Here is another one-shot about Draco and Hermione. The romance isn't obvious - take it as the beginning of what will become a romance.
As always I hope my English isn't too bad. I apologise for the mistakes and hope they won't bother you too much in your reading.
The idea of this stroy came out of nowhere. I hope you'll like it!
Enjoy your reading! - and remember that a review always make an author smile =)
Elie
(This is AU, and the characters may be OOC)
Nothing is ever fixed forever
Draco growled and buried his head in his pillow. The sun was far too bright for his liking. Why was it shining anyway? Hadn't his curtains been drawn?
He was certain they had been, as sure as he was he'd gone to bed alone the night before. Then why was he feeling warmth from his left? The warmth of a body laying beside him, under the same covers as him, was it a dream?
The person with him suddenly turned in their sleep, unconsciously – however strongly - slapping him across the face.
"To hell!" Draco shouted, jerking up and throwing the arm away.
Who could dare? He glanced to his left and froze in shock. What was the Gryffindor girl doing in his bed?
He squeezed his eyes shut, opened them, closed them once again before looking back at the girl who wouldn't disappear no matter how many times he tried to make her. It wasn't a dream – or rather a nightmare. She was really there, in his bed, he carefully lifted the covers up, in her underwear!
Draco Malfoy jumped out of his bed, only clad in a green boxer. Nothing had happened, had it? No, otherwise he would know, but that didn't ease his worries for he couldn't recall anything linked to the sleeping girl.
He hadn't drunk before going to bed, he should be able to remember! Wait a minute, he did remember. He was certain he'd been alone, alone and in the dark – he never forgot to draw his curtains.
Then why wasn't he alone any more? Why were his curtains drawn open? And, above all, why was she there? If it came to public knowledge... He shook his head, the information couldn't leak out.
The girl hadn't stirred since she'd slapped him. Hopefully, if he spent enough time under the shower, she'd take the hint and leave. He'd rather not face her immediately.
While walking to the bathroom, Draco hoped his chance wouldn't let him down, for he absolutely didn't want to face her, even if such conduct would prevent him from knowing the truth – considering she knew it of course– it didn't matter to him – at least not for the present time. Perhaps was he suffering from somnambulism? He'd rather not know. He wasn't a brave Gryffindor, but a Slytherin whose self-preservation mattered more than propriety. He doubted she'd be happy to wake up in his bed. Draco had to admit the idea of facing an angry Gryffindor wasn't something very appealing, much less so early in the morning. He therefore disappeared from her sight without any guilt or regret.
However, when he went back to his room, he couldn't help but fear fifteen minutes – he'd really taken his time – might not have been sufficient for the girl to wake up and leave. Well, perhaps was she now awake and waiting for him, waiting for a confrontation? He shivered, almost yielding to his desire to walk away. Breakfast was probably ready by this time, he could go to the Great Hall, sit down at the Slytherin table, and act as if nothing odd had taken place during the night.
Hold on a minute, was he fleeing? Impossible, Draco Malfoy never backed away from a fight!
His new found determination allowed him to turn the doorknob. It also allowed him to breathe evenly as his feet drove him inside the bedroom.
All that hesitation for nothing since the girl was nowhere to be seen.
Draco released a sigh he'd rather not have held, but right now his pride was the last of his worries. The girl had left, good, all the mystery remained, bad.
He stared at his sheets, as if they'd give him any clue about the situation, but the treacherous cloth kept silent, carelessly drawn over the mattress, it seemed to mock his ignorance.
Draco shook his head. "My! Pull yourself together man," he scolded.
He tried, he really tried, he was a Malfoy after all, a pure-blood and a Slytherin, cowardice might belong to his characteristics in others' opinions, still it was something he wasn't used to showing. Even when he was scared, he'd always act as if he wasn't. He'd always put on a show to protect his pride, to be – or at least to seem to be – worth of the statue life had provided him with.
