Drakyndra, Evil Master of Fandom (drakyndra) wrote,
Drakyndra, Evil Master of Fandom
drakyndra

Passion

Well, here is a little cookie of the start of the fic I am going to use for my writing folio. Although my teacher liked the ones I had already written, she suggested that I write something that "shows rather than tells" what was going on. few suggestions later, and viola! So please, I would really like some comments on this, considering I have to finish the final copy to be marked in the next two weeks. It is a companion to Tale..., but you don't need to read it to understand what is going on. Oh, and I'm aiming for a vaguely disturbing sort of tone (blame Aldous Huxley and Brave New World)




The italics is past - in the 6th or 7th year of Hogwarts - and the rest is present - after Tale...

Passion

The first thing Hermione Granger notices as she comes to is the sound of rain dancing over glass.
The second thing she notices is that she has been tied to a chair.

The ropes itch vaguely on her arms, and the chair is hard, cold wood, with an annoying rough patch prickling half way down her back.

Her neck prickles too, as she feels the warmth of someone’s breath on her face.

Her eyes snap open, almost involuntarily, and she finds herself looking into the icy features of Draco Malfoy.
“It’s about time,” he hisses, and smiles like a cat.

He stands over her, and Hermione shivers.


* * * * *

As she moves impatiently through the crowd by the bar, Hermione shakes her hair out, flicking tiny droplets of water, and causing it to stand on end. An old man splutters a she pushes past him, causing him to spill his beer, but she ignores his protests and strides over to a dark hallway.

She pauses slightly, but then breathes in and pushes open a door with a loud creak.

The room beyond has the look of somewhere forgotten – dingy, old-fashioned wallpaper and bad lighting. Hermione pushes the door closed, which does little to shut out the sounds of the pub.

She shivers a little as she walks towards the bed.

“What’s the matter, are you cold now?” Draco drawls, looking up from where he is sprawled over the bed. “Maybe you should actually bring a cloak next time you go for a walk in the rain.”

Hermione doesn’t reply, but simply drops her bag beside the bed with a thud.
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