Heart of Ice

             The Head Boy/Girl Common Room was, in a word, amazing. The green carpet was thick and lush, and obviously charmed to be warm. The walls were paneled in wood until halfway up, where they were painted a rich crimson. One wall held two gigantic windows facing the lake, complete with thick green and gold curtains. Between them was a large wooden bookcase, full, that was just begging to be explored. In the space before the bookcase was a large round table, with a chair on each side. Hermione noted that since it was the only table in the room, they were obviously expected to work together. The opposite wall held a large stone fireplace, already lit and casting warmth into the rest of the room in every sense of the word. Above it was a silver and gold coat of arms that included a lion and a snake. Right now, they were both sleeping, it appeared. Facing the fireplace, and to the left was a soft green couch, and on the right was a red one. A long wooden coffe table sat before them.

           "Professor...it's wonderful!" Hermione squeeled. Dumbledore smiled warmly at her.

           "I'm glad you approve, Miss Granger. Mister Malfoy? What do you think?" Both Hermione and the Headmaster were curious as to what he would say, being as he was raised so wealthily. He spun around slowly, taking in every side of the room.

           "You know, I can make a lot of people in Hogwarts jealous just by describing this room."

           "I can scarcely believe you admitted to liking something!" Hermione said with mock enthusiasm. Draco shot her a dark look, causing her to look away quickly. "Sorry," she mumbled.

           "Well, I'm sure Mister Malfoy can be agreeable when he wants to be," Dumbledore said, his eyes crinkling in the corners with mirth.

           "Well, if you must know, Granger, my only problem with this room is that their attempt to blend our House colours makes it look like bloody Christmas in here. I wasn't going to mention it, but since nobody is content until Draco-bloody-Malfoy says something negative..." Hermione scowled and was about to retort, but Dumbledore, sensing Draco's frustration, decided to ignore the comment and change the subject.

           "Now, then," he said a bit louder than necessary, "Let us sit down for a moment shall we? I'm just dying to try one of those couches."

           "Of course, Professor," Hermione replied, shooting Draco a disgusted frown as she made her way to the red sofa. Everyone was pleasantly surprised at the way the couch seemed to relax their entire body.

           "Charmed, Professor?" Draco asked. Hermione looked at him quizzically.

           "Right you are, Draco. The couches have been charmed to make you more comfortable, and the carpets are charmed to be warm. The door on the wall on the left leads to the bathroom, which is quite grande, I assure you. The bath is self cleaning,and will always contain warm water. The doors to either side of the fireplace lead to your rooms. Any more questions about your new quarters?"

           "Are there any shortcuts to get to our Common Rooms and the Great Hall?" Hermione asked.

           "Your rooms each have entrances to your Common Rooms. I'm afraid you have to walk to the Great Hall." Hermione nodded. "Right then. I have a few ground rules for you. First, I trust that as Head Boy and Girl you will be able to set an example for the rest of the students here. That means no fighting...especially between the two of you." At this, Draco and Hermione glared at eachother. "Ahem, if you must fight, do it where the students can't see you." Dumbledore took a steadying breath to prevent himself from laughing. "Second, when punishing or rewarding students, you must do so fairly and without bias. Your responsibilities this year include organizing the Prefect meetings, and leading them. As such, you are responsible for making sure all special occasions; special trips, dances, etc; go well."

           "No problems here, professor," Draco said smoothly. "Granger?" he asked, daring her to complain. She glared at him.

           "Sounds perfect to me."

           "Excellent!" Dumbledore smiled broadly at them, seemingly oblivious to the animosity between the two youths. "You two must be tired, and I'm sure you have much to discuss, so I'll leave you to it! Have a good night, you two."

           "Goodnight, Sir," Hermione said. Draco just nodded at him, prompting Hermione to roll her eyes.

           After the Headmaster left, an awkward silence filled the room. Hermione sat staring at her feet, lost in thought, until she heard a strange noise coming from her room. Curious about the noise, and figuring that this was as good a time as any to chekc out her new quarters, she hopped off the couch and turned to Draco. He was leaning back comfortably, once again staring off into space. Harry's right...something strange is going on with Draco Malfoy this year. "I'm going to check out my room, not that you care," she told him. He ignored her. Hermione sighed and approached the door. There was no doorknob. Startled, Hermione took out her wand. "Alohomora!" she tried. Nothing happened. Flustered, she tried again. "Alohomora!!!"