However, right now, he feared it might be too much for him to face. He was angry with himself to have such thoughts. He had been a Death Eater for Heaven's sake! Well, it hadn't been his own choice any more when the time to adopt the mark had come. He'd accepted it because of his father, because he feared to refuse might incur the Dark Lord's wrath and put his mother's life – the only person for whom he really cared – in danger.
Draco had been forced to swear allegiance to the Evil, had it taken place some years earlier, when he was younger, he'd have certainly agreed to it without any resistance. He'd have been proud, even, to follow somebody who defended the nobility of blood purity, its superiority, with so much determination.
Unfortunately – or fortunately, it depended on which side you were – as he grew up, his thoughts changed, his convictions faltered, and he started to see the world differently.
When the Dark Lord had called him to his side, Draco was already doubting about this superiority he'd so often bragged about.
A certain Gryffindor bookworm wasn't totally stranger to his change of mind, for she'd proved him, again and again, that a muggle-born witch was able to be as brilliant, if not more, than most of pure-blood wizards.
Hermione Granger was brave, intelligent, strong-willed and never backed away from a challenge either. She'd been his foe since their first year, and his better ally at the same time. She was the one he had to thank for his change. He'd matured thanks to her, thanks to her defying attitude. She'd encouraged him to do his best, to seriously study if he didn't want to be left behind, to lose to a muggle-born.
Lucius Malfoy, his own father, had gained his respect by means of fear and threats. Hermione Granger, muggle-born witch with no fortune, had gained it fairly.
She was a hard-worker, he had been a spoiled brat. She was still a hard-worker, he hoped he'd started to become one himself. He thought he'd started to become one, he could see it in her eyes. When he caught them on him, they weren't filled with disdain, or anger, any more, sometimes he fancied he saw approval, no, it wasn't his imagination, there was approval in them. Years ago it wouldn't have mattered, but now was another story.
When he had decided to come back to Hogwarts for his seventh year, it'd been hoping it wouldn't be the same as the precedents. He'd hoped he'd be able to make everyone forget about the mark on his left arm. He'd stopped spitting hurting words to the people who annoyed him, opting to become more subtle, more ironic, but, above all, less despicable. He'd never cease to retort, or to criticize, because if he wanted to change, he didn't want to deny who he was.
Also, he'd started to search Hermione's company. He knew, by staying around her, he'd benefit from an almost-perfect model. His goal wasn't to become her, but to learn to get along better with the others. To his surprise, Hermione, when she'd become aware of how often he was in her surroundings, she hadn't told him to go away. On the contrary, she'd started to talk to him, to act with him as if he wasn't the Slytherin to avoid, but another ordinary student.
Little by little, a new bond had formed between them, an encouraging one.
Hopefully, whatever had happened during the night wouldn't destroy everything. Yeah, hopefully... He collapsed on his bed. Who was he kidding! Ruined. His efforts would be ruined. Their bond would be ruined. And Hermione Granger would go back to think about him as a cad.
The bond they shared – he couldn't call it friendship yet – had a great importance to him, because she was the only person – with his mother – of whom he found himself searching the approval. If the brightest student of Hogwarts deemed him worth to be befriended, then it'd mean he wasn't as rotten as everybody else was thinking.
He'd hoped his seventh year would be different, but thanks to whoever had decided Draco Malfoy didn't have the right to change, his seventh year would be the same as the others, only more solitary for most of his former followers now deemed him not to be worth of their admiration.
Draco Malfoy had been knocked off his pedestal, and would soon be nothing more than a... than a ferret. A dead ferret indeed, for the Gryffindors would never let him live after what he'd done – even if he didn't know what he'd done, they would certainly know. Dead. He was dead.
Potter and Weasley would kill him. Hermione would kill him. All the other Gryffindors would kill him because they always supported the Gold Trio.
While sitting up, he took a deep breath. "Might as well face Death sooner than later," he mumbled. "Or," he added after several seconds of silence, "perhaps later isn't so bad."
