A Light in the Dark

Chapter Two: It Started With a Slug... Or Two

As I made my way to the Slytherin common room, I resumed my contemplation on when I started getting this hungry, yearning feeling whenever I saw Hermione Granger; it was like she had something I couldn't take a hold of, despite the purity of my blood and the highness of my class. She had this presence that made her ignore the jeers and insults that would have netted me more detentions than a Snitch gave points.

Researching every magical and non-magical way to make one seem more than s/he is, but finding none in the Hogwarts Library, I even sent word to my father to send me some of the books from Malfoy Manor, expecting to find at least a hint on how Granger was making me feel this way.

No such luck. Surprised and frustrated, I sent word that Father should consider restocking the Library and made life hell for Hermione, the Weasel and Potty. So confused with everything, I ended up getting in trouble as well. That was not a good year for me.

Heading down a flight of stairs, I finally managed to pinpoint the exact time and place I had felt that inadequate feeling, that painful pinch in my gut that caused me to lash out at Hermione instead of complimenting her or being nice at all: A Saturday in second year...

I was making my way to the Quidditch field with the rest of the Slytherin team, a bubble of joy inflating my chest at the fact that I was finally on my house team, when Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint started getting into a spat about who had rights to be practicing that day.

The decision was getting heated and blows were being threatened when I started to try to get to the front of the group, maybe calm them down, ease the strain, or suggest some kind of compromise, when Flint finally snapped that we had special permission to be on the field.

When Flint handed over the signed permission form from Snape, I had manged to push my way to the front just as Wood finished reading, causing all the Gryffindor team mates' jaws to drop in shock, a wonderfully perfect moment in and of itself; but when that was followed by Potter's bewildered "Malfoy?!", it was all I could do to keep from laughing.

"What are you doing, Harry? Why aren't you practicing?" Weasel had shown up with Hermione, who was simply looking confused instead of disgusted, at his elbow, taking in the fact that I was wearing Slytherin Quidditch robes before asking stupidly, "Why is he here?"

"He's their new Seeker," Potter spat as I noticed that Hermione's eyes had traveled over my Quidditch robes and a fierce smile graced her face and let me believe for a moment that she was happy I got on the team, before realizing that, given to the way she looked at me with that smile, she was thinking of ways Potter would humiliate or otherwise defeat me at Quidditch.

"That's not all that's new," Flint gloated, showing the Griffin-dorks the state-of-the-art brooms that came as a reward from my father from getting on the Slytherin team 'behind Potter but there nonetheless' as the letter described, making me feel like I had come up short as always.

"Those are the new Nimbus 2001..." Weasel whispered, practically drooling as his hand reached to touch a broom his family could only ever dream of getting a handle. "Those aren't even on assembly yet! I heard they wouldn't be out for almost a whole year! Where did you get them?"

Even Hermione was looking impressed, which pleased me for some strange reason, as Flint drawled, "Not that it is any of your business, but they were a gift from Draco's father."

"Who, unlike some, can afford the best for his children," I sneered haughtily as laughter followed my comment, causing Weasel's ears to go ruby red and Potter to growl at me threateningly. As if that ponce could frighten me, he was barely even good at Quidditch, no threat at a duel.

Hermione had also turned red, but it was that beautiful, light blush that told you she was mad and caused the Weasel twins near her to back away slightly as she snapped, "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in; they got in on pure talent."

A rush of blood went to my head, pushing out all thought and feeling as all at once the unfairness that was Hermione Granger and her personality registered itself stubbornly and eternally in my brain...

The fact that she was a genius when it came to magic, despite the fact that she was Muggleborn, that she helped anyone, no matter what house they were in, that she was forever with that Weasel and Potter, despite the fact that I was richer, purer and damn better looking than either of those poofs and she never even looked my way.

Damn it all, it was the fact that she was absolutely perfect and I couldn't get near her. I couldn't talk to her without a horde of people interrupting, I couldn't touch her without a stream of people wondering why and I couldn't even breathe in her direction without half the school thinking I had cast a curse on her.

Hearing nothing but the pounding of blood in my veins, tired of the out-of-reach Hermione and the fact that I had just been insulted in front of my entire team, I called her the one word I swore I would never call her.

Mudblood. A word that described only the lowest of the low, a word that could never come close to describing Hermione's class, no matter what her bloodline said or what anybody else said for that matter.

I immediately regretted what I said at the sudden paleness of Hermione's face, the fact that she looked completely startled at the fact that I slandered her. It made me want to apologize, admit that I was wrong in front of all the Slytherins, before Ron decided to do something very Malfoy-like. He tried to curse me.

