Index of Stories

2006-12-11T10:48:44Z

Story Index

The Devil is in the Details
Summary: On details concerning Draco Malfoy and her daughter, Hermione told the truth...just not all of it.
Chapters: 15/?? (posting only 15 & on chapters on LJ.
Status: WIP
Most Recent Chapter: Chapter 15-Correspondences

The Devil is in the Details Chapter Index

Coloured Grey
Summary:
Chapters: 01/??
Status: WIP
Most Recent Chapter: Chapter 1-In the Right Hands

Chapter 1-In the Right Hands

2006-12-11T10:41:52Z

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is JKR’s.

Coloured Grey

Chapter 1-Into the Right Hands

Chapter summary: Draco runs into Hermione in Diagon Alley, and enchants her diary to make it two way.

Story Summary: Draco Malfoy is sent on a mission to win Hermione’s love and learn her secrets. He charms her diary to make it two way. Anonymously, under the guise of a tortured soul, he corresponds with Hermione. Draco thinks he has her dangling on his string, when he realizes that he’s not the puppeteer, he just another puppet.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

It his said that actions speak louder than words. In his case, Draco Malfoy found it to be actions tell more than words. More could be learnt from actions than ever from words. Dialogue could be controlled and conditioned. Body language couldn’t. But usually, reading body language was better used in face to face situations. And after trailing mudblood Granger for a few hours, all he had learnt from her body language was that she didn’t like the goblins at Gringotts. And in reality, who did? After a fruitless trailing, he decided to strike before she left for her muggleness.

And of course, she was finally heading into the opportune store, Flourish and Blotts, which was basically what he had been waiting for all day.

As he discreetly watched Granger enter the store, Draco Malfoy realized that he was fidgeting with his cuff. He immediately dropped his hand. He could not show signs of nervousness. He couldn’t let nerves ruin this simple, simple task.

-flashback-
The Dark Lord drummed his long, spindly fingers on the table whilst his red eyes concocted ideas maliciously, revealing nothing. After a long silence, he spoke again, “So…Potter and this mudblood girl-er…”
“Granger.” replied Draco promptly, “Hermione Granger.”
“Yes, mudblood Granger. How close are the two? Are they in love?”
“Granger, Weasley and Potter are a trio.” he spoke bitterly, “ ‘best friends for life’; ‘you jump, I jump’; ‘I would die for you’, those kinda friends. I’m pretty sure the Mudblood and Blood Traitor have something going on, but Potter and Granger are purely platonic.
“So, tell me about her.”
“What’s there to tell? She’s a bookworm, teacher’s pet, annoyingly arrogant, an activist for house-elves, buck-toothed and owns a ball of tumbleweed for hair.” As an afterthough, he added, “She’s plain. Incredibly plain.”
In actual fact, not all of those points were true. Although they may’ve been in first year. After a spell shooting incident some year, her two rabbit like front teeth had been shrunken, much to the displeasure of Pansy Parkinson, who had ranted and raved on for days after. And her hair…It was like most people’s. Sometimes it was frizzier than normal. She had her bad hair days and her good hair days. But sometime between the end of 6th year and 2 weeks into summer, she had received a much needed haircut that stopped her hair growing out in that spectacular triangular fashion. He suspected it was for Weasley.

“Learn her secrets. And we’ll use it against her and Potter.” whispered The Dark Lord faintly. He was slightly out of the conversation, meaning that he was hatching a plan, “A girl like her probably keeps a diary, and we’ll Vanish pages of her diary, so she’ll need to buy a new one. Yes, Yes. I’ll post men outside her house, notify you of when she leaves the house to Diagon Alley. When she buys a new diary, I’ll teach you a spell to cast on it that makes it a two way diary to one I’ll give you. You’ll write a few entries in the diary that’ll only appear when she arrives home. Then, when she finishes reading, the book will let you know, you’ll write another entry, prompting her to realize that there’s something more. Adopt the guise of a tortured soul. An artist without a muse. A suffering being. Write entries with that persona. Remain anonymous, all she should know about you is that you attend Hogwarts.”
“So…I write things like, ‘everyone hates me. why go on with life, etc?”
“Only more subtly and eloquently, like, ‘day by day, my fragile spirit is being crushed.’ Things like that. Get her to trust you, slip out secrets, use imagery and deep thoughts to bring out her maternal instincts, her want to help you. And slowly, you’ll find out secrets about her and Potter.”
“Sure. Is there going to be a time limit?”
“From what I’ve learnt about her from you and others, she’s a tough one to crack. Take your time. It will be worth it in the end.”
-end of flashback-

“Yes.” he whispered to himself, “It’ll be worth it in the end. Don’t rush it. Cool, calm, indifferent and collected.” Draco removed his fidgeting hand once again and confidently strided into Flourish and Blotts.