           Draco watched amusedly as Hermione tried to open her door with an unlocking spell. He considered letting her keep on trying and just watching for the sheer entertainment value, until he heard a pleading cry come from her room. He realized uneasily that her cat, Crookshanks, was locked in. Assuring himself that he was not going soft, he just didn't want to get in trouble for not helping her, he approached her door to do just that.

           "What do you want, Malfoy?" she snapped bitterly. He lazily shifted his gaze to lock with hers.

           "Temper, temper, Granger. I noticed that you couldn't figure out how to open a door properly, and thought I'd show you how a real Wizard works." He watched with satisfaction as her cheeks flushed an angry red.

           "I don't need your help, Malfoy, so sod off." She whipped her head back to the door, and pointed her wand. Draco tried to suppress the small grin itching to reveal itself. She never gives up, does she? "Revalio Incantatem!" she cried. Nothing happened.

           "MEROW!!!" Crookshanks whined. Hermione hesitated, then sighed resignedly as she turned to a smirking Draco.

           "Alright Malfoy, if you're so bloody brilliant YOU open the door!" she snapped. Draco shrugged.

           "I am bloody brilliant." He gestured for her to move aside, which she did reluctantly. Alright, let's see....I've seen every type of door imaginable at the Manor and not one has ever managed to keep me out.... He tried knocking. Nothing happened. Ignoring Hermione's snickers, he suddenly remembered a similar door that had lead to a library. Think, Draco! How did you open it?

          Hermione studied Draco's face curiously. She was still laughing to herself about his knocking, but he seemed completely unphased by it. Now, he was biting his lower lip slightly, and there was a spark in his eyes which Hermione had never seen on his sneering face before. She recognised it instantly as the same spark people saw in her eyes when she was on the verge of solving an arithmancy problem. She shuddered involuntarily. Something about her and Draco Malfoy sharing a 'spark' of any kind unnerved her greatly. She decided to ignore it.

           "No, I tried that and it cut my hand off..." he was muttering to himself. Hermione's eyes widened.

           "What cut your hand off?" He waved at her absentmindedly, telling her to leave the subject alone. She frowned. "Well, if there's a chance the door's going to hurt you, maybe you shouldn't..." She was interrupted by Draco snapping his fingers triumphantly. Suddenly he grabbed her arms and pulled her closer to him so she was directly in front of the door. If the unexpected contact wasn't enough to make Hermione lose composure, the foreign chills it sent rippling through her limbs was. She was suddenly made very aware of how close she was to him. Close enough to feel his warmth. Close enough to. . .

           Startled and confused by this unexpected--and completely inappropriate--line of thought, Hermione tried to wrench herself away. Draco, thinking he’d been hurting her, loosened his grip considerably, but didn't let go. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Malfoy?!" He rolled his eyes at her.

           "Helping you get into your room, Granger!" he snapped frustratedly. She was about to question him again, when he pressed her palms up against the door. It flashed gold for a moment, then swung open soundlessly. Draco dropped her arms and smirked at the surprised look on her face. "It recognizes your touch," he drawled.

           "Er....thanks, Malfoy," Hermione replied, the rush of sensations she'd felt a moment before completely forgotten. Draco scowled.

           "I wasn't helping you, Granger," he mumbled as he stalked back over to his couch. "I just couldn't think with you pointlesly shouting 'Alohomora' at the top of your bloody lungs all night."

           "I would have figured it out eventually!" He ignored her and slouched back on the couch, once again staring at nothing. It was then that Hermione noticed a ginger blur rushing by her. Hermione watched with horror as her cat blatantly ignored her and pounced onto Malfoy's lap, startling him.

           "What the-?! Oh, it's you." Draco smiled, the first genuine smile Hermione remembered seeing on his face. "Hey there buddy," he murmered as he stroked Crookshanks back, eliciting a small mew of contentment from the cat. Hermione watched with growing fascination, realizing for the second time that day just how good looking Draco Malfoy was. His mercury eyes were framed by thick lashes, and his full lips curved teasingly at the corners. His platinum hair was beautiful, his face was beautiful. . .and one glance could tell you that his body was beautiful too. Hermione realized that she was letting her gaze linger on him for too long, and snapped herself out of her trance.

           "Crookshanks! Get over here this instant!"she called desperately. Draco grinned at her.

           "What's the matter Granger? Didn't I tell you I was a magnet? Nothing can resist me."

           "My cat is fraternizing with the enemy! That's what the problem is!" To her surprise, this remark seemed to affect Draco. His smile vanished and he shrugged, leaning back again.

