Hate isn't just a word [Hermione]

[DRACO MALFOY]

At first, there was only muddled confusion as the young Deatheater stared at the innocent looking cupboard. His wand was held in his hand, pointing at the thing, wavering slightly. At that point, it was the only sign of distress from Draco Malfoy. His face was cleared of emotion, silver eyes shining with some of that confusion as he continued to not move his gaze from the cabinet. But soon that confusion melted away to be replaced by a a bolt of lightning flashing through his ribcage. The anger sliced his veins and poured into him. His pounding heart pushed the thicker then blood substance to the rest of his body, the searing heat of fury making him feel the sudden need to hit something and move. Draco spun on his heel in a smooth circle, and he slammed his hand down on a nearby table, dropping his wand to the floor with a clattering sound. The youngest Malfoy snatched it back up and stuffed it unceremoniously into his school robe before he began to maneuver through the towering walls and stacks of things that made up this room, his feet pounding furiously and silently on the floor as he quickly found his way through the the Room of Requirement. Not an easy accomplishment, for most, but he spent so much time there nowadays he knew it well.

Draco didn't understand. He just didn't understand why the spell wasn't working! He'd gotten so far, gotten past so many other problems, and then this one bloody spell wouldn't work. Draco had tried it numerous times, but it didn't seem to have effected the vanishing cabinet he had been trying to mend all year at all. And if he couldn't mend it, he'd couldn't get the Deatheaters inside Hogwarts, and then how would he kill Dumbledore? If Draco didn't complete his mission... But right now he wasn't thinking about that. Now his fury at himself and at Borgin and Burke for telling him to use what was surely the wrong spell was taking up the space in his mind, reducing the endless buzzing that constantly hummed there. It told him so many things, it told him of what he had to do, what would happen if he didn't do it. It reminded him he couldn't stop thinking about it, even for a moment. His mission was becoming his life, but if that was what it took to succeed, Draco had no choice. Even now, when the noise had quieted somewhat to be replaced by hot rage, he could still hear it.
Buzzing. Reminding him.

As the blonde haired boy emerged on to the 7th floor- the door rapidly shrinking into nonexistence behind him- he found himself oblivious to the world. He stormed in silent rage through that halls, down the stairs. Racing past the seventh and sixth floors, moving even quicker through the fifth where prefects surely were wandering; he soon found himself on the fourth floor of Hogwarts. Draco could feel his racing heart quiet as his thoughts picked back up. His feet slowed as they led him to the library, and he pushed open the door with the intent to find something. The quiet books seemed to whisper to him, and Draco pulled his wand from his pocket with a hiss, "Lumos," and he slowly found his way to a specific section of books on mending magical objects. As he searched, Draco only grew more and more frustrated. Why couldn't he find anything! He slammed a book back into a shelf, perhaps too hard and loud for comfort, but he didn't care. He paused for only a moment to listen for the sounds of approaching foot steps, but when none came immediately, he quickly began to weave out of the row of shelves, finding himself at the front of the library, feeling only more defeated. When his wand light rested upon a thin rope cutting off two long shelves, the Slytherin paused.

It was unlikely he would find anything in the restricted section that would be on the topic he was so desperately searching late at night, but it couldn't hurt to take a look. Even if what he was looking for wasn't dark magic, it was certainly advanced at that and could go wrong if the caster didn't know what they were doing. Who knew what the insane librarian or old man thought wasn't appropriate for the majority of the school to read. Maybe, just maybe... Draco inched forwards, stepping over the faded rope with some excitement expanding in his chest at the hope of finally figuring out what spell he needed. He shined the light on the books, moving it slowly from one to another. The titles were mostly in foreign languages, but this wasn't his first time in the restricted section and he knew which books held dark magic and which ones didn't for the most part. His silver eyes picked over the volumes, searching for anything that might catch his eye. He reached forwards slowly, about to take one large, unfamiliar one out when he heard a noise and froze, thinking sharply, 'Nox.' His wand light extinguished, his shining eyes the only thing visible in the shadowed library. No doubt some nosy prefect or that filthy Squib and his cat had come after he slammed that book.