Draco spotted her and silently walked over to Hermione. She was looking at some gold trimmed diaries, comparing them with the more simple, black bound ones. After waiting another moment, Malfoy decided to make his movie. He breathed over her shoulder and into her ear, “Hello Granger…”

She immediately dropped the diaries and turned around in shock. When she laid eyes on his face, the expression of shock quickly turned to hate and iciness. “Hello.” she replied stiffly.
Draco smirked, “It’s normally a formality to say ‘nice to see you’, but we’ll let that drop today, since we both know that I’d be lying.”
“Pardon me, but you've obviously mistaken me for someone who gives a damn.” she retorted, beginning to walk away, “I don’t have time for your mind games”.
Malfoy chose to ignore that, “So where are your henchmen, Scarhead and Weaselbee?” He mockingly looked around.
She stopped and turned around,“Judging from the saying, "What you don't know can't hurt you," you’re practically invulnerable, Malfoy. I am perfectly able to lead a life of my own. And for the henchmen part, I can fight my own battles, Malfoy. I don’t need henchman.” she spat, “I think you’ve had first hand experience of that.” She was referring to the slapping incident in 3rd year. “Which leads me to the question. Where are your clones, Crabbe and Goyle? You’re not usually seen without the two to hide behind.”
“I’ll take that in stride.” he smirked, “I mean, I suppose you’re still bitter about the Weasley thing.”
“What Weasley thing?”
“How you’re obviously and jealously in love with him.”
Hermione’s cheeks turned just that little bit pinker.
“No…No I don’t. We’re purely platonic.” She replied a little too forcefully.
“Is that what you tell yourself at night? When you cry yourself to sleep?” he whispered viciously. In a contemptuous tone, he mock cried, “Oh, Weasley never notices me. I try so hard. But he just won’t. I tried to be smart. Help him with his work. So that he would be impressed with my smarts. But he isn’t. Tried with my looks. Did my hair nicely in 4th year. Cut my hair prettily recently. He’s not impressed by my looks, either. Blah blah blah. Stuff like that, right? Pining for someone who won’t even look twice at you.”
“You don’t know the first thing about me, Malfoy.” Hermione felt dangerously close to tears.
“I know a million and one things.” he replied, “I just don’t know which is first.”
“Oh really?” she whispered. Anything louder and her voice might just crack from the pressure of holding in tears, “Tell me.”
“You read lots of books-”
“Everyone knows that.” she countered.
He continued, as if she didn’t interrupt, “You read lots of books, not to be the smartest in the class, but to prove yourself. Prove that you’re something, someone. If you don’t study extra and learn the syllabus before everyone, you won’t be top of the class, every class, and people like me would be saying, ‘Of course, she’s a mudblood, what would you expect.’ You don’t want your birth to be an issue. And to be equal, you have to be best.

“But you’re also confronted with the fact that being so smart gives you the stigma of being a bookworm. A boring, one-sided bookworm. You’re in a lose lose situation, you prefer the stigma of bookworm to ignorant mudblood.”

For the first time, Hermione was silent.

“Shall I continue?” And without waiting for a reply, he did so anyway, “You parade around school with Potter and Weasley like you’re a trio, but you know that it’s more of a duo, and you’re the third wheel.” He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. “When you try to help them with their homework and such, they get annoyed, but after not heeding your advice, when it’s too late, they ask for your help. Now, you’re not annoying and nosy. And, being a good friend, you have to help them. Either way, you’re the loser and they’re the winners. They’re fair-weather to an extent.”

Feeling the awkwardness, realizing that Granger could burst into tears soon, meaning that she wouldn’t feel like buying anything, Draco slowly picked up the fallen diaries off the floor and handed her the plain black one, “If I were you, heaven forbid, I would choose the black one. It’s simple, and the less flashy, the less likely to tempt prying eyes.”
“T…Thanks.” she whispered dumbly.
“Welcome.” Then, Malfoy arrogantly turned his back and walked out without another word. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw her take the diary to the counter, with it balancing on top of at least half a dozen books, “Done.” he whispered to himself. The first hard part was over. The second part? To convince her to trust him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hermione sat down on her bed and grabbed her new diary. From her desk, she collected a pot of ink and a quill. As she flipped open the diary, about to write an entry about the strange encounter with Malfoy, she saw something that she had not seen before, a page of writing. And it wasn’t a foreword. “How tacky.” she muttered. As she flipped through her diary, she saw the same black scrawly writing over the next few pages. She shrugged and began to read.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hermione found herself moved by the poem and spent the next few minutes sitting, just sitting on her bed, thinking about thinking. She suddenly felt so connected with the reluctant poet. Sexist as though he was, Hermione felt something, almost love, for this anonymous person that had left their diary in Flourish and Blotts. Breaking free from her daze, she kept reading, entranced.

