This story is currently in a revision stage. If you've read it before, don't be surprised if some of the details have changed. I've kept to the nature of it, but some of the specifics simply weren't meshing. Thanks!
Disclaimer: The characters and any references to the books are purely J. K. Rowling's. I'm only responsible for the plot. Please don't sue... I don't have the money for that.
I believe one of the most dangerous forms of society is acceptance. Not acceptance itself, necessarily, but the tolerance and then the desensitization that results. The way we become so used to things we never before considered is inherently dangerous as humans, given we're beings formed on the basis of choice. We have a choice between who we are and who we become, even from birth. Some choices are limited. Some are more free. Some choose to limit themselves, and some choose to let themselves go wherever it is the wind decides to take them.
For my part, I've always chosen the path that restricts me more than sets me free. Growing up and especially throughout Hogwarts, I always found comfort in my self-imposed security. I sought out education and learning, in any form I could take it, above all else. I always wanted to better myself. I always wanted to help more people. I always wanted to be where I could be to do the most good for the Order and for Harry and Ron. I always, no matter the circumstances, valued my own education within the magical realm and the ability to defend against all Dark Arts above all else.
In any given situation, I've been so completely against the darker side of magic that I never before even considered it a possibility. I never gave it a second thought. I never, in all my years as Prefect, Head Girl, know-it-all Granger, considered any other option. I never thought of any other way.
That is, until now.
Let me start at the beginning.
I find myself in a little corner of Hog's Head with Ginny next to me and the two least likely males I ever expected to find in front of me.
I think what gets me the most is that Ginny knows, she knows, that if I knew who she was dragging me here to meet, I'd never have come. But she wanted to see Blaise. She wanted to see Blaise and she wanted to continue whatever it was they're starting, and she had to drag me into it so she could. His friend, she called him, had wanted someone to talk to while they did whatever it was they were planning to do. The night was supposed to start with drinks at Hog's Head (completely disregarding the fact that I don't drink on principle alone), then progress to wherever it was they wanted to progress.
I had made it perfectly clear, even while spelling my makeup and getting myself ready for the night, that I was under no circumstances going to just snog some disgusting bloke senseless because Ginny wanted her time alone with Blaise. I was not going to be made the harlot to whoever this bloke was. She nodded in agreement, promising that all would be well and she wouldn't leave me alone unless I was comfortable with him.
But she refused to tell me just who "him" was.
By the look on his face, Blaise hadn't told Draco Malfoy who I was either.
I entered the room, and his face mangled into some sort of snarl that I had a sneaking suspicion mirrored mine. I saw him turn to Blaise, whispering something fiercely into his ear that I was near-on certain had the word "mudblood" within it. Blaise whispered something back, just as fiercely, and Malfoy just glared.
The men stood as we entered, Malfoy extending his hand to me as though it pained him, flinching at my touch as I accepted the shake. "Evening, Granger," he forced himself to say.
"Evening, Malfoy," I said through my own gritted teeth.
"So how long has it been since you two were acquainted?" Blaise asked as we sat, obviously trying to alleviate the immediate tension.
"Not long enough," Malfoy muttered.
"I don't know for certain, Blaise," I said in a voice that was entirely too sweet, "that you could really call what Malfoy and I were acquainted. It was more of... let me think." I paused. "... mutual hatred?"
My glare was matched just as fiercely by Malfoy's, and that is how I found myself in this tense silence.
Ginny and Blaise are talking sweetly to one another, clearly more interested in the up and coming snog than in the awkward tension boiling between their two dinner mates.
Malfoy is downing firewhiskey like his life depends on it.
And here I am, calmly and serenely throwing daggers at the man across from me. How in the world did I let Ginny talk me into this?
And now I remember:
"Come with me, Hermione. It'll be so much fun," she said excitedly.
"I doubt that," I said politely, cradling my latest read. "I'd rather stay here with my book, thanks."
