and stiffly walked to his bathroom. A splash of icy water brought him to his senses and he squared his jaw while he looked in the mirror. Why in the world would you ever think of that Mudblood as attractive? Because she's unattainable. "Forget the bet. Remember, you hate her and you don't want that filth touching you." He repeated those words until he convinced himself they were true. So much for making a change.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day after tutoring a mixed group of students about defensive spells, Draco saw Hermione leaving the breakfast hall and cornered her. "For the record Granger, I hate you."

"For the record Malfoy, I'd rather sleep with a troll than have anything to do with you." With Glasses in tow, she hurried off. Several of his students snickered at that remark.

McGonagall observed the incident as well as Professor Mordor who would oversee the Provectus Potions portion of the curriculum. "Remember our idea about bridging the gap between the pure-bloods and muggle borns?" The younger blond witch nodded. "Those two should be paired together. They'll be an example."

Mordor's eyes widened. "They'll kill each other. That won't be much of an example."

A smile formed erasing McGonagall's wrinkles with laugh lines. "Those two were at the top of their class. Ambition will replace hatred, at least temporarily." Slowly, McGonagall shook her head. "If it doesn't, then the other students may have a chance to win.

Until his potions class, Draco worked his best at the governorship. Early in the morning, in his gym, he punched his frustrations away and squelched an odd bloodlust that he couldn't understand nor could he pinpoint its source. Though he acknowledged a secret admiration for Hermione's intellect which manifested in outright harassment; somehow Hermione had become the itch he couldn't scratch, physically.