[[OOC: Sorry it's not great. I've been slowly recovering from lack of muse >.<]]

[Hermione Granger]

All was quiet as Hermione Granger trod the corridors of the Seventh Floor, walking their length and pointing her wand towards the darkest corners, checking they were empty and no misbehaving student was lurking in the shadows. Night had fallen and the curfew for her fellow schoolmates had come, along with it her Prefect duties brought her out to ensure it was respected. Unlike others, Ron for instance, Hermione didn’t mind patrolling and enjoyed all aspects of being a Prefect. It was a great honour and she intended to fulfill her job description to the very last line of the letter she had received the previous summer detailing what was expected from her. Turning the corner and casting the light on her left, a pair of glowering, painted eyes met hers. “Turn that out! We’re trying to sleep here!” the cranky inhabitants of a frame hissed, glaring at her from their worn canvas. “Patrolling” an unrepentant Hermione would reply quickly, the Prefect badge pinned onto her robes gleaming in the dim light. Aside from the complaining portraits and the drowsy armors that stirred every now and then, producing a metallic clanking that resounded through the halls, all was rather silent. She trusted Ron was patrolling that very same floor as well; sometimes she felt that reminding him of what the badge he wore entailed was part of her own duties, or at least his lazy and lenient attitude made it so.

Thinking the Seventh Floor to be covered, she ventured down the stairs, exploring the calm Sixth Floor and finding nothing out of the ordinary. After a loop around the main doors, she proceeded down the stairs to the Fifth Floor, which she could see was already well guarded. She glimpsed the swishing of Padma’s robes around the corner and waved to her before descending to the Fourth Floor, tracing her usual route around the halls. Perhaps one of the best privileges of being a Prefect was being allowed to wander through the magnificent castle at night, when everything was quiet and you could appreciate just how grand it was without the constant chatter and the groups of student crowding every corner. Its peaceful silence was disrupted by a sharp noise coming from the end of the corridor, where the Library doors Hermione had opened so many times stood proudly, guarding centuries of magical knowledge. Some of the books in there were funny and tended to move on their own, flying at passer-bys and whacking them in the head, trying in vain to knock some notions into their skulls. Nonetheless, she had to check. She doubted anyone would be lurking the aisles at this hour but she would never turn down a trip to the Library, even if it was to make sure it was absolutely empty. Her footsteps resounded against the floor as she made her way to the double doors and eased one open, peeking in into the dim darkness of the vast place. Unlike the corridors, the Library wasn’t illuminated at night. Hovering by the threshold, Hermione kept quiet and strained her ears, attentively examining the silence interrupted by the occasional light shuffling but no noise she would associate with a person reached her. Just when she was about to turn she had the impression of glimpsing a source of light down the very end of the farthest aisle on the left; as she turned sharply to assess whether it had been her imagination playing tricks on her, the door shut behind her with a loud click.

The light she had thought had been there immediately faded and she was swallowed into the darkness, the silhouette of shelves and desks clear against the dim moonlight seeping through the high windows. “Lumos” she whispered, the tip of her wand alight as soon as the words left her, eyebrows furrowing and eyes squinting suspiciously as she took a step farther into the room. Had she imagined it or was someone really out there? There was a way to know for certain and she was eager to try the spell she hadn’t had a chance to experiment yet. “Homenum Revelio” she uttered the words clearly, careful to pronounce them correctly. She had read about this charm which revealed human presence in the surrounding environment, it was rather useful and sneaky, detectable by the target only as a feeling of something swooping low over him or her. Expectantly, she scanned the air for the marker that would signal she was not alone; not a mere three seconds had passed when she spotted it, in the area where the source of light had been, hovering over the Restricted Section.

Wand held high, she strode towards the end of the aisle, heartbeat picking up in her chest before she stopped in front the thin rope that separated the Restricted Section from the rest of the Library. “Hiding is pointless, I know you’re out there” she informed sternly, her voice firm, as she pointed her wand to the torches that neatly lined the walls, which quickly grew afire and illuminated the Library. Whoever was there was in great trouble.


(OOC: Your post was brilliant! Sorry it took me so long to reply, been sick then busy and my muse is gone :/ I'm excited for this thread, hopefully it will revive my muse xD )

[DRACO MALFOY]

Click.