His hand went through his hair, ruffling them. He could skip breakfast and hope to avoid them all day long. If he was able to deal with his pride, the others and their opinions could go to hell. After all, who cared if he acted with cowardice?
"Draco Malfoy! Get the hell out of your den!" Perhaps the person behind his door did care.
The doorknob moved, and a smirk stretched Draco's lips as he imagined the frustration of the person blocked behind the door - he'd instinctively locked it after he'd been certain of the girl's departure.
"Malfoy!" the voice bellowed. "Malfoy! I know you're there!"
"What do you want Potter?" he said loud enough to be heard.
"To punch your face!" answered a voice which he recognised as being Weasley's.
'One left and the Trio is total,' Draco thought, half-amused, half-worried. He didn't give a damn about the boys, but the girl...
"Open that damned door!"
He'd rather not. Therefore he chose to stay on his bed.
"Malfoy!"
Their roars were a beautiful melody to his ears.
"Get out of there!"
They were screaming one after the other. Potter, then Weasley, then Potter again, there was no sound of Hermione though.
"You don't ask politely enough for me to comply," he finally said in a mocking tone – not his brightest idea for one second later he feared his door might burst open.
One of them might have thrown himself against it.
"Draco," he tensed, damn he'd still been hoping she wasn't around. "Please open the door,"the feminine voice asked.
She didn't seem to be angry, weary perhaps, but not angry. It was rather encouraging. He hesitated a little before finally giving in to her demand. If she was there, and wasn't angry, he had a chance to survive.
He went to unlock the door – his last shield against the Gryffindor boys' wrath – when a question struck him. How many were they in reality behind the wood? How many of them, of the Gryffindors, were waiting for him to go out?
Draco squeezed his eyes shut. He was being paranoid. Certainly, they didn't need to call for reinforcements, they'd actively participated in the Dark Lord's downfall, their being afraid of him - a mere ferret - was as much ridiculous as improbable.
"Have a good trip to the gallows Draco," he nevertheless murmured to himself.
The wooden panel moved to reveal two furious pairs of eyes. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were glaring at him with all the anger and irritation they were able of. If eyes could kill, Draco thought, then he'd already been laying on the floor. What a glorious end indeed!
He glared back at them. A Malfoy, ferret or human, never died without fighting.
"You son of-" Ron was about to punch him when a hand firmly grabbed his arm.
"No Ron!"
Draco was a little surprise. He didn't think she'd have stopped the Weasel – he might have matured, but his opinion towards the ginger-haired boy hadn't changed, the same went for his glasses-holder friend.
"But he-"
"You've promised you'd listen to me before doing anything stupid!"
Ron frowned. "But to punch that ferret isn't stupid, this is the right thing to do! And I should have done it earlier!"
Draco held back his tongue with difficulties. He had some well-chosen retorts on his mind, but since the situation wasn't in his favour, he considered it wiser to show some self-control.
"No! For Heaven's sake Ron! I allowed you to come – and believe me I understand how wrong I was – to avoid any misunderstandings, not for you to take it out on him!"
"But-"
"I said no!"
Draco might have laughed at them if he wasn't the subject of their quarrel. He'd love to cut them off, or simply go back into the bedroom, but she'd said she was there to avoid any misunderstandings, therefore he guessed she knew something about the night they had – he swallowed hard – spent together, and he would be really pleased to know why he seemed to be deserving a punch straight in his face, and two angry Gryffindors at his door. Pleased indeed!
"She didn't come back to Gryffindor yesterday," Harry suddenly started to explain, making his two friends stop their bickering. "The other girls decided to wait for the morning before telling us. She could have come back in the night. She didn't. Then, we searched her all over the castle, and finally found her going out from Slytherin."
Harry stopped, probably expecting Draco to say something, unfortunately the man didn't have anything to say for he was waiting to know the rest of the story – a story in which he'd played a role although he had absolutely no idea of which role it had been, but he couldn't tell them that, could he?