"But this whole thing with Blaise is so new, and so exciting, and so..."
"Deranged?"
Ginny looked shocked.
"Ginny, come on," I said quietly. "He's a Slytherin. He's a pureblooded bigot and you know that just as well as I do. He believes in nothing the same as we do, and he's purely and utterly content in his shallow nature."
"Hermione," she said, looking quite exasperated. "That was years ago. We graduated 5 years ago. Can't you leave the past well enough alone?"
"And how do you know he's changed all that much, Ginny?" I asked. "How do you know he's really all that different?"
"I don't," she admitted quietly. Then a gleam came to her eye. "But he sure is a great snog."
I rolled my eyes, regretting it the moment I agreed.
I regret it even more now, as I watch Malfoy's eyes get more and more bloodshot with each drink of the amber liquid. This is nowhere I ever wanted to be.
"Hey, I have a great idea," Blaise says a little louder than the tone he's been using with Ginny. His tone snaps me from my thoughts, and I look up at him.
Once he sees he has our attention, he says, "My flat is so much more comfortable than these blasted booths." He wiggles himself on the hard wood, looking discontent. "What say we take a trip there to continue?"
"More firewhiskey?" is Draco's only question. At Blaise's consent, he nods his head.
Ginny is, of course, in agreement, which leaves it to me.
I again find myself regretting the moment I agree.
Blaise's flat is tiny. Absolutely tiny, which is surprising.
I'm on a couch seated right next to Malfoy, and I'm squished up next to him because the couch is one of those two-cushion ones that looks like it once belonged to a full couch. Blaise and Ginny are sharing a chair not far from us, still enwrapped in one another disgustingly.
It's late.
I vaguely hear Ginny say something about needing to use the loo, and I see Blaise escort her out.
"They won't be back for a while," Draco mutters.
"I figured," I respond.
"Possibly not until morning," he adds.
"Of course," I say.
"Might as well get comfortable," he says.
I look at him questioningly and he shrugs, his eyes still bloodshot from the flask in his hand.
Neither of us say a word for a few moments. I feel him sink a bit deeper into the couch, making my cushion lean over to his. Our shoulders touch, and I'm too exhausted to consider minding the contact.
I wake up a little later to find a warm arm around my body. I'm uncomfortable with being so close to Malfoy, but it's cold and I can't see a blanket. He's warm, so I let his arm stay.
I look up at his face, and I'm surprised at how relaxed he looks. Not handsome, mind you, but just at rest. His jaw isn't set in anger; his brow isn't furrowed; his eyes aren't glaring; his lips aren't in that smirk. He's just at rest.
I hear a moan come from what must be Blaise's bedroom, and I cringe noticeably.
My movement wakes Malfoy, and he moves his arm a little tighter around me without opening his eyes.
Neither of us speak, though, and I soon drift off to sleep again.
A while later, I awake in a sort of daze. There is warmth around me, and I like the feeling. I feel a warm, caressing hand on my cheek, and I lean into it without opening my eyes.
I lean up as it guides me, feeling a man's cheek caress mine. I move my head gently in response, and I feel warm, soft lips on mine.
It's a sweet, gentle kiss, and I let it happen. My eyes are still closed, immersed in the sensation.
It's one gentle kiss after another in a seamless, flowing pace.
His lips caress mine, and mine caress his. The slight moisture between us is just enough, and yet nowhere near too much.
It's little kisses over and over, making my head spin.
I'm leaning into him, kissing and kissing and wrapping my arms around to tangle my hands in his hair.
My body lifts a little to join more seamlessly with his, and it's still the little kisses.
Over and over, and I lose track of time. It's the best kissing I've ever had, and I find myself not wanting to stop.
Slowly, though, my lips begin to separate from his.
My eyes begin to open, slowly, and I find myself looking into deep grey eyes clouded with some undefined emotion.
The shock hits me less than a second later.
I just fully, completely, enjoyed a slight snog with Malfoy.