Ten Things I Hate About You
AN: (WRITTEN AFTER HBP—SOME ELEMENTS TO JK'S STORY IS DIFFERENT IN MINE, SO IF YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND/SEE IT DOESN'T FIT IN HER STORY, REMEMBER THAT I'VE CHANGED IT TO FIT MY OWN, SO JUST IGNORE HERS!)
this chapter is very long, but it is a much needed introduction for such an intense story!
SUMMARY: Draco cleared his throat as the paper he held in his hands began to shake. He could feel Harry's intense gaze on him in front of the classroom—the very boy who broke his heart. He took in a shaking breath and continued, "…but mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all." The tears began to fall and he jolted from the classroom. H/D SLASH
Draco Malfoy, a quick-minded, insulting bastard, who has no hope in love, or mankind whatsoever—every bit of a Shrew
Harry Potter, a changed individual with a "sod off" sign plastered onto his forehead—quite the bad boy
William Shakespeare never seemed so fucking amazing, Ten Things I Hate About You/Taming of the Shrew meets the Harry Potter Universe (HDSLASH)
Chapter One: Introduction
"But Father, I don't want to marry Pansy!" Draco growled, slamming the parlor door shut as he fled to his bedroom. He nearly bumped into Blaise, who was coming down the stairs at the same time.
"Watch where you're bloody well stepping!" shouted Blaise. Draco whirled on him.
"Just because your mum is shagging my dad doesn't make us brothers, do you hear me? So don't talk to me like you are my equal!" Draco spat.
"I believe it does," Blaise replied coldly. He stepped into Draco's personal space with the most menacing look he could muster. "If my memory does not fail me, I believe there was exchanging of rings, fluffy white dresses and a separate wand ceremony that deemed us as an entire family, brother." His brown eyes were lit with fire. "And even if my mum wasn't shagging your dad, I'd be above you Malfoy; I would not be your equal."
"Fuck you," Draco whispered, running up the stairs with and angry and embarrassed air about him.
Upon reaching his room, he fell onto his bed, tears welling up in his eyes. He moved up to lay his head on one of his many pillows, and slid a hand underneath it, pulling out a clipping from the Daily Prophet."NARCISSA MALFOY, AGE 36, DIED JUNE 8th 2005 due to a raiding of Death Eaters. It can be said, that Narcissa Malfoy was indeed a Death Eater, but after the failure of her son, Draco Malfoy, and Father, Lucius Malfoy's mission to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Death Eaters were told to kill the defenseless woman, who was in fact eight months pregnant…Both she and the unnamed child died. Mr. Lucius Malfoy and Mr. Draco Malfoy have made no comment towards the horrible death; however, they are both deeply disturbed by the lost of Ms. Malfoy…"
He had lost his precious mother, so gentle and beautiful, to an unpredictable incident. She had carried out a healthy term. He refused to think of the day she died, what he was doing, or what he had said to her. He would never revisit that memory.
It was the summer that Voldemort had raised to fledge complete war of the Wizarding World. He had fled with Snape, hoping that he would not die.
His father met Blaise's mom at a charity benefit a few months after his mother's death. He fell in love with her, and married her, despite her horrible reputation for keeping a man alive. Draco saw that even though Lucius loved his new wife, he still kept the memory of Narcissa alive, by keeping pictures and paintings up of her. He also did not sign Blaise's mother into the Malfoy Will.
Draco was 17 now, his birthday had been yesterday. Now, his father was planning an arranged marriage because he needed to carry out the family name. Also, Blaise could not find love or date, until Draco did, because Draco was a few months older than Blaise. It was simply tradition.
But Draco didn't want to date. He thought all aspects of dating were horrible, and to propose the idea of marriage, made Draco want to vomit.
Also, he didn't date girls.
He couldn't tell his father that he preferred men over women, and that he would never think about having children, ever, with a girl. Not after what happened to his mother.
But he had known this forever.
This feeling of confusion had him trapped in his own mind and body to fight and tackle relentlessly until the other side failed. He had fought against it, and lost it horribly to the side that made him fear himself the most. He would never be able to tell his Father.
Never.
Lucius sighed diligently as his wife rubbed the small of his back.