The distinct sound of a door shutting echoed throughout the large room, muffled only slightly from the thousands of volumes that resided in the library. It was in that moment Draco knew he was caught, and immediately his mind jumped back into high gear, whirring and spinning into action to think of a suitable lie to get him past whatever trouble he might be in. It wasn't hard, really, and within moments he'd find the solution to this particular problem. If only mending the cabinet or even just killing Dumbledore was that easy. But of course, if that was the case then he wouldn't have even been in the library that late night so the point was moot. Nevertheless, the young Deatheater stood still, not moving and barely breathing as his eyes stayed directed at the opening where he knew the end of the restricted section row to be. He could barely see here, and the towering shelves and piles of books had been turned into indistinct shadows and shapes. The library itself was much darker then the rest of the castle at night; for some reason the windows were positioned so very little of the night sky shined inside. Instead it was cloaked in dark shadows and the feeling of being watched that often came in a silent, dark place. However, soon enough this very same feeling was being interrupted with a different one instead. The feeling of something sweeping over him, pressing down on him lightly before finding it's way into oblivion once more. Draco paused, slightly unnerved by the unfamiliar feeling. It wasn't one he knew well, nor was it one he recognized, though he felt like he should have known it... but either way, it had passed, and now something else was interrupting the blanketed darkness. A light began to shine somewhere else in the room, reflecting into the restricted section only barely. It made shapes less blurry and he could definitely see the end of the row now, and might have even been able to make some sort of escape if given the chance. But soon it was moving closer, and then a wand was held in front of him. It was too bright for Draco to see who the face was, so he raised his own with a murmured, "Lumos," and he ducked around so the light wasn't shining directly in his eyes.

If the bushy hair hadn't given away who it was that decided to ruin what was left of the night for Draco, then the voice certainly did it. The youngest Malfoy, surprisingly, wasn't all that shocked to see that it was Hermione Granger herself who had interrupted his little nighttime research. Though he was quite irritated with it and called her a good number of foul names in his mind, fury once more filling him to the brim with boiling blood that seemed to want to melt through his skin and expose itself. Draco's hot temper had been getting the best of him lately, but he managed to suppress it, along with all the pain and things he really felt, because he knew he couldn't show that to anyone. Let alone her. He may have been having the hardest year of his life and possibly death, he may have changed completely and totally, and been forced to do things he never wanted to do, but one thing Draco had learned from it was how to hide his emotions. But nothing like that could be hidden indefinitely, and he knew eventually he would pay for all the bottled up feelings that resulted his very own Pandora's box that seemed to be lacking any bright side.... but at this point, that wasn't important. So he forced some of that arrogant glare back into his handsome face as he swaggered from the row and lithely stepped over the rope, "I was doing anything but 'hiding', Granger. I don't hide" His voice drawled with the slow tone specifically meant for when one was speaking to a small child, "I was doing my prefect duties. I assume you also heard the noise from the library?"

Draco paused for a moment, turning slowly to look back at her for a moment in a condescending way. He gestured to her alight wand, "For being an insufferable know it all- and a mudblood at that- you don't know very much about stealth, do you?" His tone had now changed to one of foul sarcasm and he allowed some amount of anger to seep through as he shook his head at her, his groomed appearance somewhat lacking from the time of night and overall state of Draco Malfoy's life. After all, he had spent a good deal of time skipping classes and meals, not to mention his nights were spent corrupted by nightmares whether he was sleeping or not. He didn't really have all that much time to put so much effort into his physical appearance anymore, and didn't really care that he constantly carried the look of a dead man. After all, if he failed his mission, that was what he would be anyways. A dead man. And at the way things were looking, Draco really wasn't sure how much longer he'd have to live. For the moment though, that wasn't who he was. Now he was just Draco, another Slytherin who hated mudbloods and Harry Potter and his friends, and it was a bit of a relief to be able to escape into this version of himself. Even if it was a kind of sick relief, because truly who would ever want to be Draco Malfoy, perhaps other then a few deranged fellow Slytherins?

[[OOC: Mine was brilliant? Trust me, yours was. If that's what you write like when you have a lack of muse, I can't imagine what you'd be like at your A game!]]