Turning Points

Turning Points: Chapter Five

Unbeknownst to anyone but himself, Headmaster Dumbledore kept a close watch on the two students after witnessing their walk on the grounds. It was things like this that made him wish he had taken Fred and George Weasley up on their offer and bought some extendable ears. It was driving him mad that he, the omniscient headmaster, did not know what the two students were up to. They were as different as night and day and he could find no reason for their sudden closeness, especially where a Malfoy was concerned.

'Perhaps,' he wondered, 'It would be a good idea to give them more opportunities to be together without causing suspicion. Miss Granger can do a world of good for Mr. Malfoy. It can only help our side in the upcoming war if they team up... he does know a lot about Voldemort and his supporters,' Dumbledore mused. 'Yes, they would make an excellent pair for Head Boy and Head Girl. Mr. Malfoy would, of course, expect nothing less than this prestigious title his final year at Hogwarts. It should also keep Lucius from trying to overthrow the Board of Governors again if young Mr. Malfoy is in a place of power in the school to sneak out any information that goes his way. And Miss Granger... well, Miss Granger is the brightest student Hogwarts has seen since Tom Riddle. It's only natural that she should become Head Girl. How fortunate it is for us that she is on our side.'

The next night, in the Room of Requirement, Draco was grilling Hermione on the uses of different curses. He already had them all memorized; one can't grow up with Lucius Malfoy as a father and not learn how to inflict pain on an opponent. 'How strange that the goody-goody Gryffindor's favorites are all hexes used to inflict the maximum amount of pain and leave no evidence whatsoever that anything was ever used,' he mused.

Hermione, however, wasn't paying much attention to Draco's quizzing. She knew it all by heart already, as well. 'After all, one can't study something for a year and not learn it. It's impossible!' she told herself.

"Malfoy," she started, "Can we cut it out with the constant drilling? If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to act like a prat."

"I just enjoy taking my daily frustrations out on you, dear."

"No, you're just a prat," she said, smiling. Hermione often wondered why she ever let Draco in on her plans. To her, he was nothing but an annoying inbred pureblooded insufferable git and she regretted her decision almost every minute she was in his presence. Then again, she figured he still thought of her as some insufferable and bossy know-it-all so it wasn't all bad.

'Maybe if I had let the Zabini's cat out of the bag instead of acting like a good little subservient mudblood, things could have been different for Dra-- Malfoy and myself. He is kind of nice and cute when he keeps his mouth shut... No, he is not cute. Ever,' she reprimanded herself. 'But still, what happens when we defeat Voldemort? I don't think I'll want to just disappear into some boring job. Malfoy and I could rule this place. Fudge is basically in the Malfoys' back pocket anyway, and I'm sure he'd love to hand over his power to Drac-- MALFOY, if given the right incentives. But do I really want to battle my only supporter? No, we'll have to be joined. Before that happens though, I'll have to make sure his darling father is out of the way; Fudge surely favors him more. And Lucius himself would be opposed to such a marriage, I'm sure.

'Hmm... marriage... to a Malfoy...' a giddy feeling rushed through her at the thought of being wed to Draco. 'Ugh,' she thought. 'I'm calling him Draco and feeling giddy at the thought of marrying him. I've definitely lived in the same room as Lavender and Parvati for way too long...'

Her head dropped into her hands and she groaned, causing Draco to look up at her with a questioning look. When she didn't look up after a few minutes, he cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know Dark Ladies groaned like schoolgirls," he taunted.

In reply, she stuck her tongue out and told him to go stuff himself. "Very mature, Granger. Am I supposed to be the grown up in this relationship? Do you plan on regressing all the way back to childhood? Be sure to let me know so I can leave," he sniffed.

"Relationship, Draco? Why sweetie, I didn't know you cared," she said, monotone, while batting her eyelashes.

"Care? Hah. You may be of pure blood, but that doesn't mean my standards have lowered any."

"Hah," she snorted, "If your standards are so bloody high, explain Parkinson. I'm dying to hear your explanation for that one."

"That was completely my father's doing," he grumbled. "The Parkinson family is very high up in society, I'll have you know."

"Funny... I could've sworn the Zabini's were better off than the Parkinson's..."

"They are." When she looked at him questioningly, he added, "You are a Granger. Of the Muggle Grangers."

"I'm sure a simple blood test would prove otherwise."

"So would a lot of other things..." he trailed off.

"Such as?"

"Well, your appearance definitely doesn't match the typical Zabini appearance. All old pureblooded families have done certain... things to ensure their descendents look similar to themselves," he explained. "It's how you can tell for certain that a child is truly the father's child and the woman hasn't been whoring herself out."

"Maybe I'm the exception to the rule--" she started.

"Granger," he whined, "There are no exceptions to the rule."

"And why not," she demanded

"Exceptions to the rule are taken out into the forest and left to die. I told you, bastard children are not allowed in the pureblood side of the wizarding world," he explained, narrowing his eyes. Draco was beginning to doubt the validity of her claim. No Zabini would be allowed to live if it had such disastrous hair.

"Must you be such a difficult git?"

"It's a gift. Comes with being a Malfoy," he said proudly.

"Then I surely pity whomever gets stuck with you," she retorted.

Ignoring her insult, Draco continued, "Yes, Malfoys are all-powerful, rich, well-connected, handsome, debonair... Well, I could just continue on and on, and as much as I enjoy these verbal sparring matches, are you going to explain your connection to the Zabini's or am I going to tell the world that you're studying the dark arts?"

She shrugged. "You'll find out Hogsmeade weekend."

"Granger," he warned, but all she would do is repeat "Hogsmeade weekend" so he eventually gave up and turned to head back to the Slytherin dorms, fully intent on leaving the cleaning up to Hermione. Before he exited the room, though, Draco couldn't resist the chance to taunt her a little. "Why, Granger, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous you don't have a chance," he said with a wink.

"Where the bloody hell did that come from?"

"Just continuing our original conversation..."

"Okay... That's right. I'm jealous. Draco Malfoy please be mine! I want to love you forever and ever and--"

"Stop it, Granger. You're making a fool of yourself," he growled.

"You asked for it." And with a smirk and wave of her hand, Hermione left Draco standing alone in the center of the messy room.

"That utter witch," he fumed.