"Don't worry darling," she murmured soothingly. "He'll come 'round to the idea…"
"I just wish Draco wasn't so stubborn…this would be so much easier on him if he'd drop this shrewish behavior!" Lucius growled much like Draco had done. She giggled.
"Where do you think he gets it from?" she asked. Lucius turned to gape at her smiling face, and then wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close to him.
"Ah, well you see, he gets it from me, I suppose. But his shyness is from his mother."
Angela cooed loudly, pulling away from Lucius to look into his piercing gray eyes. She smiled.
"Yes, I completely agree. Narcissa was a very shy woman, but Draco seems to be breaking that habit," she said, standing. Lucius took in a sharp intake of air at the comment, and turned away from her immediately so she would not see the shock in his eyes.
The thought of Draco letting go of his mother's memory or habits scared him.
"Are you coming dear?"
Lucius jumped, grasping the arm of the couch he was resting at. "Of course," he replied standing and taking the hand of his new wife.
"O dearest Draco…"
Draco stirred around in his bed, the soothing voice reminding him strongly of his mother.
"Draco, love…"
His eyes flew open when a hand touched his bare shoulder. He jumped, pulling the blanket over his head. His mind raced, the voice sounded exactly like his mother's, and he was fearful of what would be standing beside his bed.
"Draco, dear—dinner is ready."
He slowly pulled the blanket away from his face and saw Angela standing beside his bed in a simple blue dress. Her long brown curls fell nearly to her waist and her purplish-brown eyes glinted with amusement. She was indeed beautiful.
"Angela…" Draco started, "I'm sorry, I thought—"
"It's quite okay; I didn't mean to scare you. Dinner is ready, I thought maybe you had fallen ill, so I decided to come in and check on you, but you were asleep. So I am here now, so you can eat."
"Thanks, I'll be down in a bit," he said, waiting for her to leave. Instead, she sat on the bed beside him, and smiled down at him.
"I would like to talk to you Draco," she said. Draco became uncomfortable.
"What about?"
"About you, your father, and I," she started slowly.
"There's nothing wrong with Father and me," Draco said defensively. "After the War, there's nothing left for us to do but try to keep each other happy."
"But you must feel something Draco; you must feel angry with this sudden change."
If there was one thing Draco hated the most about Angela, it was her profession. She was a Therapwitch. She constantly talked about feelings, emotions, and dreams, claiming that it would find one's inner eye.
"The change has benefited me, I can't complain about it," he said flatly.
"But the death of your mother—"
"—HAS DONE NOTHING TO ME!" he roared. Angela kept her composure. "Leave my room!" Draco shouted.
"Draco, listen to me…I want nothing but happiness for you, I want to be there for you Draco, I want to care about you, love you and understand you like you're my own child!"
"But I'm not your bloody child! I had a mum! I don't need another!"
Angela stood from her spot on the bed, obviously hurt by what Draco said.
"I would never try to replace your mother, Draco. We were all victims of this war," she hissed, pulling her sleeve up to show the scar on her creamy caramel skin that used to be the dark mark. "We have to live with it, and I know your mother was a woman of utmost beauty and respect, but I think she would be frighteningly angry if she knew how you were treating this situation. Your Father came a long way to withdraw his membership from the Dark Lord; he helped Harry Potter destroy the disgruntled creature."
"I don't care," Draco murmured. Images of Harry standing above him, at 12 Grimmauld Place, plagued his mind constantly.
"You do, deep down in that closeted heart of yours, you do Draco. You may think you're a shrew, so cold and rude, but you're not…we will see." She said, leaving his room. Draco threw a pillow in her direction as the door shut.
"DAMN IT!" he roared.
Draco straightened his school tie as he stood to board the Hogwarts Express for his final year at Hogwarts. He knew he would be going back to a different place. People were dead, friends were different, and teachers were gone.
"Draco! Draco!" cried a voice. He turned around to see Pansy Parkinson run towards him. She threw herself at him and he quickly wrapped his arms around her.
"You're okay!" she snuggled deep into his school sweater. "I was so worried about you!"
Draco chuckled, "why would you be worried?" he asked.
