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xknivesandpensx · 1 year

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Like Pieces of a Puzzle

Chapter 1

Summary: What if Harry wasn't the only extra student called upon to participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Far from the most popular candidate, Draco not only has to take on the trials but also deal with his unexpected feelings for Hermione. Will he be able to face the challenges as well as follow his heart?

Chapter length will vary. I'll be referencing both the books and movie versions. Some things from what I've previously written will be mentioned, all of which you can find here.

And for those who asked to be tagged: @dayane245love

The thrashing of wind and pelting of rain against the window died down as the train made its way to Hogwarts. An aspect of which went unnoticed while Hermione kept her brown eyes glued to The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, trying very hard to focus on the words before her.

It wasn’t Harry and Ron’s near obsessive talk of Quidditch preventing her mind from staying on the page. Rather, her thoughts kept drifting to the World Cup, how the Dark Mark appeared in the sky. A bright and vibrant green skull with a snake protruding from its mouth lingered above for all to bear witness.

However awfully constant as the scene plagued her, Hermione couldn’t help thinking back to when they ran into Draco while fleeing the chaos. He stood leaning against a tree, arms crossed in an almost relaxed manner, watching the mess unfold.

His calmness almost threw her. Screams of terror and trampling of feet and yet Draco Malfoy kept a composed disposition. Of course, he caught their attention while tossing a rude comment towards Ron – proving to be just as combative as the previous years.

The shadows of the surrounding foliage obscured much of his features, but one always recognized his bright blond hair and familiar sound of his voice. It deepened a bit, still keeping its boyish tenor.

She recalled a few expressed remarks of warning, saying something along the lines of how they should be hurrying along, insinuating the danger of her being spotted. It surprised her the most that he spoke directly to her, Draco insisting further by stating the fact of them being after Muggles.

Them as in those running about having a bit of fun levitating and scaring innocent people.

He made a joke about it, going on persistently. Far be it for Hermione to mistake his caution for care. It did confuse her though. Why bother saying anything at all?

“That book really can’t be that interesting, can it?” came Ron’s voice, bringing her back to the present. He went on as if she heard his previous statement. “You agree with me, don’t you?”

Hermione straightened her posture. “If it’s about Quidditch then I’m not getting in the middle of it.” She placed her reading material on the opposite side of Crookshanks, the ginger-colored cat curled up next to her.

“He’s still going on about Malfoy, actually,” Harry mentioned, indicating the compartment next to them.

Earlier Draco took it upon himself to come over and comment on the discussion he overheard. Bragging about knowing the big event happening this year. The information of which none of the trio knew.

He took great pleasure in gloating, insulting Ron’s father to top it off.

“You shouldn’t let him get to you, Ron.” Her persistence came with a shake of her head. “Besides, you know he’s doing it on purpose, trying to rile you up. Really, I don’t see the point. His time could certainly be better spent. But he’s just so…”

There were many words capable of leaving her lips. Some she wouldn’t dare utter in front of them. Complicated, for instance. Complex and almost disarmingly engaging. She held a fair number of scruples regarding the latter.

Her qualms seemed rightly placed. While Hermione knew a lot of ambiguity surround Draco, she inwardly yearned to know more about him. Except what was the point?

Things were never going to change between them. She might as well let it (and the picture she painted over the years during their small, yet impactful moments) slip away.

“He’s an annoying git,” Ron supplied, unaware of the reason behind her hesitation. Harry merely nodded along in agreement. Much like usual.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Yes well, if you’re finished reading the paper, Harry, can I see it?” She skimmed the first paragraph, the byline catching her attention. Rita Skeeter, what an excuse for a journalist. “Unbelievable. It’s been days and nothing new about the World Cup. Just more rubbish.”

“It’s not surprising.” Ron tugged at one side of the page to get a better look. “The Ministry can’t give away information they don’t have. Dad’s going to lose it when he reads what she wrote.”

“Your scar’s bothering you again, isn’t it?” Hermione questioned, glancing up to see Harry brushing his forehead. “You already contacted Sirius, maybe you should tell Dumbledore as well. About your dreams too. He’d want to know.”

“It might be nothing.” He shrugged, not overly keen on mulling it over again.

She sighed at his indifference. “Last time you were in pain, You-Know-Who was at our school, remember? He practically lived in Professor Quirrell similar to a parasite. It hurt then. Logically, there must be a reason. And not a good one.”

“You’re not exactly telling me anything new, Hermione. If Voldemort – Sorry, You-Know-Who,” Harry corrected after Ron’s interjection. “If he wants to come at me again, I’d like to see him try. He literally can’t touch me. I’ll be fine.”

Boys and their bravado. False confidence and for what purpose? She and Ron were there. Not during his discussion alongside Quirrell and Voldemort or Harry’s encounter with the sixteen-year-old version of himself placed inside the diary, but every step of the way beforehand.

