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Sometimes Hate Is a Good Thing

by Hermione-G-Weasley
 
 

Chapter 10
Hell Begins After Breakfast
 

The day was going to be hell. Hermione knew this as soon as she had glanced at her
schedule. Transfiguration first, followed by Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology,
lunch, and then double Potions. That was just what she needed. Two hours of sitting in
the dungeons with the Slytherins. Two hours of Malfoy staring at her and teasing her
the way he had done at breakfast.

Hermione walked down the dimly lit hallway with her best friends. She was on one end,
Ron was in the middle, and Harry was on his other side. She felt her feet lagging, and she
realized that for once she was walking behind the guys instead of in front of them, but
she
didn't care. Her mind was elsewhere.

She was still reliving the previous night vividly. The way it was replaying in her mind over
and over again reminded her of an All Day Pass on Muggle Pay-per-View. The same
thing over and over and over.

It was driving her mad.

When they finally reached the Transfiguration room, she realized all too quickly that this
was perhaps going to be worse than the double Potions lesson awaiting her after lunch.
As soon as she entered the room, the pornographic film in her mind went into overtime,
and she was soon bombarded with images and feelings.

And when she sat down behind the very desk that she had lost her virginity on... Well,
that was strange. She carefully sat down in the chair and glanced at the desk in front of
her. There was no sign of anything which indicated the events of the previous night, but she
still couldn't help but feel as though Harry and Ron would somehow know the moment
they set their bags down on it and fell into the seats on either side of her.

Goddamn. Why hadn't they just picked a different desk last night? She should have
known this was going to be awkward.

"Hey, guess what," Ron said excitedly from her left.

She turned to face him, momentarily thankful for the breach in thought he had caused
her. "What?"

"Harry and me actually got a lot of good work done last night. We shouldn't have to work
too much longer at all." He beamed as though he were pleased beyond words that they had
finished a project on their own without Hermione's help.

"Harry and I," she said unconsciously.

"Huh?" His beam faded into a bewildered look.

"Harry and I, not Harry and me," she corrected crossly. It bugged her beyond words when
they used incorrect grammar.

Ron just rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm tired." And with that, he laid his head face-first
down onto the table in front of him.

Hermione winced thinking of what had transpired on the place directly below his face just
a few hours before.

At that moment, though, Ron was forced to lift his head as Professor McGonagall entered
the room swiftly. He groaned slightly at the indication that he would now be expected to
work, but Hermione barely noticed him.

She was too busy watching her professor intently, and it seemed as though McGonagall
were watching her just as intently.

She couldn't know, could she? Of course not. That thought was absolutely ludicrous.

"Miss Granger, may I please see you?"

Shit.

Hermione reluctantly got up from her place between Harry and Ron and walked to the
front of the classroom where her professor sat behind a large mahogany desk.

"Yes, ma'am?" she asked as innocently as possible.

Professor McGonagall's voice dropped a few notches; she had obviously noticed the
entire class straining to hear what the private conversation was about. "Miss Granger, I
understand that you and Mr. Malfoy are doing a research project for your Potions class
together; am I right?"

Hermione nodded nervously.

"And you are using my classroom, no?" The old woman raised her eyebrows behind her
glasses.

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione muttered, growing increasingly more nervous.

"Well, Miss Granger, I am afraid that I must voice my shock that you, of all people,
would be this careless."

How in the hell had she found out? Hermione could feel her eyes start to water from the
back as the sudden reality that her whole life was about to fall apart set in on her. "I'm sorry.
It's just... It's just that..." she was stuttering frantically, "It just happened." She looked down
at her feet, unwilling to meet her teacher's eyes.

"Well, I only ask that next time the two of you clean up after yourselves," McGonagall
tapped a finger impatiently against her desk.

"Excuse me?" Hermione looked up at her teacher- half bewildered and half mortified. Clean
up after themselves? Eww...

"Yes, Miss Granger," the older witch continued. "I entered my classroom this morning to
find tiny bits of discarded parchment littering the floor. I do not mind you using this room,
but I must ask that you keep it as tidy as you find it in the afternoons. I am not your maid,
Miss Granger, nor am I Mr. Malfoy's. If the two of you make a mess of your papers and
ink, then I must insist that you clean it up."

