2. Living Arrangements

Author's Note: Okay, so in order to tell this story the right way, I'm going to have to write a few flashbacks. There will probably be one in every chapter for a while. These flashbacks, hopefully, will provide answers to some questions you might have. So of course, everytime you see a date at the beginning of a new chapter, or after a page-break, it's a flashback. No date means it's present day. But I'm sure you all could have figured that out yourselves. I just like writing really long author's notes. :D

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Hell, I don't even own a cell phone. Seriously.

They stood across from each other, engaged in a staring contest that neither one seemed to want to lose. Their glares were so intense that it really was a good thing that looks couldn't kill.

Professor Minerva McGonagall couldn't have felt more uncomfortable than she did at that very moment. Of course, it's not like she hadn't expected this. After all, how would she feel if she'd just been informed that she would have to spend the next ten months living with her worst enemy? She imagined she'd be feeling the same way Hermione Granger was right then.

"So," McGonagall said, clearing her throat. Neither student so much as flinched at the sound of her voice. "Now that you've gotten the tour of your new living quarters, do either of you have any questions?"

"Yes," the blonde Slytherin said through clenched teeth. "Will I get expelled if I accidentally murder my roommate?"

The bushy-haired girl in front of him scowled. Professor McGonagall, however, just gave a sigh of annoyance.

"Do not make us regret putting you two together, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall scolded him. "You are Head Boy now. And Miss Granger is Head Girl. This is an honor for both of you, and I advise you to forget about your differences if you plan to make it through the school year. As Heads of the school, you are expected to set a good example for the other students – and that does not include, as you put it, murdering your roommate. Is that clear?"

"It's very clear, Professor McGonagall," Hermione said sweetly.

"She was talking to me, mudblood," Draco growled.

"Enough!" McGonagall yelled. She had put up with their bickering the whole way from her office to their common room, and now she was experiencing a splitting headache. "Mr. Malfoy, you can either apologize to Miss Granger for using that foul language, or you can say goodbye to your Head Boy badge. It's not too late for us to choose another student, you know."

Draco glared first at his teacher, then at that thing some people called a girl in front of him. A Malfoy apologizing to a lowly mudblood was about as common as…well, about as common as the least common thing he could think of. But he sure didn't want to lose his role as Head Boy before he'd even had a chance to enjoy it – especially not when he'd seen what his bedroom looked like. So he took a deep breath and said, "Fine. Granger, I'm sorry for calling you a mudblood." He hoped McGonagall could not hear the insincerity of his voice.

If she did, she chose to ignore it. Draco figured the woman had had enough of these two for one day, and just wanted to get away as quickly as she could. "Very well," she said. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, it's going to be an exciting year for the both of you, and I have all the faith in the world that you two will make great leaders. Now, I'll let you get settled in here. Meet me after the feast tonight, so we can go over your duties with the prefects."

Hermione nodded in response; Draco just grunted and dropped down onto the couch with a thud. Professor McGonagall accepted both of their responses and hastily left the room.

Once she was gone and they were all alone, Draco jumped up from the couch, got as close to Hermione as he could without actually touching her and said, "Okay, mudblood, it's time to make some rules around here."

Hermione drew in a sharp breath at the word "mudblood". Obviously, Draco had not taken McGonagall's threat seriously. Or, he just figured he could get away with it once they were no longer under her disapproving glare. "Rules? Oh, this ought to be good," she said, her voice thick with sarcasm.

Draco took one step back and said, "Rule number one: my bedroom is off limits to you."

Hermione snorted. "As if I would ever want to enter your bedroom, Malfoy. I might catch some sort of venereal disease brought in by one of the many Slytherin whores I'm sure you're planning on dragging in there."

She flinched slightly after finishing the sentence, as if she was afraid Draco would strike her. But amazingly enough, Draco chose to ignore the comment and continue.

"Rule number 2: when I have a guest over, you make yourself scarce. I don't want your filth around, stinking the place up for my guests."

"How thoughtful of you," Hermione said, again with the sarcasm. "Once again, that's something you're never going to have to worry about. I don't exactly enjoy being in the presence of your 'guests', anyway. In fact, I'd rather throw myself off the Astronomy Tower than to stay in here and hang out with you and your friends."

"Is that so? Well I'll just have to invite you to hang out with us sometime." Draco smirked.

