A/N: For the purposes of this fic, Draco Malfoy is a Prefect in his sixth year. Other than that this is HBP compliant.
Why did she have to go down that corridor? Why?
Hermione Granger groaned inwardly as she twisted restlessly in her four poster bed. Pushing the sweat soaked sheets off her slim form; she squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to block out the images that flashed unbidden across her retina.
Why, indeed.
It had all started innocently enough. She had been on patrol that evening – a duty which, as prefect, she took very seriously. So seriously in fact, that she had gone above and beyond the call of duty.
It had been a quiet night. Other than a couple of reckless second year Gryffindors running amok in the 4th level corridor, there had been little or no activity.
Hermione had just started her trek back to the Gryffindor Common room when she had heard a suspicious noise not far ahead. Despite having already finished her patrol for the evening, the slender sixth year student had felt compelled to take a look.
How she wished she hadn't.
As she trotted down the darkened corridor, listening for the rustling of fabric which had initially caught her attention, she heard a muffled giggle not far ahead. Ahah! She had thought, more delinquents loitering around the halls this evening. And so she had followed her curiosity, had given into her inherent righteousness.
She had been walking quietly so as not to give the culprit and his accomplices time to disband, when another noise had issued from the silence. A moan, this time.
Hermione blushed to recall.
It had come from just ahead and to the left. As her eyes adjusted to the overwhelming darkness she had noticed the little alcove in the wall.
'Ungh.' It was a male voice this time.
Suspicion seeped through her veins as she heard the sound. This was quickly followed by horror as she peered into the alcove and realised what she was hearing.
Malfoy. It was Draco Malfoy leaning against the solid stone wall, his pale face contorted, his hands gripping the hair of a girl before him. On her knees before him.
Oh, Merlin.
She had stood and watched for a few more minutes, until the realisation of what she had witnessed began to sink in and, ignoring her responsibility to report them, she fled the scene as quickly as her feet could carry her.
Which had led her here, to her bed, twisting and turning as she had been for the last four hours and willing her brain to stop reliving the humiliating moment.
Each time she had closed her eyes, begging sleep to take her, she had been bombarded with images of the pale-skinned Slytherin.
He had still been wearing his uniform; the tie was loosely unknotted, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal the white and contoured marble of his chest. His eyes had been closed, his lips parted on a breath of agony so urgent it had made her tremble to watch.
All of these images haunted her, but not so much as the other part of him. The part she had never seen before. She groaned again. And the things that girl had been doing to him!
Feeling flushed and heated again, Hermione tried to dispel the fluttering sensation deep within her.
Merlin knew she would never look at Malfoy the same way again.
As Hermione hurried to the Prefect meeting, she reflected – rather dismally – on the week passed. She had taken to spending ridiculous amounts of time staring at one Draco Malfoy who, much to her dismay, had caught her looking on more than a couple of occasions.
The humiliation was utterly unbearable.
She hadn't really seen his reactions because she had looked away so quickly her head had spun. And now, she acknowledged, she would have to face him again. Only this time it would be from across the table rather than the Hall.
Flustered in a way that she never had been before this week, Hermione bustled into the room which was, thankfully, almost half filled.
The slender brunette took her seat next to one of the fifth year Ravenclaw prefects and smoothed out the innocuous wrinkles from her skirt. Once the meeting had started, she found it hard to concentrate on the voices of her Head Boy and Girl. They sounded garbled and distorted to her distracted ears.
After combating her own thoughts she glanced across the table at their favourite subject, only to realise that he had been staring at her. Her dark eyes widened slightly as she cowered under the intensity of his gaze.
His usually clear ashy eyes were darkened and cloudy and deeply disturbing. She glanced down to avoid the curious expression they held, and when she felt brave enough to return the gaze she realised that he was no longer looking at her, but had tuned back into the discussion. As she should have done.
Perhaps, she thought, my imagination is playing games with me. Her teeth worried her slightly pouted lower lip as she contemplated her possible insanity.