"Because of that God-awful woman your father has shacked up with," she said, rolling her eyes. She released him and smiled. "How'd the marriage proposal go?"
"Horribly, Father still thinks we're getting married." Pansy giggled.
"Well then, I'll just have to tell him how much I hate you," she said, smiling up at him.
Pansy didn't want to marry Draco either, finding him more appealing as a friend. She was actually smitten by Blaise, who was off limits (by tradition) to any girls in the school until Draco found someone first. She hated Wizard Traditions.
"Oi! Harry!" another shout was heard in the distance. Draco turned from Pansy's smiling face to see Harry Potter run to a tall, red-haired boy, none other than Ronald Weasley. A beautiful young girl stood beside him, and on closer inspection, he saw that it was Hermione Granger.
"Is that Hermione Granger?" said a deep voice from beside him. Draco looked around and saw that Blaise was coming from behind him. "What she do to her hair?"
"She obviously cut it, and dyed it," Pansy said flatly.
"It's gorgeous," he commented, walking onto the Express.
"I thought he hated filth," Pansy whispered. Draco shot her a death glare.
"You know saying less than that can land you in Azkaban!" he hissed. Pansy closed her mouth.
"I was only teasing…you know I don't think like that anymore!"
"I know, but they won't see that," Draco said, nodding towards the group of Aurors who stood at the gateway. He turned around again to see Hermione Granger shake out her new, dark blonde hair to Harry. He could hear him say "wow" as he touched her hair fondly.
Harry, on the other hand, hadn't changed much, Draco thought with a tut. He'd gotten rid of his round glasses for small, half-moon glasses, much like Dumbledore's, and the scar still adorned his forehead, but was not as defined as it used to be. His hair was longer, seeing that he pulled it back in a stout ponytail, to have some of it frame his face, and it seemed like he had missed a day or two of shaving, giving him a rugged look. He had had a major growth spurt; it seems to Draco, too. He used to be a measly 5'9, but it looked like he was towering over six feet…or maybe Draco hadn't noticed before.
"He's just gorgeous," Pansy whispered. Draco clucked his tongue.
"How the hell would I know? He's still the ugly freakish boy from last year."
"Only," Pansy sang, "he's bloody gorgeous this year, did you SEE that beard he's got going?"
Draco mumbled, but worried why she was pressing the idea of Potter on him. He panicked that maybe she knew his secret.
"So what do you think about Granger?" she asked, with a wicked smile.
Draco sighed out of relief, "she's all right, I suppose."
"Welcome, to another year at Hogwarts," said a deep, old voice. Harry stood on his feet to get a better look at the man who was sitting in Dumbledore's old seat. Hermione, however, knocked into him due to standing too long on the tip of her toes.
"Oh! Sorry Harry," she said, moving from off of him.
"It's okay…"
"I know that you all miss my brother dearly, but never fear he lives in each one of our hearts…I am Aberforth Dumbledore…"
The students in the Hall gasped.
"Is he the guy that practiced inappropriate charms on a goat?" someone shouted.
"I know, you all must have heard some very inane storied about me! But I promise to do justice to dear Albus's empire!" he said, earning an eruption of applauses from the Hall. "Now on to business…we have several new teachers' joining us this year…" He sat in his seat and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Ah…let's see…" he said, looking off to the side. A door swung open and Tonks stumbled out. Her hair was its usual blinding bubble-gum pink. "Yes! First, we have your new Transfiguration teacher, and Gryffindor Head of House! Professor Tonks!"
"That's right, McGonagall retired!" Hermione gasped. Harry smiled down at her shocked expression.
"A well deserved retirement I might add!" he shouted over the roaring.
"She's pretty damn fit, eh Harry?" Ron asked, leaning over.
"I reckon…I mean, we are sorta related, so it's kind of gross!"
"Bullocks! Not by blood!"
"Right…" Albus started, "I believe we have Charlie Weasley next!" An attractive, muscular redhead entered the Hall, a dark wizard hat sitting on top of his head.
"THAT'S MY BROTHER!" Ron roared with a huge grin on his face. He clapped Ginny on the shoulder with excitement extremely hard, making her flop back in her seat.