Hermione crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her foot against the floor. "Well both of those rules are the same for you, you know. I don't want you within fifteen feet of my bedroom at any given time. And if I have my friends over, I expect you to leave."

"Oh, it would be my pleasure, Granger. You say you'd rather jump off the Astronomy Tower than hang out with my friends? Well I would rather chop off my fingers one by one and set myself on fire than hang out with yours."

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "Well then, that's settled." She held out her hand to shake on it.

Draco looked at her as if she'd gone insane. He scoffed. "Yeah, right. Like I'm going to touch you. Dream on, Granger."

"Ugh. Why do you always have to be such an insufferable git?"

"Why do you always have to be such a -"

"Hermione!"

The muffled sound of her name being called must have been a great relief to her. But to Draco, it made him want to gauge out his eyes. Scarface had arrived.

"Harry!" Hermione cried. She rushed as quickly as she could over to the portrait hole and threw open the door.

Harry bloody Potter stood on the other side of the entrance, looking like his normal superhero self. His unruly black hair (desperately in need of a trim) stuck out every which way from the top of his head, currently hiding that famous lightning bolt scar all the girls seemed to go gaga for. A big, goofy grin was plastered on his face as he stood there staring at the bushy-haired girl in front of him. Oh, how sweet.

"Hello, Hermione." Harry glanced over her shoulder at Draco and his expression immediately darkened. "May I come in?"

"Of course!" she said, her voice full of glee.

Draco was beginning to feel a little queasy.

Harry sauntered into the room, looking around in awe. "Wow," he breathed. "So this is where you're going to be living all year?"

Hermione nodded. "Isn't it wonderful? Wait until you see my bedroom!"

"I'll bet you can't wait to show him that," Draco mumbled.

Harry glared over at him and said, "What's that supposed to mean, Malfoy?"

Draco sighed. "It means whatever you want it to mean, Scarhead. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go unpack."

He left the two friends alone and headed for his bedroom. However, once he got to the door, he stopped to listen to their conversation.

"I came to see how you were doing with…well, with him," Harry said. "I was worried about you."

"That's really sweet, Harry, but I'm fine. I can handle him."

"Can you?" Harry asked. "I can't believe they would put you two together, knowing your history."

"Harry," Hermione said, "they wouldn't have put us together if they didn't think we could handle it. They must have chosen us for a good reason. I have faith in their decision. Besides…I'm Head Girl! This has been my dream for nearly seven years now, and it's come true! I honestly couldn't care less who the Head Boy is. Although…" Her voice trailed off. "I really wish you had been Head Boy."

Oh, for Merlin's sake. Draco had heard enough. If he continued to eavesdrop on their conversation, he was going to lose all the food he'd eaten so far that day right there, in front of his bedroom door. Yet…he just couldn't bring himself to stop listening.

"Yeah, well…I guess they figured I'd have more than enough to contend with this year. You know, in case Voldemort shows up again."

"Right," Hermione said. "I suppose. That was smart of them."

"But not so smart of them to put you with Malfoy. I should have a talk with Dumbledore -"

"Oh, Harry, don't be silly! It's not as if you'd be able to change his mind. Besides, I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

Harry paused for a moment before saying softly, "I know, Hermione. I just worry about you. I'm going to have to come around everyday to see if you're okay, you know."

"Ah, well, I don't have a problem with that," Hermione said, suddenly sounding perkier.

Draco chose this moment to re-enter the common room. "Hey Potter, why don't you leave? Let Granger here unpack her stuff before dinner."

Harry glowered over at him, then looked at Hermione. He must have realized that Draco's suggestion was a good one, because he said, "Ron and I will meet up with you after the feast?"

"Sorry, no can do," Draco spoke up first.

"I was asking Hermione," Harry said through clenched teeth.

"He's right, Harry," Hermione said softly. "I can't. Malfoy and I have to meet with McGonagall and the other prefects after the feast. But I'll be seeing you guys bright and early tomorrow morning for classes, and we can hang out afterward."

Though Harry seemed to be listening to Hermione, he was glaring at Draco the whole time. "Fine," he said. He placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Take care of yourself."

"Don't worry, Potter. She's safe with me," Draco said with a smirk.

Harry scoffed. He took a step closer to Draco and clenched his fists at his side. "If you do anything to Hermione -"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know – I'll regret it. I'm real scared. See?" Draco held out his hand in front of him and shook it violently. "Now, weren't you just leaving?"