Harry couldn’t admit his fear. Hermione, in contrast, held no reluctance confessing she was scared for him – worried something terrible might happen.

“He has a point.” Ron shoved his apprehension aside, feeling it yet able to keep it from his face. “For once I’d like to have a normal school year. No three-headed dogs, no massive snakes petrifying students or people pretending to be pets.”

“Don’t forget giant spiders, loads of them,” Harry added matter-of-factly.

“I wish you’d both take this more seriously.” Her chastising received no more than a glance between the boys. “Honestly, the two of you should be a little more concerned. In any case, it’s about time to change into our robes. I’ll leave you to it.”

Hermione slid the compartment door open, letting Crookshanks stretch his legs as he jumped down to follow her into the walkway.

“She left in a bit of a huff, didn’t she? And what for?” Ron slouched in his seat, utterly confused by the fraction of vexation displayed. “Mental, that one, I'm telling you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry uttered, wondering if he should take her advice. Every time danger came his way, Ron and Hermione willingly took on every threat he faced, practically glued to his side. What if he lost one of them or anyone he cared for? Was he worth it?

Hermione intended on finding Ginny. The year age gap between them didn’t prevent them from becoming friends – in fact, she found a level of gratitude in having another girl to speak to, someone to talk to about the things Harry and Ron held no particular interest in.

While she enjoyed spending a good part of the summer at the Weasley’s, her companionship helped ease the days. Ginny’s brothers were a rambunctious bunch, no doubt, but Hermione suspected being the youngest and only sister caused her to feel left out every so often.

And while Ginny moved past the events of her first year, intent on leaving the memories behind her, Hermione became the one person she confided in while nightmares haunted her dreams. They were memories really, of all the things she did while under control.

Of course, she didn’t wish to worry her parents about the matter, so the girls held it between themselves and therefore establishing a deep layer of trust.

From afar, she saw Fred and George speaking to Ginny, smiles lingering on their faces, the twins undoubtedly showing her something Molly would probably disapprove of them bringing along. Another fake wand or some other new thing they snuck aboard.

In a way, she admired their family, all of them so warm and inviting. Hermione loved her parents, indisputably, but she grew up an only child and certainly ignored by most classmates prior to Hogwarts. It seemed as if her need to constantly raise her hand annoyed everyone, including the Muggle children. They all thought her a bit bothersome.

“Getting tired of hanging around with Potter and Weasley already?” Draco asked, catching her off-guard. “Not that I blame you. Being in their company is almost as bad as being in yours.”

Hermione whirled around, her lips pressing together. Already slightly cross, her reply came out hotly, returning the jab. “Because Crabbe and Goyle’s time is so well spent with you.”

He tilted his head in consideration. “I think I’m rather generous letting them stick around. They should consider themselves lucky.”

Everyone knew they weren’t the brightest pair and despite the mild harassment sent their way, because he really did push them around every so often, they chose to back him up. They nodded along whenever he complained, habitually agreeing, and provided company, for he’d otherwise be alone in most instances.

Slytherins did tend to flock around him, however, for better or worse.

Perhaps it was his gloating that irritated her the most, the way he took pleasure in making those around him feel almost worthless in comparison. She certainly endured a fair amount of his insults. Every time Hermione let herself contemplate the reasons behind the antagonistic side of him, Draco proved to be more disagreeable and therefore shattering any built-up inquisitiveness.

Before the usual back and forth of their comments could continue, he felt something brush along his legs, the fluffy animal’s purrs sounding loud enough to hear. Draco’s near inscrutable countenance faltered as a scowl overtook. “How about keeping your cat away from me?”

“Crookshanks,” Hermione chastised. While Sirius deemed him the most intelligent of his kind, he certainly picked the worst person to be affectionate towards.

Draco didn’t recoil or kick the animal aside. Truthfully, cats didn’t bother him. But Hermione didn’t have to shoo him away, the feline darted between them upon the sound of a cart proceeding down the walkway.

“Anything from the trolley, dears? Last time passing through.” The woman’s voice rose cheerfully, a smile attached regardless of Draco’s silence and Hermione’s soft-spoken refusal. “No? Then would you mind?”

A moment of hesitancy occurred before they shifted into his empty compartment to let her pass.

Hermione surely wasn’t the shy, reserved type, yet sweeping past Draco (even if only for a moment they stood closer than normal to one another) her cheeks flushed a light shade of pink. A tremble hit her resolve – a fracture forming along the foundation of every decision made to ignore him.

A steadying breath pacified her nerves.

Her gaze, while evading an anticipated glower, fell on a large discoloration stretched from his knuckles towards his arm. The bruise, once well hidden, held a prominent purple shade against his pale skin.