           "And here I thought Voldemort was the enemy," he whispered. Hermione blinked in surprise.

           "What did you say?"

           "Nothing, Granger. Why don't you go check out that room you wanted so desperately in to a second ago?" Hermione considered this for a moment. She realized that this was the perfect moment to ask about the summer's happenings. After a minute or two, Hermione decided to be brave and sat back down on her couch.

           "Er, Malfoy?" He ignored her. "Malfoy?" she said insistantly. He continued to stroke her cat and stare off at nothing. "MAFLOY?!" He turned to face her.

           "Granger?" Hermione shuddered slightly at having his hypnotic grey gaze focused on her. She shifted uncomfortably.

           "What happened to you this summer?"

* * *

            “And here I thought Voldemort was the enemy." Draco sighed to himself, thinking about just how fucked up Granger’s priorities were. Her and her little Gryffindor friends thought they could defeat Voldemort eventually, when they thought he was bad? They had no clue what htey were up against. I always knew they were stupid. He continued to pet Crookshanks, letting the animal's deep purr soothe his nerves.

           Draco had a growing crisis on his hands, and not only was he not sure how to solve it, he wasn't sure if he wanted to. Lucius had taught him to live without fear, without regrets, without conscience, and without ‘love’; in short, without weakness. Draco now feared nothing, because he'd already experienced the worst tortures imaginable. Once you'd hung in a rat and spider infested dungeon for two weeks with no food, water, or light, you learned very quickly that it couldn't get much worse. Especially when most of that time was spent under Cruciatus, as well. What else was there to fear? Death? Death was just a long, peaceful sleep, really. Emotional torture? Well, that worked if you cared. Draco didn't care about anything. Not really. Sure, he made certain his 'friends' passed and knew what they were doing, but it wasn't because he cared. It was just something he felt like doing, plain and simple.

           As for having a conscience, or regrets...Draco knew you couldn't change the past. And since he didn't care about anything, what would he regret? Besides, he had never done something against his will before. Well, not in the past two years. Before his 5th year, Draco had still been weak. He had cared about one thing: pleasing Lucius, and staying off his bad side. At one time, Draco would have done anything if he thought it would satisfy his father. Then, something just clicked--or snapped--in Draco. He finally realized that he would never receive his father's approval, and that his father's approval would not get him anywhere anyway. He didn't want anything his father could give him.

           Certainly not his 'love'.

           Draco felt like laughing at the notion. He was 17 years old, and he had no idea what 'love' was, (unless you count the many nights of 'love making' he had had with nearly every girl in his year). He had heard children say they 'loved' their parents, and parents say they 'loved' their children, but whatever it was that made their eyes sparkle when they said that, Draco knew he had never felt it. And his parents had never looked at him that way. Draco had been angry when his mother was put in St. Mungos, but that was because she had made his life easier. She always attempted at least to keep Draco's punishments to a minimum. Draco didn't know why she'd done that, but it wasn't because she'd ‘loved’ him. He didn't think he ‘loved’ her, either.

           "Er, Malfoy?"

           Now, Draco didn't know what to do. The moment he was born, Malfoy Manor and all of the family's money was destined to go to Draco. No matter how much Lucius hated him, Draco was set for life. But what life? He had refused to be Voldemort's pawn. What the hell would he do now? The Dark Arts were all Draco knew...

           "Malfoy?"

           Draco had no future. He had no present. All he had was a horrible, horrible past. And if he was painfully honest with himself, he would have admitted that he felt hollow. He had no place in life. People didn't like him, and he despised people. Especially bloody Potter, Weasel, and...

           "MALFOY?!"

           Draco turned to regard the girl who had interrupted his train of thought.

           "Granger?" he asked, trying to keep his temper, and wondering why she was still there. She shifted uncomfortably.

           "What happened to you this summer?"

           "How the fuck is that any of your business?" he snarled. She shrugged, looking...hurt? Draco blinked, then tried to analyze her expression again.

           "Look, I know you couldn't possibly care any less--"

           "You're right about that."

           "--but I did help you that night, and you really scared me. I honestly thought you were going to die." Draco watched with disguised fascination as she tried to blinked back tears. "I know if the situation had been reversed it probably wouldn't have mattered to you." He considered bolting out of the room right then and there. This was making him uncomfortable, but he was not a coward.

