The Dragon From Her Pages

Show Respect To Your Hippogriffs

The next day, young Draco woke warm and happy, which was a very unusual thing for his dismal character to feel. He was not yet aware just how much his little crush on Miss Hermione Granger cheered him up and made his woeful soul much lighter and happier. He packed his school bag, sneered at a few second years in the stairwell, and trotted down to the Great Hall for breakfast with his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, beside him. He called Crabbe and Goyle his friends, but they weren't really. Friends shared a bond like that of Hermione, Ron, and Harry, but he felt no such thing between him and those two buffoons. He sat as close to Hermione as he could, the Gryffindor table being next to theirs that morning, and tried to smile at her a little when he walked in. She narrowed her eyes, no doubt taking his smile for a mischievous smirk. He ate slowly, so that way after they were released for classes, he would arrive to Care of Magical Creatures slightly late, making a grand entrance that was sure to attract Hermione's attention. As the Gryffindor third years all cleaned their plates and headed out of the Great Hall down to Hagrid's hut, Draco took his time following after them. 10 minutes later, and 6 minutes late, he strutted onto the grounds with a sneer and said, "This class is a waste of my time. I'm not going to learn anything from this oaf. How are we even supposed to open these blasted books?"

Hagrid emerged from behind his hut. "You're supposed to stroke em. I'd have thought that would be obvious." Draco stroked the spine of his book, and it went limp in his hands. He unbelted it and turned to page 49. He looked at Hagrid, impressed that he'd actually told them something useful.

To Draco's delight, Hermione spoke. "I think they're funny," she giggled.

"Oh yeah. Terribly funny. Really witty," he said. His oily voice added a mocking tone to it, making it seem less sincere, only adding to Hermione's hatred. "God this place has gone to the dogs. Wait until my father hears Dumbledore's got this oaf teaching classes." This time he meant it to sound condescending; inflicting the name of his father always brought him attention. But instead of the girl he wished to impress, insolent Potter spoke up. Why must he always fight her battles? He thought to himself, rolling his eyes.

"Shut up, Malfoy."

Malfoy cooed as he bit his lip and stepped toward Harry, eyeing his competition. Then a sudden idea crossed his mind. I really am so brilliant. "Look out Potter! Dementor!" He cried, twisting his face into a revulsive, frightened expression. All the Slytherin's standing round, laughed. Draco grimaced as Hermione grabbed Harry by the shoulders and turned him away, but his heart fluttered when she turned back to look at him and sneered. He had rarely seen her sneer, but when she did it was the most heart-stopping expression he'd ever received. He was watching Hermione's back and only broke his focus when he heard a great squawk coming from the other end of the field.

"Ta-da! Meet, Buckbeak." Said Hagrid proudly. Standing in front of the class was a huge Hippogriff (at least that's what page 49 called him), a beast whose front half resembled an eagle; his head, wings, feathers, and talons, but the back half and hooves of a big horse.

He stared at it for a little while, before he tuned out and began to think about Hermione's wonderful, loathing sneer again, ignoring the rest of Hagrid's speech about safety and such. He watched, but not really paying any attention, as Harry bowed, petted, and mounted Buckbeak, before touching back down after a short lap around the field. He glanced over at Hermione, who was smiling and clapping furiously. If Potter can do it, anyone can. He pushed Crabbe and Goyle out of the way and strutted up to the beast.

"You're not hard to manage at all, are you? You proud, fowl beast." He turned round to see if Hermione was watching him, and she certainly was. But her eyes now looked concerned and frightful. A powerful blow fell on his arm and he fell back, Buckbeak towering over him. Hagrid rushed to his aid and calmed the Hippogriff down before it pounded Draco into the ground. His arm was throbbing, his robes and shirt torn, now red with blood.

"He needs to go to the hospital wing!" Hermione yelled, and Hagrid picked him up with ease and carried him up the hill to the castle.

Draco wailed all the way, making a show of it. "Help me. I'm dying. It's killed me. Oh, it hurts." He didn't care if he sounded ridiculous or not, Hermione's concerned expression followed after him until he was out of her sight.

In the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey fixed him up in no time, but encouraged him to wear a cast until the swelling went down. He limped into the Great Hall for dinner, pouting about his hurt arm and injured ego. He sat across from Hermione again and said to Crabbe and Goyle, "It may never be the same again. It was injured so badly, my father won't be happy at all about this." He wanted Hermione to see how much power he had, even if it was just through his father. And he wanted to keep her concerned.

But when he saw her roll her eyes and heard her whisper to Harry and Ron, "He's perfectly fine, he just wants to get Hagrid sacked. The git," he didn't feel too proud anymore and he quickly dropped his dinnertime charade. But he didn't know that Hermione was secretly concerned for him, and her brow twisted into a pitiful expression as she watched him struggling to eat with his left hand. If he had noticed, perhaps he wouldn't have looked so sad.