"I'll talk to you later, Hermione," Harry mumbled as he brushed past Draco, knocking into him in the process. He didn't even look back at her before he left.

"Bye, Harry!" she called out after him. When she received no response, she frowned slightly.

Draco's smirk widened. "So, Granger. How long?"

Hermione tore her gaze away from the portrait hole. "How long what?"

"How long have you been in love with Potter?"

Hermione's jaw dropped. "W-what? I have no idea what you're talking about!" Her tone of voice was defensive.

Draco chuckled. "Right. I couldn't help but overhear part of your conversation just now. Oh, Harry," he said, imitating her voice, "how I wish YOU had been Head Boy instead of that evil git Malfoy! You're so sexy, want to shag?"

"I did not…!" Hermione's face turned beet read. Draco couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment, or from anger. He decided on anger when she reached out suddenly to hit him.

Fortunately for him, Draco had sharp reflexes; he managed to grab her wrist before she made contact with him. And instead of letting go of her immediately, he tightened his grip and pulled her closer to him so they were practically face-to-face.

"Tell me, Granger," Draco said in a low, dangerous voice, "when you lie awake in bed every night thinking about Harry Potter, do you touch yourself?"

Draco took immense pleasure in the reaction his question evoked from the girl in front of him: first, her eyes widened in shock. Then, her plain features crumpled into an expression of disgust. Then, she seemed to have developed super-human strength and pushed him away as hard as she could, breaking his grasp from her and making him stumble back a couple of feet. He was actually quite impressed.

Once he had steadied himself, he laughed. "I take that as a yes."

"UGH!" she screamed. "You disgusting pig!"

"Oh come on, Granger. You can honestly tell me that you've never thought of Potter like that?"

"No!" she cried. "I mean, yes, I can honestly say that! I've never -"

"Aw, too bad I don't believe you. Mudblood is in love with Boy Wonder. This is great." He chuckled.

"I'm not in love with Harry!"

"Whatever, Granger." Draco picked up a bag he had left beside the couch. "You can keep saying that until you're blue in the face, but I'm not going to buy it. Now go unpack. The Head Boy and Girl need to set a good example for the other students – starting with arriving to dinner on time."

Whistling, he headed back to his room.

"I hate you, Malfoy!" Hermione called out after him.

"The feeling, my dear mudblood, is mutual."

Oh, how he loved to rile up the mudblood. It was just too easy! He slipped into his bedroom and threw his bag onto the bed. Before closing his door, he could have sworn he'd heard her mutter, "This is going to be a long year."

The snow was falling so hard that all he could see out the window was white – as if nothing existed outside of these classroom walls but a vast, empty white space…

"Mr. Malfoy."

A voice from the front of the room broke him out of his reverie. His first thought was that Professor McGonagall was calling on him to answer a question – one that, of course, he had not heard, due to the fact he had not been paying attention.

But when he shifted his gaze away from the window, he saw that he was the only student left in the room.

"Class is over, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said with a hint of concern in her voice.

Draco felt like an idiot. He cleared his throat and mumbled, "Sorry," and began to pack up his things.

"Are you feeling okay? I couldn't help but notice you were not paying attention in class today. Or, for that matter, yesterday." McGonagall leaned up against the front of her desk. "And now that I think about it, you've been acting this way for some time now. Does this have anything to do with your father?" She said the last part with a bit of hesitation.

This angered Draco. Not because she'd brought up the subject of his father, but because how daft could the woman be? If she'd been paying any attention at all, she would have noticed that his lack of academic interest had begun to dissipate about only two months ago.

"No," he said curtly. He finished stashing his books into his bag and stood up "This has nothing to do with my father. He died over a year ago. I'm over it."

And he really was. He'd loved his father, but Draco had had no trouble dealing with the grief after Lucius Malfoy had died at the hands of Lord Voldemort at the beginning of his sixth year. His father had been controlling and demanding, and he had probably deserved to be killed. Draco knew that was a horrible thing to think about his father, but it was true. His father had done some terrible, evil things in his day. He certainly was not an innocent victim, and the fact that he had been killed by the man he worshipped…well, his father knew what he'd been getting into…and who he was dealing with – and he had chosen to go down that path…the path that led to his demise. Draco could mourn the loss of his father, but he could not feel remorse for his father. Not like he could Hermione.

There she was, creeping into his thoughts again. How many times a day did she manage to do that? He lost count everyday.