"She looked pale and scared, almost sick," Harry began again after several long seconds, "and wouldn't speak to us at first. We were having breakfast when she suddenly got up from her seat and claimed she'd somebody she needed to see. That somebody turned out to be you."
"Harry," she pleaded.
She had no control over the situation and was beginning to think she should have delayed her explanation for later – when the two boys would have been busy in their homework for example.
"She agreed to take us with her-"
"What a great idea indeed," Draco couldn't help but scoff.
Wasn't the situation looking totally ridiculous? Couldn't the Boy-Who-Lived speed up a little and stop beating around the bush?
Draco had to use every ounce of his self-control not to scream"What the fucking hell did I do?".
"She agreed to take us with her," Harry contemptuously repeated, "and explained us where she'd spent the night, or rather with who." He stopped again.
Draco wondered if he was supposed to say something, to deny the facts perhaps, but how could he do so when he still had no idea of what the facts were? He merely shrugged and waited for the boy to continue.
"Don't you have anything to say?" Ron spat.
"I'd like to, Weasel," Draco sneered back, his patience was wearing thin, "unfortunately I don't know what I could say because-"
"He did nothing wrong," a feminine voice coolly cut him off.
Four pairs of eyes suddenly jerked towards the newcomer.
"Draco Malfoy did nothing wrong," the woman repeated, not at all disturbed by their intense attention.
Ron took a step forwards. "Nothing wrong? Nothing wrong?" he shouted. "He lured Ginny in his bed! In his bed, damn it Hermione! You can't tell me he's innocent!"
Hermione wearily sighed. "Don't you think it's time to tell them the truth Ginny?"
The younger girl blushed. She knew she should have talked earlier, but shame had prevented her from doing so, shame and fear, how would her lover and her brother react to the truth? She swallowed hard. Hopefully, Hermione would be able to calm, no, to control them.
Ginny took a deep breath. It'd really be difficult to make them accept the truth, for her ending in Malfoy's bed was all her fault since he hadn't been the one to make her drink, and drunk, nor had he been the one to open her his door, and much less the one who had lifted his covers for her to lay under. No, Draco Malfoy had done none of these things. Her friends however, she'd make sure they'd regret their little prank.
What should have been a nice party outside the castle had quickly gone out of control. Ginny knew alcohol would be brought - she'd helped to hide it from Hermione's eyes – she had even planned to drink some. What she hadn't planned however was for her friends to make her drink only alcohol – they had taken care to replace all her other drinks with it.
Well, they hadn't been so mean as not to drink alcohol themselves, and the whole group had soon only been composed by drunk girls.
And which game do drunk – or not – girls tend to play when they're having a private party? Truth or Dare of course!
Ginny inwardly winced. If only she hadn't chosen dare, if only her friends had chosen another dare than "Go and sleep – more if you want, you're a grown-up girl after all, but we doubt Harry'd be pleased – with Draco Malfoy." and if only her mind had been clear enough for her to say "I can't" rather than "I will", then no mess would have been created.
When Harry and Ron had followed her to Slytherin dungeons, she'd told them she'd to speak with Draco, she'd to tell him he didn't need to worry, for her presence had certainly astonished him. They had hurried her to say more, she'd given in to Harry's pleading eyes and admitted she'd been in the blond-haired boy's room – fortunately his room-mates had been absent for the weekend.
And then, Ginny thought, she'd lost all control. Harry and Ron had immediately decided Draco was guilty – of what exactly it wasn't clearly defined, but it didn't matter –, quickened their pace and reached his door before she could have explained the truth.
Since she had opened his door, fallen over whatever had laid on the floor, clung to the curtains to regain her balance, undressed and lifted the covers to lay beside him, their assumption that he was the culprit was entirely wrong, for she was the guilty one.
