Sticks & Stones by mgle_teacher
Summary: Hermione finally realizes Harry was right about Draco all along.
Categories: Dark/Angsty Fics Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 2010 Read: 2859 Published: 10/13/10 Updated: 10/13/10
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work of fiction is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.

Beta Readers: Gmariam from LJ/MNFF – Thanks for the feedback and being such a Comma Nazi.

Author Notes: This is a canon "missing moment" from Half-Blood Prince. It doesn't have a happy ending, and it's definitely one of those "what if" scenarios. I actually researched quite a bit and re-read part of HBP in order to make it work. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

1. One-Shot by mgle_teacher

One-Shot by mgle_teacher
Author's Notes:
Story was written for H&V 2010 Reverse Challenge Phase 2
Story inspired by Midnight Potion Experiment by Honey-Bee
View and review full art:
On H&V
"I can't believe I have detention!" Hermione spat angrily, as she vigorously stirred the cauldron sloshing some of the brew dangerously around the edges. She glared at Malfoy who was sitting at the worktable next to hers, smirking to himself at her misfortune while consulting an old text as he worked on his own potion.

"I haven't had detention since first year, Malfoy! And it's all your fault!" She finished, violently pointing the ladle at him, splattering a bit of the potion onto his robes.

"Oi! Watch the robes, Granger! They are made from very expensive and fine Merino wool; not a textile you'd be familiar with, would you now?" Draco sneered as he carefully cast a Cleaning Charm on his robes.

"Besides, I fail to see how it's my fault you received detention, Granger. You were the one who blew up Weasel and Potty's cauldron during class before the holidays. Was it perhaps because of the scandalous affair between the Weasel and the resident Gryffindor slut? Does the Weaselbee not return your feelings? Poor Granger, not even a blood-traitor like Weasley wants to tie himself down to someone as dirty as you." He smirked at her before continuing. "Or perhaps, it's the fact that Potter keeps outscoring you in Potions. You have to admit that up until now, the only real competition in Potions was between you and me. It's almost as if Potter were cheating. Does that anger your Gryffindor sensibilities?"

"Shut it, Malfoy! What do you know about feelings anyway? Or are you still licking your wounds over the fact that you weren't invited to be part of the Slug Club?" Hermione mocked him.

"As if I'd want to associate with Mudbloods and blood-traitors," Draco replied coldly, staring her down in challenge. However, Hermione couldn't help herself.

"Oh? I think you're jealous, and you can't take it that we're better than you!"

"You don't know what I can or can't take, Granger!" Draco huffed angrily, his fists clenched tightly; one hand firmly clutched his wand. Hermione stared at him in challenge.

"Are you going to hex me now, Malfoy?" she taunted him.

"I don't take orders from the likes of you, Mudblood," Draco snapped, returning to his work. "Besides, if I were you, I'd watch my back; you never know who's lurking in the shadows, or the dangers you might find in the hallways at night."

"Is that a threat, Malfoy?" Hermione demanded as she felt her cheeks tinge pink. They stared at each other with hate and displaced anger before Draco sneered:

"A promise."

***


Hermione finished an hour later, after having successfully brewed the Blood Replenishing potion Slughorn had set for her to do during detention. Unlike Snape, who made everyone clean up cauldrons, Slughorn had his more talented students brew extra potions for the hospital wing in punishment.

After her confrontation with Malfoy, Hermione was a bit shook up and was glad when Professor Slughorn came in to check on their progress, breaking up the tension in the room. She did note that Professor Slughorn kept hovering over Malfoy's work, as the Slytherin scowled in irritation at the prodding questions from the older man. Eventually, Hermione finished her potion, cleaned up, and left.

Malfoy stayed behind, claiming he was in the process of cleaning up while setting a Stasis spell on his cauldron. She had spied some lacewings flies and Boomslang amongst the ingredients on his worktable as she walked out, and she suspected that he was brewing Polyjuice potion. However, she had overheard Professor Slughorn commend Malfoy for his extra-curricular potions project several times, to which Malfoy had continuously replied, "It's nothing but some midnight experimentation with ingredients."

Hermione considered telling Harry about the ingredients and Malfoy's threat, but decided that she didn't need to encourage his already unhealthy obsession with Malfoy. As she rounded a corner near the entrance of the dungeons, Hermione heard another set of footsteps echoing hers a distance away. She stopped and listened for the echo, but only heard her own raspy breath. Quickly, she began to move through the hallway, stopping every so often in order to make sure she wasn't being followed.

She started climbing the steps that led to the seventh floor where Gryffindor Tower was located when she heard the spell – except it was too late.

***


When Hermione came to, she found herself inside what appeared to be at first an old abandoned classroom. It was dark, dank, and smelled of tobacco. She felt groggy and, when she tried to move, found she was tied to a chair. Slightly panicked, Hermione looked for any clues or even a way to escape, but it was too dark. The candles weren't lit in the classroom, and all she could make out were the vague outlines of desks and chairs.

Suddenly, a movement to the left caught her eye and she turned her heard quickly, giving herself a wrick.

"Oh!" she muttered softly to herself, closing her eyes due to the pain. She held still, waiting for most of the stiffness to pass before she dared to look in the direction of the window. As she lifted her eyesight, Hermione scowled at the image that met her eyes: sitting on the window-ledge, smoking a fag, was Draco Malfoy. He met her eyes with a sneer, took one last drag of the cigarette, and flicked the still red-hot butt out the window.

