Living

It seemed like everything was gray; the sky, the earth, the air...all gray. He stepped forward, mind unsettled by this emotionless landscape. He'd give anything for color, a sign of life. However, the first 'sign of life' he had come across, was dead.

No matter the direction he traveled, they were everywhere. Their pale faces reflecting a final emotion; the shock before death. The actual emotion, not the crap you saw on T.V. or in paintings, it was haunting. It was unnerving. He brushed a hand across his own, wondering if it would ever form into such a terrifying image.

He had lost count of the bodies, as had he lost care. They were dead, what could he do? Exhausted, he lowered himself onto a dead stump, resting his head on a hand. Emitting a sigh, he decided that it was finally time to worry about where he was, why he was there, and how he would leave.

"Come back to me..."

He shot straight up; wand held before him. He was sure he had heard a voice, no doubt. After all, there was nothing else to hear in this dead place. Deciding that, friend or foe, another person could ease his nerves, he set off toward the voice. She wasn't very far, either.

A couple of steps from his stump, he saw her at the foot of a minute hill. Her hair was more frazzled than bushy, and her face was distraught. Heart fluttering, he ran at her, abandoning his wand behind him. He embraced her, and she embraced back. Still filled with adrenaline from his sudden take-off, his grip on her was tight; protective.

"Hermione..." Inhaling heavily, he spoke through huffs, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

"Draco...it doesn't matter. I did a foolish thing, I'm the one who's sorry." Breaking the hug, she stepped back to look up into his eyes, "How did you find me anyway?"

"I just followed you--" He was cut short by a voice dripping with venom, "Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione's scream loomed in the dense air as he watched himself fall, shot in the chest with the blinding green light. It seemed as though he was falling in the slowest motion imaginable, as though it would take years for him to reach the ground. But as soon as it had started, Hermione's scream ended as she fell to her knees beside his crumpled body, tears flooding her mud-shaded eyes.

"No!" He stood beside her, looking down at himself, "No no no! You can't be dead! YOU CAN'T!" She lifted his head onto her lap, stroking his pale, emotionless face. Her sobs increased, tears now flowing like blood from a fresh wound.

"I love you..."

___

Draco flew from his bed, landing beside it in a mass of knotted sheets and thick, green blankets. Laced with sweat, he rubbed his forehead and groaned.

That's the third fucking time this week...

For what seemed like the millionth time, he stood, snagged the gnarled wad, and chucked it on his bed. This had become far too routine. Wobbling over to his dresser, he glared at his tired face in the mirror. His gray eyes glazed over the reflection, searching for any oddities or imperfections in his appearance. After a thorough inspection, he found that he did not like his hair. Looks weird from all the sweat...

In a fluid movement, he was out the door and heading toward the bathroom. Just as his fingers brushed against the chilled, golden handle, he was assaulted with the brisk clearing of a throat.

"And just where do you think you're going?" He turned to face the most horrid thing he had ever seen; Hermione Granger standing before him clad in a crimson bath robe...with bed hair. This was not what he needed right now, nor ever. Annoyed, he sighed and glared at her.

"I'm going to go into the bathroom and take something known as a 'bath', ever heard of one Mudblood?" Crossing his arms, he rested his bare back against the door, continuing to give Hermione an icy glare.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. You know very well that I called Thursday morning bathroom usage, so I'd like to ask you to respect our agreement and leave." She crossed her arms as well, shifting her weight to one side. He noticed that in her movements, her eyes had rested uncomfortably on his shirtless abs for a second. This made him grin.

"Woo, touchy touchy Granger!" He uncrossed his arms and took a few steps toward her, "As you can see, I'm not in the best of moods this morning. Now I know that you can't help starring at my topless figure, probably the only topless thing you'll ever see, but if you keep starring, Granger..." He reached out and flicked a curl of her bushy hair, "I might just have to do something..."

She slapped his hand away, emitting a disgusted squeak. Knowing that she could not win, she sped back to her room.

"Ta ta, love!" He gave a fake wave and headed to the bathroom, pleased with himself for getting the last word.

___

Classes went by as sluggishly as they could for Draco, especially Advanced Potions. Snape was in a rather rotten mood, which meant Draco was to suffer the most. After all, he was Head Boy and Snape's best student (Snape really didn't count Hermione as a 'student', just an obnoxious know-it-all), so he was expected to perform perfectly in all he did. Thankfully, Draco could counter Snape's foul mood with the remembrance of this mornings events, which lifted his deranged spirit a bit.

He managed to survive Advanced Potions without one mistake, and relished in the fact that Hermione had blown up her cauldron. Draco, feeling rather victorious over Hermione today, waited outside of the dungeons for her, smirk planted on his face. As the sound of her footsteps grew louder, Draco hopped around the corner, only for her to smash directly into him.

"Watch it, Mudblood." He quickly shoved her away, sending her down to the ground, her books scattering in every direction. Draco snickered, pleased as he watched her scramble about on the floor. "On the floor where you belong, bowing down before me. Maybe if you beg, I won't hex you too much Granger." He laughed again.

"Shut-up Malfoy!" Hermione had gathered her things and stood, glaring daggers at him. His laughter ceased as he glared right back. He noticed that she looked quite tired and shaggy, and her hair had traces of cauldron grime in it. Snape must have made her clean it up by hand...He quickly shook his head, bringing back his trademark smirk as their eyes bore into one another.

"Really Granger, you're so testy today! Not acting very 'Head Girl'-like at all!" He sighed, placing a hand on his forehead, "What would the Headmaster think?"