Before she had even realised it, people were filing out of the room gabbling away about goodness knows what. Sighing wearily at her uncharacteristic distraction, she collected her things and wandered out of the room.
Hermione closed the door gingerly behind her and was taken aback to see Malfoy leaning against the opposing wall. The image did not help the train of her thoughts.
'You scared me,' she mumbled, more to herself than anything.
His odd expression hadn't changed and he continued to look at her for (what she thought) was an inappropriately long amount of time without blinking.
'Did you want something, Malfoy?' One corner of his mouth raised itself into a hint of wry smirk, as though he found something amusing and didn't feel like sharing the joke.
She rolled her eyes in exasperation and turned to leave when his softly spoken words stopped her heart.
'I saw you, you know. That night in the corridor.'
She whipped around to stare at him in open-mouthed shock. 'Wh-what?'
He pushed off from the cold stone of the wall and wandered leisurely toward her. It was only when he was standing less than half a metre away from her that she realised how much taller he was than her. If he came any closer she would have to tilt her head just to see his face.
'I saw you.' He whispered the words with a quiet sort of triumph and nodded in the strangely intense manner that he seemed to have taken on in the last year.
She didn't say anything. Truth be told she was rather flabbergasted at that moment. And it was so unlike Hermione Granger to have words fail her.
'Erm,' was the best she could come up with, and even then it came out in a rather high-pitched squeak that made him smirk in a way she hadn't seen in so long.
He had moved closer when she wasn't looking, and she was now uncomfortably aware of the lack of distance between them. 'It's rude to spy on people Granger,' He whispered again, in his low and husky tones, 'didn't you know that?'
Oh Merlin. He was tormenting her, the bastard.
Despite the treacherously erratic beat of her heart, she managed to narrow her eyes into slits as she glared at him.
'You were out of bed,' she hissed. 'As a Prefect, I imagine you know the consequences if I reported you.' She raised her chin defiantly.
'Are you threatening me, Granger?' He asked the question coolly, too coolly for her comfort. 'Do you know what your problem is?' He said softly, she could hear the smirk in his voice even though it did not grace his features.
'Enlighten me,' she retorted, more than a little relieved to have commandeered her vocal cords once again.
He didn't say anything. He just stood there, so uncomfortably close to her that she could not help but to flush slightly at the memory of him. He was so very different now at 16 than he had been in his childhood. Certainly the arrogance was still there, it lingered in the expressions of his aristocratic visage.
His blond hair fell across his forehead and into his eyes in such a vulnerable way that she was almost tempted to brush it back. But she wouldn't, of course. His eyes had an almost tortured quality to them now. They were haunted, she realised, and something echoed deep within her.
'You're a paramour of virtuous goodness. But I don't buy it.' He looked her over rather mockingly and she wrinkled her nose the way she did when she was angry and confused.
She reached to slap him, as she had once before. It was a purely instinctive reaction – she hadn't liked his tone. What Hermione hadn't counted on was his quick reflexes. Quidditch, she thought scathingly. It really was the bane of her life.
His eyes narrowed at hers as he held her wrist over head. 'I didn't like it the first time you did that. Do you really thing I'll let you away with it again?'
For the first time in as long as she had known Draco Malfoy, fear licked at her smooth skin. He was infinitely larger, obviously stronger, and perhaps a lot more angry than she had ever seen him before.
He must have seen it in her eyes too, for he lowered his head so that he was almost on par with her height and pressed his face so close to hers that their noses brushed.
She stopped breathing altogether.
Holding his gaze she could see again that strange expression in his eyes and she knew immediately that he had not intended to touch her.
As though realising it at the same moment, Malfoy jumped back as though he had been burned, shook his head and stalked off down the corridor.
Utterly bewildered, Hermione pressed her weary form against the stone wall behind her and tried not to think about the recent upheaval in her life. Even more desperately she tried not to think of Draco Malfoy and the way his cool fingers had burned a trail across her skin.