"He will be our new Care of Magical Creatures teacher! Yes, welcome Professor Weasley! Next we have Viktor Krum—"
"I KNEW IT!" Ron roared. "I KNEW IT WASN'T A RUMOR!"
"—As our Potions professor, and Head of Slytherin!"
"Yeah, Snape is still in Azkaban, plot or no plot for the good of the Wizarding World," Hermione murmured over the crowd's jeering.
"How do you feel about having your boyfriend up there, eh Mione?" Harry asked.
"He's not my boyfriend, I haven't seen him in ages, and we were pen pals!" she cried.
"Right!" Harry retorted with a grin.
"And that is all we have for you all tonight, now, as Albus would have said: May the feast begin!" he cried. There was much noise of forks hitting the bottom of plates, and people laughing and gossiping about their summer.
"So, what did you do during the summer, Harry?" Seamus Finnegan asked over his peas.
"I killed Voldemort, obviously," Harry said with a cool tone. He had developed an odd personality over the summer, ditching his boyish charm for a manlier, uptight approach to his life.
"Well, other than that!" Seamus laughed.
"I picked up playing an instrument…" Harry murmured. Hermione turned to listen.
"What? You never told us that Harry!"
"He told me!" Ron said over a mouthful of kidney pie.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.
"You were in France," Harry said over his pumpkin juice.
"He picked up the piano…" Ron continued. "Mum taught him."
"He's actually a fast learner, aren't you Harry?" Ginny asked.
"Quite," he agreed.
"Any romance, Harry?" Parvati Patil asked, "You would certainly deserve it!" Harry quickly looked over at Ginny, who was pretending to not hear the question. They didn't continue their failed relationship.
"I haven't found anyone yet. I'm sure the right person will come along."
"Oh-ho! We heard about your bad boy activities over the summer, Potter!" Lavender Brown called from down the table. A group of her friends cheered loudly. "Underage drinking, having sex with a bunch of girls at the SAME TIME, being arrested, going clubbing at the local teen witching clubs….the list goes on Potter!"
Hermione turned again, to sharply face Harry. Here eyes were ablaze with anger.
"Harry! Is this true?!"
"Nothing but some harmless fun Hermione," Harry said, busying himself with his food.
"Harry James Potter!" Hermione said severely. "How could you?"
"How could I what? Have some normal fun?"
"Having sex and drinking is not fun!"
"Who said?" he asked, taking another swig from his pumpkin juice. This caused many of the boys at the table to cheer. Hermione continued to gawk at him.
"Do you like kissing me, Harry?" asked the girl. She leaned against the wall, looking teasingly at Harry. He smirked.
"I've never kissed you before."
"Do you want to kiss me?" she whispered, nibbling on his ear. He wrapped his arms around the girl, feeling her round breasts, her full lips, her long neck, and her soft hips. He hissed when she whispered his name in his ear. Suddenly, the voice became many octaves lower, the breasts disappeared to become hard plates, and the hips became narrow, with a stiffy pressing against his thigh. He pulled away from what used to be the girl, but woke up before he could see this mystery person.
"AHHH!" Harry cried, nearly falling from off the couch he was sleeping on. He covered his head with the throw he was using to nap with. His mind raced as he thought of the horrifying dream. He was thoroughly disgusted and humiliated that he would dream about something as putrid and absurd as a girl morphing into a boy. He shook his head, as he reassured himself that it was just a dream, with absolutely no meaning behind it.
"Harry!" Hermione cried, running over to the couch. She removed the Gryffindor embroidered throw from over his head and inspected him. "Were you having another dream?"
"Of course not, Voldemort is dead!"
"Er…" she started.
"It was just a dream, a normal dream!" he cracked a weak smile. Well, not normal, he thought. "It was just a dream, Mione…"
"Okay," she whispered, placing a hand protectively on his chest.
"Where's Ron?"
"He went back to the Gryffindor Tower," she replied. Harry gave her a bewildered look.
"Where are we?"
"We're in the Head Quarters. This is the tower for Head Girl and Head Boy."
"Who's Head Boy?"
"Oh, that's right. You barely looked around the room before you crashed out on my new couch," she said with a sniff.
"Answer please…" Harry droned. Hermione frowned at his attitude.