"Well, then what is bothering you?" McGonagall asked.

"Nothing," Draco lied. "Honestly, I'm fine."

McGonagall shook her head. "You are not fine, Mr. Malfoy…Draco. You come to class everyday looking like you barely got any sleep. You seem to have distanced yourself from your friends. Your grades have been slipping, and so have your duties as Head Boy. I've been informed that you've been bribing prefects to perform your duties for you."

Draco tried his best not to look guilty. "Those accusations are unfounded, Professor."

"Unfounded? I ran into a prefect last night, as a matter of fact. He was patrolling the hallways – a job you were supposed to be doing last night. Upon interrogation, he admitted that you had paid him to take over your duties for the night. What, may I ask, were you doing that was more important than your Head Boy duties?"

The same thing I do every night, Draco thought. Sitting alone in my common room, wanting to die. "Does it really matter what I was doing?"

Professor McGonagall considered this for a moment. "I suppose not. What matters is that you've not been doing the jobs you've been assigned. This is hardly the way a Head Boy should be behaving. The Heads of the school are supposed to set examples for the other students." She sighed. "Mr. Malfoy, I do not want to have to strip you of your badge – especially this late in the year. And especially after…well, after everything that has happened. You are a smart young man. We chose you as Head Boy for a reason. I know you can be an exemplary leader for these students, you just need to try a little harder. Can you do that?"

Draco gritted his teeth and nodded. "Yes, ma'am." Without so much as another word, Draco headed for the classroom door, but Professor McGonagall called him back.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said, "before you leave, there is something else we need to discuss."

Draco stopped a mere inches from the door. What else could there possibly be for them to discuss? He turned around.

"Why don't you take a seat." McGonagall motioned to one of the desks in the front of the room.

A discussion that required he sit down did not sound like a discussion he wanted to have. "What's this about?" he asked, doing as she asked.

For a moment, the professor before him stood silent; her lips pursed together; the expression on her face indicating that maybe she didn't want to say whatever it was she was going to say. "Professor Dumbledore and I have begun considering other girls for the Head Girl position."

"WHAT?" Draco exploded. He realized his outburst might have taken her by surprise. Surely she hadn't been expecting him to react that way to this piece of news. "You can't do that."

"We certainly can," McGonagall said. "It's been almost two months now since -"

"Two months exactly," he corrected her. "Two months today."

Professor McGonagall seemed taken-aback. "Right. It's been two months today. Meaning the school has been without a Head Girl for exactly two months. We're going to have to find a replacement sometime."

"No one can replace her," Draco mumbled.

"Listen, I understand that you've probably gotten used to having that place all to yourself, but -"

"It has nothing to do with that!" Draco snapped. He couldn't believe she would even assume that would be the reason he didn't want another Head Girl – because he wanted a common room all to himself. But then, why wouldn't she assume that? "I just think…maybe we shouldn't have another Head Girl this year."

"Why on earth not?" McGonagall demanded. "We need one right now more than ever. Especially since our Head Boy is slacking in his duties…"

"I'm sorry," Draco said. "Okay? I'm sorry I've been slacking. I'm sorry I've been doing everything wrong, but please…please don't appoint another Head Girl. I promise I'll be a better role model for the other students. I promise I'll start doing all of my duties again. I can do this alone, I swear. With the help of all the prefects and everything, we don't need another Head Girl."

If Professor McGonagall had known any better, she could have sworn Draco Malfoy was begging. "Mr. Malfoy," she said softly. "I'm sorry, too. But it's been two months now. We've put this off long enough. If we don't appoint another Head Girl, we're just allowing things to remain the way they were since Miss Granger…well, since she died. It's not healthy. We all need to move on, and we can start by doing this. I'm sorry if that is not what you want. But it's what needs to be done. There is no discussion about it. If you'd like, you may give us your input on who you would like as Head Girl, and we will certainly take it into consideration."

Draco scowled at her. "I honestly don't give a fuck who you choose as Head Girl," he said, standing up from the desk. "Excuse me, I need to get to my next class."

"Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall called after him.

He half-expected her to reprimand him for his bad language. Instead, she said, "Your duty tonight is to patrol the halls. If I see anyone else doing it in place of you, I may have to seriously consider taking away your badge."

As if he really cared. But he didn't say that to her. He just walked out of the room in a huff, wondering which prefect he should ask to take over his duties that night.