           Hermione focused her cinnamon eyes directly on his, and Draco found himself unable to look away. "Look, Malfoy. I think you are the most cruel, stuck-up, spoiled, argumentative--"

           "I think I get the point," he said dryly.

           "--ill-mannered prat I have ever met in my entire life!! Don't you ever think otherwise. But I never wanted to see you dead. It scared the hell out of me. I haven't been able to sleep properly since, and it's all your fault! I must have owled thirty times before they threatened to make somebody else Head Girl! Are you listening to this? I almost lost Head Girl because I was worried about you, of all people! So I think I at least deserve a bloody explanation!"

            Why the hell was she crying again? Draco hated it when she did that. It was disturbing. Still, there was no way in hell he was telling her what happened to him; that Lucius had done those things to him. The last thing he needed was her pity. Besides, it was none of her business, and it was defintely none of Potter’s business. Realization dawned on Draco. He placed Crookshanks on the floor, and crossed over to where Hermione was sitting. Her eyes widened as he pointed his wand directly at her chest.

           "Listen, Granger. I don't know what kind of an idiot you take me for, but I am no fool. If you want to make it through this fucking year unscathed, you'd better stop this shit right now. Do you understand?" he growled. Hermione shook her head confusedly.

           "I just want to know, okay? I need to know what happened. I'll never bother you again, I swear, and I'll never tell another soul!"

           "Ha!" Hermione's narrowed her eyes dangerously, ignoring Draco's wand.

           "Is that what this is about? You think I'm looking for gossip?!"

           Draco suddenly felt exhausted. "Isn't that it? Come on Granger, you don't make sense. I don't understand..."

           "What, Malfoy? You don't understand the concept of somebody caring about somebody else?" Draco cringed inwardly, and ran his hand through his hair.

           "You do not care, Granger! You have no reason to, and I don't want you to! Just, drop the fucking act!"

           "Yes I do care, you miserable bastard! Fine. If you won't tell me what that was all about, I'll find out for myself. Don't think I can't!" With that, she stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her. Draco groaned. What the hell was that about? It was none of her business what happened that summer. And it was Crookshanks who found him. If it had been just her that night, he’d have been dead.

           He walked over to his couch and sprawled across it, staring at the ceiling. He hadn't noticed it before, but the ceiling was enchanted to look like the sky, much like the one in the Great Hall. I'd probably have been pleased to die if it wouldn't have made too many people happy. They don't deserve the satisfaction. She 'cares'. Yeah, right. I should have hexed her. The only thing that snooty little bookworm cares about is how many OWLs she gets. And she has no right to care what happens to me, anyway. Why the hell am I thinking about Granger? He scolded himself. Draco turned to roll over, and winced as pain shot through his left arm. He bit his lip and waited for the pain to subside. Although Madam Pomfrey had tried, Draco's arm would never heal where the Dark Mark had started to manifest. At least it didn’t work. I'm not a Death Eater, just as I said I wouldn't be. Wouldn't that surprise Granger! Draco smiled to himself at this, and fell asleep.

* * *

           "That conceited, miserable, stubborn, over-bearing, blonde haired, silver eyed--" Hermione blinked. "I mean, that bastard!" Hermione growled with frustration, and plopped down on her bed. I only wanted to know, for Merlin's sake. He thought she wanted gossip? If she had wanted gossip, she’d have gone to Lavender and Parvati, not him! And since when did Hermione gossip with anyone? The only friends she had were...Harry and Ron. Oh, how could I be so stupid? He thinks this has to do with them! For some reason, this hurt Hermione's feelings. Everyone thought her lfe revolved around books, Harry, and Ron. Okay, so maybe it was true. She didn’t have to like it.

           Hermione was extremely frustrated that Draco wouldn't tell her what had happened to him. She was curious by nature, and this was a mystery she had to solve. In fact, there were many things about Draco Malfoy Hermione wanted to figure out. For instance, why did he never say a kind word to anyone, but he'd sit and pet her cat for hours if she let him? Why was he doing something helpful, like opening Hermione's door, one minute, then threatening somebody the next? And who hated Draco Malfoy enough to kill him? Unlike any situation involving Harry, you couldn't just peg this on Voldemort. Draco Malfoy was more likely to be killed by Dumbledore than Voldemort, and that was saying something.

           Hermione sighed, and came to a decision. She would figure out what happened. She'd get information from anyone and everyone she could.

           She had to know what happened to Draco. Exhausted, Hermione drifted off to sleep with thoughts of a certain enigmatic Slytherin on her mind.

* * *