Losing Control

Disclaimer: I am not J.K.R. and do not make any sort of profit from playing with her characters other than the enjoyment it brings me...and the reviews.

Thanks go to Southern_Witch_69 for beta reading.

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully for Draco. Every time he saw Hermione, she looked like she had a fire burning inside her. She stormed about the castle with an attitude that plainly dared someone to get in her way. Draco had a feeling there was more going on with her than just the hatred she obviously felt towards him...not that he cared.

"So, where did you disappear to during breakfast?" asked Blaise casually over dinner.

"That's none of your business, Zabini," Draco replied conversationally.

"You just sort of... jumped out of your seat. It looked like you'd been bitten by something."

"Sod off," Draco said, scowling.

"God, Draco, what's with you? I'm was just asking..." Blaise muttered, obviously offended. Even Draco wasn't usually this rude.

"Well, don't," he said.

"Fine..." Blaise said with a sigh. "Well, at any rate, when are you going to call a Prefects' meeting? We all figured we'd meet at least once before classes started, but you never said anything."

Draco groaned. He'd completely forgotten. It annoyed him very much that the fact that he was Head Boy could slip his mind even for a second. It was all Granger's fault, he thought furiously. If she hadn't been... If she hadn't...wasn't... He sighed. Despising her was taking a lot of energy. He needed to think about his duties...but, like everything else, that led back to Granger. Calling a meeting with the Prefects was mandatory, but it would mean he had to speak to her, work with her.

"Oh," Blaise said...he had just been handed a slip of paper by a hurried-looking fourth year..."looks like Granger beat you to it."

"What?" Draco hissed, yanking the paper out of Blaise's hands.

The first Prefects' meeting of this year will be held in classroom twenty-four tomorrow at 8:30 P.M.

Head Girl

She'd even signed her bloody middle initial. Who the fuck did she think she was?

That is it.

Draco shoved the bench back violently and marched over to the Gryffindor table, fuming.

"––Yeah, that's what I was thinking," Hermione was saying to Ginny Weasley. "I just don't know how to put it into wor––"

"Granger!" growled Draco.

"Sod off, Malfoy," she said coldly, not even looking up. She pressed on with her conversation, ignoring him completely. "––Into words. I don't even know how to sort it all––"

This was going to end...now.

"Get up, Granger," Draco ordered maliciously, rolling his eyes, barely stopping himself from reaching forward a yanking her up by the collar.

He didn't have to. Hermione pursed her lips and got up from the table silently. Without a word, she walked out into the corridor. He followed her, and she turned to face him when they were out of earshot from the rest of the school's population.

"What do you want, Ferret Boy?" she said, her tone frosty and her arms crossed.

"Clever," he said with a sneer. "That's two for you today. Should I be writing them down?" He glowered snidely at her and went on. "You called a Prefects' meeting...without consulting me."

"So?" she said. "What's the problem?"

"The problem, Granger," he said through gritted teeth, "is that I'm Head Boy."

"Yes, that is a problem, isn't it?" she said with a smirk.

"Listen, you––"

"Oh, come on, Malfoy. What's the big deal? I would have thought it would be a load off your shoulders." There was an annoying smile playing around her mouth.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he spat.

She tapped her foot impatiently. "It means you don't have to worry your little head about it. It means that you get to go off and play with your friends. Don't worry, Malfoy. I wasn't going to actually make you do any work. Truth be told, I wasn't expecting much from you at all. Really, all you have to do is show up and look pretty." Her tone was so condescending it was making him actually see red.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Fuck you, Granger." She was mocking him, treating him like a child. He wanted to choke her with her own bushy hair. "I can handle ten times what you can."

"Uh huh, that'll be the pureblood in you, I suppose," she said dryly. "It must give you strength the likes of which the rest of us can only dream. Tell me; what's it like to be superhuman, Malfoy? Do you think if I had blood like yours, I could get my head to blow up as big as yours has? Such power..." she said in mock awe, "I can only imagine."

He breathed in through his nose, more livid than ever.

"Listen, you bitch. If you think I'm going to just 'sit this one out,' you are sorely mistaken. I've been waiting for this for a long time, and there is no way in hell I'm going to let you elbow me out."

Hermione sighed. "Fine. You do whatever you want," she said, humoring him. "You can do as much as you like. But, Malfoy, if it gets to be too much for you to handle or, Merlin forbid, your superhuman, pureblood strength fails you, you be sure to let me know, and I'll take care of it." Her voice was dripping in mock concern. He wanted to choke her.

She gave him one final condescending smirk before turning and walking back into the Great Hall, leaving him, once again, to glare at her head and wish her a most painful death.

abababababab

She hated him. She hated him so much it made her blood boil to look at him. He opened his mouth, and she wanted to shove the largest, most foul tasting object she could think of down his throat to shut him up. Although, she had to admit, making fun of him and watching his face contort in fury was amazingly satisfying.