A thousand emotions flooded Hermione all at once as she let out a huge sigh of relief. If
she had been the devout Catholic that the rest of her family was, she would have made a
special trip to the church to give thanks for her teacher's talk being about a simple mess of
parchment. Of course, she would also be frequenting the confessional to receive a ton of
Hail Marys in exchange for the many impure thoughts that rested themselves inside of her
mind at all times. A smile covered her lips quickly as she remembered her first Communion
and Confession at the age of eight, during which she had been completely embarrassed and
ashamed to tell her priest that she had taken Ellen Jefferson's last Blow-Pop without her
permission. She was glad she had given up religion. There was no way in hell she would
be able to tell her priest about her excursion with the most forbidden male in the school.

"Miss Granger, are you listening to me?" The strict tone of Professor McGonagall's voice
knocked Hermione out of her thoughts.

"Oh, yes, ma'am. I'm sorry. Yes, I'll make sure it doesn't happen again." She said all of this
very quickly, looking at her head of house extremely seriously.

"Good. Now, please return to your seat."

Hermione nodded and hurried back to her place at the table which she did not doubt had
seen more action than all the other ones in the classroom put together. She heard the
professor start her lecture on human Transfiguration from the front of the classroom. Ron
and Harry both looked at her with imploring faces.

"What was that about?" Harry was the first to speak after Hermione had seated herself
and pulled out her parchment and quill.

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, Malfoy and I must have left a mess of discarded
notes that we didn't notice. She was just telling me to make sure that we clean up when
we're finished for the night." Studying, of course. Finished studying.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You looked like you were going to shit a brick up there." Ron
could always be counted upon for his bluntness, no matter how crude it was at times.

Hermione tried to pretend as though she had no clue what Ron was referring to. "I always
get nervous when I think teachers are angry with me, don't I?"

"But why would you think McGonagall was angry with you?" Ron's blue eyes stared into
her own, and she looked away quickly, unable to lie when eye to eye with anyone.

"Well, I didn't know, did I? I had no idea why she was calling me up there." She tried to
make it sound as normal as possible, but she was sure that there was a shaking still hidden
in her voice.

"Mr. Weasley! Miss Granger! Mr. Potter! If you cannot keep your conversations to the
hallways and to the Gryffindor Common Room, I will separate the three of you for the
remainder of the year. Do you understand?" McGonagall was staring at their table sternly.

Ron muttered something that sounded like, "Stupid cow," before muttering a "Yes, ma'am,"
through gritted teeth. Harry just nodded quickly and looked down at his empty sheet of
parchment as though it were the most interesting thing in the world.

And Hermione just wanted to cry.

This whole morning was entirely too much. And she feared it would only get worse.

*************************************

Granger hadn't shown her face at lunch. Draco, of course, figured she was too scared to
face him again after the way he had made her squirm during breakfast. Her two little butt
buddies were there, though, and he could not miss the death glare that Weasley was
shooting his way through 3/4 of the meal.

So, Granger was choosing to be the coward today, was she? Oh, well, she could
disappear during lunch, but he knew she would rather kill herself than skip class. And it
just so happened that the two hours following this divine meal would be dedicated to a
dungeon filled with none other than the Slytherin and Gryffindor seventh years.

Oh, he would enjoy watching her sweat those two long hours out.

But as long as he was in the vicinity of Weasley and Potter, he might as well have some
fun, right?

Forgetting his food, he got up and marched across the Great Hall to the Gryffindor table.
The two Golden Boys were sitting across from each other, and they both looked up as
Draco came to stand behind the smaller of the two. After all, it was safer that way. Weasley
had been shooting him death glares for the past forty-five minutes for seemingly no reason
at all.

He smirked at the sight of the hatred on their faces. "Where's Granger?"

Weasley sneered up at him, looking ready to strike at any moment. "Why the fuck do
you care?"

"Why the fuck do you think, idiot?" Draco retorted quickly. "I need to talk to her about
our project."

"Well, she doesn't need to talk to you," Weasley said rather matter-of-factly.

Draco laughed slightly. "Oh, I get it now. So, she thinks for you, and you speak for her.
Is that the way it works?" The look from Weasley was more than enough to make Draco
a little fearful, but he would never outwardly show this. Instead, he just drawled on. "And
do the two of you have some sort of payment for each other's services? She allows you
the image of her face while you jerk off, and in return, you make her decisions for her? Is
that it?"