Luckily, for Ron as well as me, his wand backfired and the curse hit him instead of me, dead in the chest and effectively dropping him to his knees and making him belch slugs all over the grass, narrowly avoiding Potter's shoes as he backpedaled away from his belching friend.

This made the rest of Slytherin laugh out loud, but my laughter died in my throat when Hermione dropped beside him, concern radiating from her bended body, and tried to stop the flow of slugs.

"Pure blood," I muttered, causing to the wall that separated Slytherin common room from the rest of the school to slide away, letting me proceed. "Doesn't matter to her, should it matter to me? Will I become my father if I let it matter to me as much as does to him?"

"Draky! I missed you!" Pansy's high pitched squeal brought me back to Earth and gave me unrelenting proof that pure blood didn't always give you good wizards. "I've been waiting ages for you! Where were you?!"

"Get off me, woman!" I snapped, jerking my arm from the hold she had on me as soon as I entered the room, resiting the urge to brush myself off. "Where I was is none of your business, nor of your concern!"

Pansy tried pouting, which only reminded me that Hermione never pouted or whined for forgiveness; she would just glare or argue until you either fully convinced her with all the facts, or admitted to being wrong.

"Come on, Draky," Pansy nettled, once more enveloping my arm with her own, surprisingly strong given how small she was. " Come to the Astronomy Tower, I've got a surprise for you..."

She let her statement trail off suggestively, making me raise an eyebrow at her, no doubt in my mind whatsoever about what kind of 'surprise' she had, before stating flatly and firmly, "No."

My comment seemed to surprise her, which gave me time to wrench my arm from her grasp, dart to the stairs to the boys' dormitories, and down the stairs before she noticed I moved.

Making it to the room I shared with the other fifth years, I slammed the door shut, muttered a Locking spell that not even Alohomora could open, before finally flopping onto my bed and sighing.

Keeping a strained interest in Pansy was only a front, a ruse so that no one would doubt that I was only interested in girls from the right house, right creed. I would've felt bad about it if I didn't know that I was only one in a long list of guys she had in her pocket.

Closing my eyes and basking in the blissful silence, I drifted into the daydream that was all that kept me from admitting to Hermione Granger that I fancied her and making an utter fool of myself...

I would be walking in the courtyard behind Hogwarts, by the Great Lake, letting my bare feet enjoy the sensation of cool water rushing against my feet, no matter how 'improper' my father might call it, for the only thing that mattered here in my mind was me.

Me and the girl I was walking toward, the girl who was relaxing by the Great Lake, utterly at ease with herself and the universe, and completely oblivious to the fact that I was heading toward her.

Her brown, bushy hair had fallen over her face as she read from a book, partly shadowing it from my view as I came closer, satisfied that I was finally going to get what I wanted ever since I had seen her face when she was concerned for someone, generally concerned and not the compassion that disappeared as soon as the person fell out of favor.

I had only seen it once before, that day in second year at the Quidditch field; and, as I leaned over to brush a lock of hair away from her face, letting my fingers trail over her cheek, I saw it again.

She looked up at me, her face relaxing into a completely untroubled expression and smiled, a smile I only see in my dreams and now, for I am Draco Malfoy 'the snarky git' from Slytherin and there was no way she'd ever want me in reality.

My daydream Hermione immediately closed her book, pushed back her hair, and stood up to embrace me, gentle hands stroking my back as I tucked her head under my chin, molding us together perfectly.

"What's wrong, Draco?" Her voice was soft and flowed over my body like a warm ocean wave, completely encompassing me in its power and majesty while taking my breath away just as easily.

I breathed her in, remembering Hermione's smell. A bit musty from all the books she read and a light flowery scent I didn't have a name for, but adored all the same. I never smelled it on another girl yet. "Nothing, love."

She snuggled closer to me, sighing contently, which made me sigh happily as well. How I wished I could be free to do this in reality, whenever I felt like it, wherever I wanted. Instead, I was bound by rules and regulations that were absolute bullocks.

"I like this feeling." Her voice cut through my mental tirade, a self preservation trait that I learned after listening to my father's seeming never ending rant about 'how much better things were in the old days'.

"What feeling?" I asked, even though I knew the answer. It was my daydream, after all. My fantasy being played out in a corner of my mind unspoiled by my father's rigid upbringing and damn pureblood mania.

"Being in your arms."

I smiled, feeling sleep tugging at my brain, turning this into a real dream as I tilted Hermione's face up so I could see into those chocolate eyes, those orbs which looked at me with an adoration I could never see in real life, but had to be content with here, in my heart.