A part of her felt slightly guilty. As much as she detested him, she knew she was taking her frustration of her situation with Ron out on Malfoy. That was not something she felt good about doing. It was immature and mean, but it was easy. And he did deserve it. He was an arrogant, bigoted prick.

Any confusion she had felt about her feelings toward him had been erased this morning when he'd called her an ugly, Mudblood slag. It was typical Malfoy; she should have expected it. She hadn't been happy about partnering with him in Transfiguration simply because she hadn't wanted to deal with him on top of what was happening with Ron, but when he'd opened his mouth and verbally attacked her for no other reason than to get her angry, she'd had enough. Draco Malfoy was never going to change, and she wasn't go to waste any time or energy holding her breath.

She slid back into her seat and began to pick up where she had left off in her conversation with Ginny, as though nothing had happened.

"Er, what was that about?" Ginny asked.

"Nothing. Just Malfoy being Malfoy. I took care of it."

"Oh, okay," Ginny said, shrugging her shoulders. "So, anyway..."

Hermione had expected Ginny to be angry with her when she told her about what had happened with Ron, but surprisingly she had been very understanding. It felt good to know she had at least one friend in the Weasley family.

"Where is he anyway?" she asked. "I haven't seen him since... you know. Have you talked to him?"

"Not really. I saw him after classes in the common room. He was just sort of sitting there staring at nothing. I asked him what was wrong, and he said he didn't want to talk about it. I asked Harry if he knew, and he said I should just ask you. So I figured something must have happened."

Hermione sighed. "I've really hurt him, Ginny," she said sadly. "I don't know how we'll be friends after this. At least, not the way we always have been."

"Hermione," Ginny said, shaking her head patiently, "Ron loves you."

Hermione dropped her eyes, feeling guilty.

"No. I mean...what Ron feels for you goes deeper than all this. It's not just romance. His romantic feelings for you come and go. They probably always will. But underneath all that, he loves you like he loves me...as a friend and as a sister. He knows you. He'd do anything for you just because you're you," Ginny explained. "This could never be the end of your friendship. You guys, the three of you, have been through everything together. Nothing will change that. Ron just needs time to realize it."

Hermione sighed again and nodded her head. "I know. You're right, and you know I love him, too...just... not the way he wants me to."

"He doesn't know what he wants," Ginny said. "Just give him time. This will blow over."

"I hope you're right..." Hermione muttered.

"She is right," said Harry from beside her. "We're family, Hermione." Hermione turned to him, startled. She hadn't even been aware he was listening.

Hermione smiled at him in a sad but hopeful way. He scooted closer to her in an attempt to put a comforting arm around her, and she let him, wrapping her arms around him in a friendly hug. He was right. They were both right. They were family. Maybe that was why it was hurting so much. She felt herself begin to cry again. She felt stupid and began to pull away from Harry, but he put his arms around her and pulled her tighter against him, letting her cry. She just let it all out...right there in the middle of the Great Hall, not noticing or caring who was watching. A few minutes later, Harry's shirt was soaked, but she felt a lot better.

"I'm sorry, Harry..." she muttered sheepishly.

"Don't be," he said. "I'll always be here for you, you know."

"I will, too," said Ginny. "We both will, and I know Ron will, too."

Hermione smiled warmly, wiping her eyes and sniffling. "Thanks," she whispered.

She was lucky to have such friends, and she knew it.

abababababab

Draco stood there in the hall, brooding for a while, then finally decided that he was hungry and that the bitch they had the nerve to call "Head Girl" wasn't going to stop him from finishing his meal. He could picture it now... Granger, sitting at her table, having a good laugh at his expense with her wonderful posse. She was probably recounting each little thing she'd said to him, entertaining the whole Gryffindor table.

Well, no matter. She could say whatever she wanted. She'd get hers eventually. He strode forward and pushed open the doors swiftly, glancing, to confirm his suspicions, at the Gryffindor table.

Oh, for Fuck's sake!

Granger was sitting there all right, but she wasn't regaling her House with her cleverness; she was sobbing on Harry-goddamned-Potter's shoulder. They had their arms wrapped around each other like they were holding on for dear life. Ginny Weasley was watching them and smiling. What was wrong with her? What kind of moron would be smiling at their boyfriend winding himself like a spider monkey around another girl? What the hell was wrong with all of them? And where was Weasley? Shouldn't he be here to join in on the love? Something about the way she and Potter were holding each other was making his blood boil.

First Weasley, now Potter?

Draco felt absolutely sick now. Any appetite he'd had was gone. He turned and walked in the other direction as quickly as possible. Before long, he was back in his common room, pacing back and forth, fuming.

What business did Granger have blubbering all over the place like that, showing weakness? As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't say the things he wanted to say to her while she was crying.