Draco flicked through his new diary and admired his handiwork. This persona of his, the ‘artist without a muse’, the ‘tortured soul’ was completely believable. It was time to start phase 2: writing entries whilst she was reading them.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

It had been 3 days since Hermione had found the diary, and she still found herself reaching out for it whenever she had a spare moment. She felt she had found a companion. A kindling spirit. He was a little darker than her, but she could relate to this unsure boy who was about to become a man. His last entry was 4 simple sentences, but Hermione almost cried. It explained everything that she was going through leading up to 7th year.

The fears of stepping out, being independent, after so many years of shelter. She felt like a little bird. Being pushed out of the nest. Forced to fly. But she knew that she would soar.

As Hermione enjoyed the silence of her home, she sat down in her favourite armchair and read the diary again. From the inspiration of the poems, she picked up her quill and flipped to a new page, immersing the quill completely in thick ink. But this time, she saw something strange. A new entry. And words were popping up each second. Her body was frozen.

And so began their correspondences.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

And Hermione found that she did not need to buy a new diary. This person was just like a diary. Someone she was completely unafraid to confide in. Someone that she knew wouldn’t judge her.
She had spent many nights tossing and turning, wondering who this person was. A boy who was afraid to become a man. Tolerant, funny, witty and bright, and unexpectedly dark and secretive.

And most days, he wrote poems. She loved when he wrote poems. To go through his thinking path with him, to see the words he crossed out, feeling him reconsider and sometimes, timidly, suggesting words to go in place.

As 1/3 of the summer drifted by, Hermione found a want to help this poor soul. To rescue him. The reason that every girl likes bad boys; to help them; to change them. And Hermione was falling faster than she ever had. For a boy with a tortured soul, a helpless mother and an abusive father. Hermione wondered if she would like him half as much without his family issues. She wondered if it was her nuture complex, her maternal instinct, but when she talked to him, she knew that she would like him anyway.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hermione was excited. It had been 1 month since she had seen her best friends, Harry and Ron. But, yet again, for the 50th year running, they had forgotten their promise and hadn’t written to her. They were together at the Burrow, and had completely forgotten about her. As she sat alone at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, her mind drifted to what Malfoy had said. About the trio but actually a duo thing. She hated that he didn’t need to be there to get under her skin. He always did that. As she demurely fingered through the diary, sipping from her coffee, she chucked occasionally and cracked a few smiles.

Suddenly, a shadow came over her. She looked up. Malfoy. Speak of the devil. He smirked at her and sat down. “Seat taken?”
“For you, always.” replied Hermione, going back to the diary.
Malfoy waved his hand around nonchalantly and a waiter promptly arrived, “Coffee, please. Black.” When he didn’t show any signs of leaving, she glared at him, “Want something?”
“Just seeing how my good friend is going.” he flicked his hair, “Is that such a crime?”
“Considering the fact that we’re most definitely not friends-”
“Expecting someone?” he cut in. The coffee arrived and he sipped. Slowly, watching her with a smirk.
“As a matter of fact, yes, so you better clear off.”
“Who?” he asked, knowing full well how much Hermione resented his mere presence.
“Ron and Harry.” she replied, returning to the diary.
“Oh, that’s funny.”
“Why?”
“Well, as you so eloquently wanted me to, I’ll clear off now.”
“Leaving so soon?” Hermione said with a fake smile, “I was just about to poison your coffee.”
He sat back down, as arrogantly as one could, “You’re a funny one, Granger.”
“And anyway, why is it funny that I’m meeting Ron and Harry.” asked Hermione stonily.
“Well, I bumped into them at ‘Quality Quidditch Supplies’ just a few minutes ago. They seemed thoroughly absorbed by the Firebolt 3000.”
Hermione looked at her watch angrily, “What?” she yelled. “They’re late half and hour. Drooling over some broom.”
“It’s not some broom.” pointed out Malfoy, but he quickly shut up when given a glare from Hermione. She picked up her bag and threw 5 knuts onto the table. “You have the table, and when Harry and Ron finally come, feel free to hex them!” And without another word, she stormed off.
“PMS?” he yelled after her, chuckling.

As she walked angrily, grinding her teeth to the exit, Ginny ran up to her, “Wassup, Herm?”
“Your twit of a brother and idiot of a boyfriend stood me up. They’re drooling over the Firebolt 3000. Can you-”
“They put up the display for the Firebolt up already?” And without waiting for an answer, Ginny ran off, disappearing into the crowd in seconds.

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I would really love reviews *hint*

The passage from “squeaking swings…to…summer skin” is taken from the song, “Summer Skin” by Death Cab.

AND...i know that the parchment sheets didn't fit and it looked gross. but on my other journal, the thing stretches, but i guess with the sidebar...but...next time, i'll make the parchment fit :D