Draco was well-aware that he had drawn the attention of every sixth and seventh year
Gryffindor at the table, and he liked that. He liked the feeling of being the center of attention.

Of course, he didn't like the feeling of Weasley's fist on his nose...

It had happened rather suddenly- much faster than Draco could have prepared for.
Weasley was quite quick to his feet, and his fist was quite quick to Draco's face. The
stinging pain that shot through his nasal area was nothing compared to the utterly
disgusting feeling of his own blood gushing down the front of his face and over his lips
and chin. Draco instinctively reached up to grab his bloodied nose, but it hurt dreadfully
just to touch it. He saw Potter get up and out of the way of the rapidly flowing blood
behind him, and he saw Weasley's little sister jump up and run over to grab her brother's
arm to prevent him from committing a murder.

"Yes!" screamed the Mudblood Dean Thomas. "Get him again!"

"Ron, no!" shrieked the little Weasley bitch, frantically tugging at his arm.

Draco could hear all of this as well as the gasps and numerous cheers from the other
tables, but he really couldn't concentrate on that.

This pain was real. He felt as though his whole head were about to split in half. He
couldn't fight back with his fists; he couldn't even fight back with words, and his extensive
vocabulary was one of the things he prided himself on. He couldn't do anything except
gasp
as the pain grew and grew and grew.

He distinctly heard Potter tell Weasley to hit him again, along with similar commandments
from various other Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs. He wondered briefly where
the bloody Slytherins were. Why the fuck hadn't Crabbe and Goyle come over and
mangled Weasley into the same bloody pulp that Draco himself was in?

He glanced briefly at Weasley who was absolutely fuming with hatred. Draco silently
thanked the little redheaded brat that was holding him back with her desperate pleas. He
was sure that if the sister hadn't been there, Weasley would have succeeded in killing him
right there on the spot.

After what seemed like hours of incomprehensible pain, embarrassment, and confusion,
Draco became aware of a loud pair of shoes clunking themselves in their direction. He
saw McGonagall hurrying toward the scene, an absolute murderous look on her face.

All hell was about to break loose.

McGonagall hurriedly pulled the smaller Weasley away from her brother's arm and sent
her back to her place with the other sixth year Gryffindors. She had then taken her place
and grabbed Weasley's arm roughly, jerking him to look at her.

"If you are quite finished, Mr. Weasley!" she said angrily.

Weasley didn't say a word. His face was still flushed with anger, but he obviously knew
better than to be smart with his head of house. He just looked past her at nothing.

"I am utterly disgusted! I am so incredibly sick of this!" McGonagall was on a roll now.
"I would like to think that the two of you had grown up a bit since you first entered this
school with fighting on your minds, but obviously I was completely wrong!" She turned
her attention briefly to Draco, who wondered if McGonagall was too blind to see that
he had not been fighting at all. "Absolutely childish and ridiculous! You should both be
ashamed of yourselves! You are not first years anymore; you are seventh years! What
kind of an example is this?"

Draco sighed, not wanting to listen to anymore of the stupid bat's blabbering. He thought
it a good thing that he really couldn't concentrate on anything due to the unfaltering pain in
his head; if he had been fully aware of his thoughts, he might have told the bloody bitch
exactly where she could shove that damn hat that always sat so unflatteringly upon her
ugly head. Thankfully, he was in too much pain to run his mouth.

Weasley, too, was keeping his trap shut while the bitch blabbered on and on about what
disgraces they were and how immature they were. Finally, after what seemed like hours
more of her yelling, she pointed a finger at Draco. "Get yourself to the infirmary, Malfoy."
She let go of Weasley's arm rather roughly and said, "And Weasley, you follow me."

With that, she stalked out of the room like the high and mighty queen she fancied herself
to be. Weasley turned to Draco only briefly and said quite calmly, "Don't you ever talk to
any of us again, or I really will kill you." Then he turned and followed the teacher out of
the Great Hall to the sounds of all his admirers' cheers.

Draco glared after him. By "any of us," he could only assume that the bastard had been
referring to himself, Potter, and Granger. Oh, he was horribly mistaken if he thought his
threat was going to work.

He was going to talk to them again, and he was going to do much, much worse.
 
 
 

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this chapter as well. Please leave me feedback!!!
 

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Chapter 11