He couldn't stop it from playing in his head, over and over again: her eyes shut tightly in pain, her face soaked in tears, her body shaking against Potter's body... She trusted Potter. Nobody had ever trusted Draco that way, and he'd never trusted anyone else. If he'd ever tried to hug his father like that, he would have gotten backhanded and called a ponce. The kind of trust it would take for a person to literally put their self in someone's arms... Nobody deserved that kind of trust, he thought, not even Saint Potter.

Draco wondered bitterly what it would be like to have someone trust him with his or her life...to have someone trust him enough to sob on his shoulder, to lay himself bare before him. It would never happen, and he didn't want it to, he thought. Too much baggage involved.

He sat down in the winged-back chair he'd used throughout the week and rubbed his temples.

He'd learned a long time ago that showing his pain to another person only brought more pain, that people will use whatever weapon another person gives them. He didn't like feeling. He didn't like to feel raw. It meant he was weak and that he was opening himself up for an attack from someone who would use his weakness against him. He hated feeling out of control, and that was what showing emotion was...giving up control, giving it to someone else.

He hated Hermione for being able to show emotion and still be in control, for having friends who didn't use her feelings against her, didn't think about what way they could be used to their best advantage. It was something he'd never learned or had for himself...friends like that. He hated her for being whole while he was broken and empty. He hated her for trusting other people, something he just couldn't do.

Draco finally sat down and stared ahead. The light in the room was dimming as the sun went down, but he didn't move. He just looked ahead, remembering things he didn't want to remember, lessons he'd learned the hard way. After some time, his thoughts cleared enough for him to notice how dark the room had become. He reached over and flipped on the lamp. He watched as the flame grew until the room was glowing again.

He looked to the side and saw Hermione's book, Dune. He stared at it for a long time, having a silent battle with it.

He was about to give into temptation when the portrait swung open and Granger climbed through. He looked at her, and it was still obvious she'd been crying, though she no longer was.

"What's the matter, Granger?" he taunted. "Wrong time of the month?"

Her nostrils flared as she stalked by him to go to her room, but she didn't answer.

"It must be," he went on, rising out of his chair. "Why else would Little Miss Perfect break down in front of the whole school?"

Her hand was on the doorknob when he reached her, looming above her and holding her door closed with a strong arm.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy," she said. "I believe I told you to stay out of my way."

"I'm talking to you," he said with a mocking sneer. "Didn't your filthy mother teach you any manners?"

She turned around and pushed hard against his chest to get him out of her way. "Is that supposed to be an insult, Malfoy? You don't know anything about me, so calling my mother filthy and assuming things about my upbringing only shows you to be bigoted and ignorant."

"Oh, but I know plenty about you," he said, leaning back against the wall as though she'd never pushed him.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, and do you know I'm beginning to think you're mental as well as filthy?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'd ask how you came to that conclusion, but I really don't care." She made to open her door again, but he interrupted her once more.

"I think you do care, and it's quite simple. This morning, the entire school saw you sucking face with Weasley, and then half an hour later, you walk into Transfiguration in tears. Oh, yes, I saw that. You sniveling all over the place is hard to miss. Then, at dinner, you leave me in the hall, and I walk back in two minutes later to see you sobbing all over Potter's shoulder...with no Weasel in sight... accept for Potter's girlfriend, who apparently doesn't have a problem with sharing her boyfriend with you.

"They have potions for people like you, Granger."

"Are you quite finished?" she asked, her eyes narrowed in distaste.

He gave her a nasty smirk in return.

"Good. I've got work to do, and then I'm going to bed. Why I was crying is none of your business, and even if it were, I wouldn't expect you to understand. And for your information, Ginny Weasley is a very good friend to me, as is Harry, and no, she doesn't have a problem with Harry giving me his support. Why would she? That's what friends are for. If we need a potion for being crazy, so be it. I wouldn't give up my friends for anything."

Her tone was firm and unyielding as she finished. "Goodnight, Malfoy. I sincerely hope I don't have to put a hex on my door to keep you out. And if you are as capable of pulling your weight as you claim to be, you'd better be ready for the Prefects' meeting tomorrow night."

Without further ado, she entered her bedroom and closed the door softly behind her. Draco was left to stare at the floor and to try, in vain, not to think about what she'd said.

That's what friends are for.

Not his friends. If he cried in front of them...not that he ever really cried...they would never let him forget it, let alone lend any sort of support...

Granger had something very rare, and Draco wondered if she even knew it.

Hours later, he left the study in favor of getting some sleep, only to lie there restlessly for more hours and finally fall into fitful dreams of things he would have been happy to forget forever.

SB's Notes: This chapter took a lot more revising than the last ones; that's why it took so long. Thanks for being patient, and I'll have the next up in a few days!