She smiled as well, leaning forward slightly and closing the distance between us and giving me a momentarily reprieve from the silent battle to do this act to the Hermione that never thought of running fingers through my hair, pressed up against my chest...

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Draco's dorm mates had no problem getting past his Locking charm, it really was only there to keep Pansy from sneaking in. They had noticed, the whole dungeon had noticed, that Draco was getting tired of Pansy and wondered if it was because of the 'wonderful beauty' that he constantly was muttering about in his sleep.

"Mmmhmm," Draco murmured, obviously in one of those dreams right now as he smiled in his sleep, rolling himself around until he was nothing but tangled sheets and covers. "So perfect..."

"Kinda makes you wonder who she is," Tony Windle, a severe looking blond mused, as he threw a pillow at his friend, a towering redhead named Alec Gardner, who caught it with one hand.

"Well, whoever she is, her blood will be nothing but pure," Alec answered, throwing the pillow at Goyle, smirking as it flew past his outstretched hands and onto the middle of his face . "Ol' Draco goes for nothing less, doesn't he?"

"What if he is in an affair with a half-blood?" Goyle grunted, surprising everyone with the fact that he used a word with more than four letters as well as the knowledge that Goyle even knew what 'affair' meant. "Somebody like Susan Bones?"

"Or, worse, a Mudblood? Maybe that know-it-all, Granger?" Tony sniggered as Draco groaned in his sleep and turned on his side. "Given how much they hate each other, that would be perfectly ironic, wouldn't it?"

"No, no!" Alec barked, staring at Draco's smiling form, "What if he was a poof and it was Potter he was dreaming about?! Can you imagine? 'Oh, Potter, you know I'm only mean to you because I don't want you to know how much I care..' Merlin, I can almost see it!"

The last bit made the three boys burst out laughing, falling back onto their perspective beds and startling Draco out of his slumber, making him glare angrily at his dorm mates. "What the hell is so funny, you giggling bunch of poofs?"

That comment being so close to what they were talking about only made the rest of the boys laugh harder as Draco glared at them, bed covers thrown over his head; until he realized how ridiculous he looked and stood up, pulling the covers off and glaring all the while.

"Will you idiots stop giggling like a bunch of girls and tell me what made you all lose your sanity since I last saw you?" Draco growled, using a glare he usually reserved for Potter and the Weasel. The boys sobered immediately, knowing firsthand how deeply devious his wrath was.

"We were just trying to figure out who this mystery girl of yours is, and where she came from, as well as the purity of her blood," Alec finally informed Draco, who paled at the turn the conversation had taken. "Don't try to deny it, Draco, you've been have dreaming about her a lot and avoiding Pansy like the plague."

"I don't need to have another girlfriend to want to avoid Pansy," Draco drawled quickly, knowing a pause would give him away almost immediately. "The girl has a voice like a banshee singing an opera."

This caused the boys to start laughing again, giving Draco time to get his pulse back under control and to think of some change in topic. Something they would talk about for a while.

"When is the next Quidditch match?" Draco asked, knowing his friends were avid Quidditch followers and, sure enough, they immediately launched into a heated discussion on who would cream who.

Merlin, that was close! He would have to be more careful around the Slytherins and especially his friends. Hermione was not only invading his thoughts, but his private life as well. This was not a good sign, not good at all.

"Well, Draco, so who do you think will win next year's Quidditch World Cup?" Tony asked, turning to Draco just in time to see him grab a fistful of hair and start beating his head with said fist, "Draco?"

"What?" Draco snapped, releasing his hair and jerking his head up, blue eyes blazing with irritation and ire. "What do you want, Tony? Why the hell are you bothering me?"

"I was just wondering who you think will win next year's Quidditch World Cup and you snapped at me like I just asked you to become Potter's boyfriend," Tony answered, once more causing Draco to feel the blood rush from his face. "What is going on in that head of yours?"

"Nothing at all, would you please just leave me alone?" Draco snapped, pushing past the rest of the Slytherin boys in fifth year. "I'm going to go to the library, see you guys later."

"Do you want one of us to go with you?" Goyle asked, cracking his knuckles and eager to get into his regular habit of bodyguard. He was missing cracking skulls of unknowing students, but wasn't sure which ones to crack without Malfoy's instructions.

"No," Draco replied shorty, pausing at the doorway. "I'll see you guys at dinner. I just need to be alone for a while, think some things through and finally find a solution to this damn problem..."

Watching as Draco left, the remaining boys shook their heads and gave each other significant looks, unable to contemplate the mystery that was Draco Malfoy, a puzzle to friend and foes alike.