"Shut-up!" She roughly shoved past him, heading to the Great Hall for lunch. Draco's eyes followed her until she disappeared from his view, wondering what got her knickers in a twist. Must be having some problems with that boyfriend Weasel-face of hers...He grinned, emitting a 'hmph'. "'Bout damn time, too..." He muttered casually to himself as he followed Hermione's path to devour some food.

___

Lunch had come and gone rather smoothly for Draco, (except when Pansy tried to feed him, which caused Draco to fling the fork across the room and into some poor Hufflepuff's soup) and now he was down to the last class of the day; Ancient Runes. Draco had a certain like for this class, and was one of the most advanced in the school. Three guesses as to who the other most advanced was...

As he strutted into the classroom, he noticed that Hermione was not present in her usual first row seat. In fact, she was not present at all. Draco sat down in the second row, looking about the room to see if he missed her. She's always the first in here...He dug through his bag, snatching his book and some parchment, Must be off in a corner, snogging her precious Weasley or Saint Potter. He smirked as he placed his black quill and an ink bottle on the table, eyeing the few other students that came shuffling in.

Hermione was the last person to enter the class room, and just a few seconds from being late at that. She quickly launched herself into her chair, which was directly in front of Draco. As she removed her materials from her bag and delivered her apologies to the professor, Draco couldn't help but inhale her lovely strawberry scent. His eyes fixated on her bushy head, noticing that her hair was damp. She must have taken a shower between classes. So that's why she's late, eh? Takes to long to clean your bush Granger? For what felt like the millionth time that day, he smirked. His silent victory was smashed by the sound of Professor Hale beginning her lesson.

"Today, we shall decipher some text from the historic copy of a Goblin Rights Treaty. Kindly open your books to page five hundred and twenty-four and we shall begin." Flipping his book open, Draco pondered as he searched for the correct page. What the hell is with all this 'Goblin Rights' shit? I swear it's all we learn about in this bloody school! 'Goblins started a war', 'Goblins rebelled', 'Goblins suck ass'...

The rest of the lesson passed by quickly, and no one had enough time to finish the translations of the Goblin Rights Treaty. That is, except for Draco. He had finished his with ten minutes to spare. He packed away his things, and looked up to see Hermione still bent over her parchment, quill scribbling away. Weasley really must have done a number on her...The ten minutes passed, and everyone was assigned to finish the deciphering the treaty as homework. Draco, pleased with his homework-free day, snagged his bag and sauntered out of the room, heading toward the Head Boy/Head Girl common room.

___

"Assnine." Draco tapped his foot impatiently, glaring at the painting, "Hey Assnine! Wake up, dammit!"

"Huh, what? Who's wantin' pineapples?" The painting of an older man with a long, grey and pointed beard stirred, sitting up in his chair. He wore old medieval-style clothes, colored with green and gold. Tufts of grey hair poked from beneath his simple pointed black hat, which shadowed over his long nose and beady eyes.

"No one wants any Assnine fruit, now wake up and let me in!" Draco sighed heavily, despising the stupid painting he got stuck with. "Wonderful Harnunckcious, now open up!"

"Oh," the man stated loathingly, "it's you. First off, it's Phasnine, you idiot, I don't know how many times I have to tell you. Secondly, you could try and show an old man some respect, you know." Phasnine eyed Draco cautiously, hoping that the boy wouldn't rip his painting to shreds.

"Wonderful Harnunckcious." Draco's voice oozed with venom and annoyance. If this damn old man doesn't hurry up, bloody Granger will catch up with me.

"Alright, alright!" Phasnine's portrait swung open, revealing the entrance to the Head's common room. "Try getting a few manners, you rotten boy!"

"Right..." Draco slid into the common room, dumping his bag on the leather couch. He walked over to one of the large windows and gazed at the lake, wondering what to do with the rest of his day. Luckily, he had no homework to worry about, and there was no Quidditch matches until next month. Maybe I should patrol the dungeons for snogging first and second years...Or maybe I should go give Pansy a detention for touching me...Or maybe I should go hex the snot out of her and dump her in a random classroom...Yeah, that sounds good. Draco smiled to himself, taking pleasure in the thought of Pansy sprouting talking warts all over her face. Despite what many people thought, Draco actually hated Pansy. He'd heard the rumors that he and Pansy had spent a 'hot night' together in the Astronomy Tower, and was often asked how things were going between them. He'd spent countless nights lying in bed, pondering what he would do to the person who started those filthy rumors. Probably that gitty Lavender girl. The rumors had began to die down though, ever since Draco began to publicly display his hatred for the pug. He'd treat her worse than he treated the trio sometimes, and that was considerably harsh. But, no matter how badly he treated her, the stupid pug would never give up on her love for him. That made him hate her even more. He despised it when people submerged themselves in blind hope, much like his mother always has.

Lucius had been released from Azkaban a year ago, proven innocent of any wrongdoing. Narcissa had been so happy, that she had a 'Welcome Home' party for him. That night, Lucius had gotten drunk off Firewhiskey. As soon as Narcissa had gone to bed, he sought out Draco, and scolded him for 'bringing shame to the Malfoy name'. Unsure of what he had done this time, Draco asked his father about it. Big mistake. Lucius went into a drunken rage, and cast the Cruciatus curse on Draco for close to fifteen minutes. That night hadn't been the first that Draco had suffered the Crucio curse, and it probably wasn't the last either. Since that night, all Lucius has done is lock himself in his study for hours, doing Merlin knows what. That was what Draco hated about his mother. Everyday she would be her cheery self, spoiling Draco with love and adoration. Everyday, she would hope that Lucius would do the same, that he would change. It was that blind hope that angered Draco so. Lucius can never change. Never. He has no heart. He pushed himself away from the window, laying on his back on the couch. "Neither do I..."