"Draco Malfoy."
"Bloody fucking hell, I'm sorry Mione," Harry said, sitting up on the coach. She crawled beside him and leaned into his lap.
"It's okay. He's very polite, actually. No more mudblood this, or mudblood that…" she whispered. Harry shrugged.
"He's still a prick."
"I suppose…he's just different. I know his mum died, it could have changed him. His father married Blaise's mum."
"That's ridiculous…but I heard she's mad beautiful."
"She is," Hermione said with a nod.
"Fuck, what time is it?" he stood from his seat when he realized the intense calculating stare Hermione was giving him.
"Harry, we need to talk!" Hermione cried.
He turned around and glared at her. "About what?"
"About this abrupt change of yours…what's happened to you? When we defeated Voldemort, things were scary, I know."
"You don't know…" he said, pacing in front of her fireplace. "You don't fucking know half of it." He pulled out the band that was holding his ponytail back and a flood of jet black hair fell in choppy loose curls to his shoulders. He then ran his long fingers through his hair. There was a loud gasp, and Hermione and Harry jumped, looking wildly around.
"What was that?" Harry asked, peering about the common room.
"I don't know…it was probably nothing," she responded unsurely. She gave Harry a thorough glance over, and realized that he strikingly resembled Sirius. "Oh Harry," she said, reaching out for him. He took a step back. "What's happened to you?" she whispered.
"Nothing has happened to me, how many times do I have to tell you this?"
"BECAUSE!" she shouted as her eyes fluttered, and she took a few deep breaths, "because, Harry, you're different, and I've heard all these rumors about you, and I just want to know what the fuck is going on!" she cried. She pulled her feet up on to the couch, wrapping her arms around her legs.
"I have to go." Harry began to leave the common room, but Hermione leaped to her feet this time, and grabbed his arm.
"You're not going anywhere!" Hermione shouted. She quieted, however, when she saw something on his arm poke from under his short-sleeved shirt. "Harry, I—" she started weakly.
Harry yanked his arm from out of her hands.
"Just sod off, okay Hermione?" he growled. "Just leave me the hell alone!" Harry stomped out of the common room, leaving Hermione behind to sit back on the couch, and place a hand on her forehead, waiting for the tears to come.
Draco had just been passing to use the loo, when he had stumbled onto the Golden Boy's argument with his loveable pet. He had to admit, Granger wasn't too bad to be around, and she had been pleasant with him, but he didn't like the idea of Potter and Weasley shacking up with her. It was disgusting to have so many Gryffindors around him all the time. However, when he had heard Hermione call him polite, he calmed towards the idea. Maybe she would keep them in their place, he thought.
He had quietly sat at the top of the stairs behind the common room, having full access to the bottom floor. He would be able to peer down and not be seen by the two feuding friends.
He contemplated whether or not he should leave, when he saw Harry pull his hair out from his band. When Draco saw the inky black river fall around Harry's face, he gasped. Harry and Hermione quieted, and he cursed under his breath as he surveyed the beauties of Harry Potter. An odd feeling began to grow in the pit of his stomach, and he shifted uncomfortably as he tried to crush the growing sensation. He was crushing over Hero-Of-The-Wizarding-World, Mr. Golden Boy, THEE Harry Potter. He hated it, and wasn't about to let it bother him. It was a simple discomfort that he would be able to destroy happily.
When he saw Hermione reach out to grab Harry's arm, he saw something red and black show from under his gray tee-shirt. He tried to look more closely at it, but he had yanked his arm out of her small hands.
She looked as if she would cry.
He looked like he could murder.
Draco was confused; he thought maybe Potter and Granger had a thing going on, which would explain her pressing attitude. But no boyfriend would talk to his girlfriend like that. When Harry left, Hermione sat back on the couch, and began to cry. Draco sighed at the deep loyalties that lied between Potter and his friends.
He hated their loyalties, and their strong ties. It was evident that Potter wasn't respecting those ties, he thought.
He hated Potter and his new look, new attitude. Draco turned around and went to his room.
One day you'll get sick of
saying everything is alright
And by then I'm sure I'll be pretending
just like I am tonight
Please don't get me wrong
-let this go.