The silence stretched between them, and even though Hermione wanted to scream for help, she knew no one would come to her rescue. The castle was empty due to the holidays. Both Ron and Harry were at the Burrow, and she had stayed behind; she had wanted to join them in the winter festivities, but felt betrayed by Harry's use of the Half-Blood Prince's Potions text, and Ron snogging Lavender all over the common room. It seemed a bit trivial, but Harry using the Half-Blood Prince's textbook had been just as Malfoy suspected, the main reason for her and Harry's rivalry. Of course, the fact that she thought Ron would finally see her as more than a friend had played into her final decision. It stung that Ron chose Lavender over her, and Hermione wasn't ready to forgive him yet; especially not after the disgusting display he and Lav-Lav had partaken in while Harry wished her a happy Christmas and claimed to have some very important news the day they left.

Finally, Malfoy stood up, smoothed down his robes, and reached for another cigarette from inside his pocket. Hermione was surprised to see a pack of Sobranie Black Russians, and observed as he placed the edge of the filter on his lips, lighting the tobacco rod with the tip of his wand. Malfoy inhaled deeply, and waited a beat before blowing out rings. Hermione watched them float away and dissipate into the cold night, wondering what Malfoy was exactly planning to do with her.

"You know," Draco finally began, after observing her calculate his every move. "I may not care for Muggles or Mudbloods, but there's one thing I do appreciate about them – their fine tobacco products."

"That's a bit hypocritical of you, don't you think? Killing Muggles and Mudbloods but still enjoying their consumer goods."

"No. I don't," he replied. "You don't know anything about me, Granger. You and your friends claim to be on the 'right side,' but the world isn't black and white, as you Gryffindors want it to be. It's painted in tones of grey, and not all decisions in life are clear. We don't all fit the molds that are forced onto us."

"What is that supposed to mean, Malfoy?"

"Nothing! Forget I said anything." He turned his back to her, leaning out the window and enjoying the crisp winter air while taking another drag of his cigarette.

"I never took you for a smoker," Hermione finally muttered softly. Draco slowly turned to look at her; he blended into the shadows, and it was almost as if they reached out for him, embracing him with their darkness while the moon outlined his Seeker form. Hermione could only see the cherry burning brightly, but heard his reply.

"Don't start preaching to me about how smoking kills. The bloody Muggle at the shoppe wouldn't sell me any because I'm only sixteen. I had to use the Imperius Curse on him."

Hermione gasped both in surprise and anger. She didn't know whether to be more outraged for the illegal use of magic on a Muggle, or surprised at the fact that Malfoy probably went to Old Bond Street in London in order to purchase a pack.

"I don't particularly care for your health, Malfoy, though they do kill. As I said, I just never took you for a smoker. So why did you pick it up?"

Sighing, Malfoy leaned heavily on the window, answering her cryptically, "Why I picked it up doesn't matter so much as how it helps me right now, Granger." Hermione stared at his back wondering what he meant, and idly considered that he was referring to the side effects of smoking.

"And yet, you didn't answer my question, Malfoy."

He shrugged. "I'm a Slytherin. It's in my nature. Besides, I don't owe you anything."

"You hexed me in the back and tied me to a chair. Do you expect to get away with it?"

"I do." He moved towards her, moving through what Hermione now realized weren't desks and chairs, but a clutter of forgotten items.

"We're in the Room of Requirement," Hermione said, without thinking.

"Five points to Gryffindor," he mockingly replied, aiming his wand at her.

"Why did you hex me?"

"To show you a lesson. As I said, you're not as safe as you think you think you are."

"Were you following me?"

He laughed rather harshly and then stopped, his wand quivering slightly. "No. I was actually on my way up here to try to fix –," he abruptly stopped talking, his eyes trained to the right side of the room. "Let's just say I was minding my own business when I realized I was behind you and took advantage of the opportunity."

Hermione, suspicious by his abrupt speech, followed his line of sight, and finally saw a large black cabinet similar to the one in Borgin and Burkes. Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle began to materialize in her head; Harry had been right all along, and she had waved it off as grief over Sirius' death. Her eyes widened as she realized that this cabinet was the one the Weasley Twins stuffed Montague in the previous year. Paralyzing fear spread through her as she realized Malfoy was planning on providing a way for Death Eaters or Voldemort or possibly both into Hogwarts.

"So you've figured it out, Mudblood?" Draco spoke harshly, moving even closer, standing only a few inches from her. "I always knew you were the brains of the Golden Trio," he spat.

"We can help you! Dumbledore can help you!"

"No, Granger, no one can help me. It's too late!"

"You're wrong, Draco, Harr-" she pleaded, but was cut off by Draco's indignant screech.

"Don't call me Draco!"

"Malfoy! Harry can help you!" she continued, trying to convey with her voice and eyes that he had a choice. A mix of emotions flashed through his grey, and he painfully looked away with a sliver of regret.

"Potter won't help, Granger. He already suspects me. He knows I'm up to no good, and it won't be long before he figures it out."

Swallowing thickly, Hermione met the eyes of the boy before her, and finally saw all the signs that Harry had pointed to her: the lack of sleep, the sunken eyes. Draco was close to a nervous breakdown.

"Don't do it, Malfoy. Don't let them in," she pleaded one last time. He gave her a hard look and seemed almost remorseful. However, he raised his wand and pointed it at her head.

"I don't have a choice anymore, Granger. I never did! Obliviate!"
This story archived at http://www.mugglenetfanfiction.com/viewstory.php?sid=87138