“What happened to your hand?” She didn’t mean to ask the question so forthright or at all really.

The concern woven in her tone came across unexpectedly. He chose a cutting response. “As if it’s any of your business, Granger.”

Did it ever get tiresome maintaining such a rigid, callous demeanor? She saw it more as a defense mechanism of sorts, often displayed and played out for his own benefit.

“Did your father do that to you?” Hermione asked, not dissuaded in the slightest by his obvious avoidance. Hermione remembered seeing Lucius jab him in the stomach by means of his cane. She suddenly wondered if the maltreatment happened often.

“Who do you think you are accusing my father of something like that?” He placed his palm on the door, unintentionally blocking her way out. “Always acting as if you know everything.”

Then he felt it – a sinking pressure hit his chest, causing every beat of his heart to pulsate with a ruthless intensity. He endured it for a moment last year, though thought nothing of it since. Now it decided to make itself known again. To his dread a fluttering sensation snaked into his stomach.

He absolutely refused to have feelings for Hermione Granger.

She was so far beneath him it was pitiful. Maybe her eyes still glowed, set ablaze like a compelling force of nature. Draco could probably also admit her features softened in a pretty fashion. Even her bushy, light brown hair framed her face differently, settling in a gentle wave, dipping past her shoulders.

But attraction? No, utterly out of the question.

His piercing blue-gray eyes hit her like ice, his signature sneer in place. Hermione cleared her throat. “You know, you make it increasingly difficult for anyone so show even a fraction of compassion. It’s almost as if you’re doing it on purpose.”

He bit back a laugh, able to find his voice again and it dripped equally in bitterness. “You’re joking, right? As if I want the concern of someone of your kind.”

Nose scrunched in annoyance; Hermione shook her head in disbelief. “I’ll never understand what makes you think you’re so much better than everyone else,” she pronounced. “Frankly, it’s a wonder you can stand at all without the weight of your ego dragging you down! If you have nothing else to say, how about letting me leave?”

Draco drew his arm back, narrowing his gaze. “Do me a favor and stay out of my way. I could definitely use less conversations with a Mudblood.”

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” she replied, cutting past him. “Even if you’re the one who seems to start them all.”

Draco settled back in his seat. What right did she have to say anything at all about his family?

Pansy came over merely to make a fuss about how irritating Hermione was, having caught the end of their confrontation, but no direct set of sentences. He hid his hand from sight, not in the mood to deal with her fawning over the injury, much like the time Buckbeak scratched his arm.

The gash bled quite profusely, and he may have encouraged anyone’s attention then, he felt no yearning for it now. Luckily, Pansy left on her own accord, heading in Blaise’s direction.

Relief hit immediately, no matter the length of his solitude, he took full advantage and allowed the sudden wave of emotions to dwindle. Hoping they remained absent upon their next encounter. There’d obviously be more regardless of their parting retorts.

He flexed his fingers, the pain pulsating.

A day prior to catching the train, Draco intended to make his way to his room to finish packing, only to pass by a door left slightly ajar. He didn’t intend to linger (he knew better than to listen in on conversations). Although upon hearing Narcissa say his name, curiosity caused his feet to stay in place.

He didn’t really know who his mother spoke to, regardless of being aware of them having company. Lucius told him to stay out of the way. Not in any particular want to disobey, he intended to do nothing less. Until that instance anyway.

The conversation turned towards Bertha Jorkins seconds upon him stopping, some woman from the Ministry who went missing, which quickly caused his interest to lessen. But he kept still in case the conversation drifted back towards him.

Draco shifted some, having moved his hand on the wall. He never heard the footsteps coming from behind. Next thing he knew an angry flare of pain erupted across his skin.

Cane raised; Lucius gave him a severe look. His warning rang in his ears. What did I say about eavesdropping, Draco?

On impulse, he apologized and hurried off.

Hermione guessed the culprit instantly, yet a denial came. Draco never overly scrutinized any of the scenarios. The soreness would eventually subside and besides, his father deserved the respect to be listened to.

Now, no thanks to her, the memory hit differently, less like a lesson.

Draco never found the right word to describe it as his attention altered after Crabbe and Goyle rejoined him. “Where have you two been?” They had an abundance of sweets, so he waved their mumbled answers away. “Oh, forget it.” His irritation rose, hating that he picked a seat so near to Harry, Ron and Hermione. “And close the damn door.”

He leaned back, taking in the lack of Hermione’s voice, glad it no longer weaved its way through the commotion, somehow ensnaring his attention amongst the myriad of students.

#dramione #hermione granger #draco malfoy #harry potter #the goblet of fire #i finally finished!#it took me forever to get the flow of the chapter to my liking XD #nice comments are always appreciated #sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes

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