"I'm sorry," she sheepishly murmured once she'd ended her story.
Her eyes were staring at the floor and would probably not turn away from it before a long time.
Harry and Ron's mouths were agape. Hermione didn't look surprise – Ginny's friends had only told the boys she was missing, because suffering from hangover they hadn't been able to remember exactly where they'd sent the ginger-haired girl, and when their minds had cleared enough for them to have precise memories, they had deemed it wiser to run to Hermione rather than to the boys.
As for Draco, he was of the verge of hilarity. He'd been so worried, thought he was dead, feared his last year at Hogwarts might be doomed when, in fact, all he could be blamed for was not to have woken up when Ginny had entered his room, one minute, how could she have-
"But the door was locked, how did you enter?" he asked.
"Drunk Gryffindors remain Gryffindor students. And Gryffindor students are smart," Hermione answered with a smirk.
Draco only frowned.
"Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" Ron's mind was finally working again. "You mean the ferret is," he took a deep breath, "you mean he's innocent, and that you are the one who went to his room... in his bed... Merlin Ginny! I can't believe you!"
Ginny winced. She slowly raised her head to her lover, perhaps Harry'd be more understanding. But, she didn't seem to have more chance with him.
"You drunk? You were drunk?" Harry asked, astonished.
Ginny winced again, then turned to Draco, however the frown on his face dissuaded her from saying anything – even though the frown wasn't destined to her – she finally glanced at Hermione with pleading eyes.
Hermione sighed. She should have listened to her intuition and gone with the girls. They wouldn't be having such a useless conversation on a Sunday morning – to say she could be peacefully reading! – if only she'd followed them.
"Ron, Harry, go back to the common room. Ginny, your friends must be at the infirmary, you should join them, I'm sure you've a big headache too. And," she looked at Draco before facing back her friends. "Go. I'll join you later."
"Wait a minute! I can't believe the ferret is innocent!" Ron shouted.
"Watch your mouth Weasel," Draco growled.
Ron came closer to him, his fist raised in mid-air. "Don't you-"
"Ron! The common room, now!"
He turned towards Hermione, ready to defy her, until his eyes met hers.
"Watch your back Malfoy," he spat in a last threat before walking away.
Harry didn't need to look at Hermione to know he also had to leave, after Ron would be a wise idea, for all of them knew that nobody knew what Ron was able to do when in such a state of anger.
"I'll see you later Hermione. You too Ginny," he added in a lower tone.
Ginny feared he might be really upset with her, but the way he gently caressed her back on his way reassured her. Harry wasn't angry with her, astonished, annoyed perhaps, but no lecture was to be feared from him. He wasn't her brother, he was her lover. He'd show more comprehension than Ron.
"You should go Ginny. Really, your eyes are too red for you not to feel sick," Hermione gently said.
The younger girl nodded. But before taking her leave, she wanted to apologise once again.
"I'm really sorry Draco," she hesitated to meet his eyes. "Thanks not to have, well, not to have kicked me out of your room."
"You're welcomed," Draco casually replied.
"Really, I'm sorry."
He waved her apologies away. Actually, he felt so relieved that to be angry at the Gryffindor girl hadn't even crossed his mind.
Ginny quickly walked away, but not before having articulated a silent "Thank you" to Hermione. The older girl had really saved the day.
When Ginny was totally out-of-sight, Hermione moved to face Draco, a smirk on her face.
"What?"
"You were scared," she simply stated.
"Sorry?" he exclaimed.
Hermione shook her head. "You were scared. You thought you'd done something wrong and that Harry and Ron would beat the hell out of you."
"Stop talking nonsense Granger!"
She took a step forwards, he refused to go backwards.
"This is no nonsense Malfoy. And we both know it," she murmured, her face dangerously close to his.
A shiver ran down Draco's spine. He could feel her breath on his lips. Brilliant, intelligent, and beautiful. Damn, his heart rate was quickening.
"You know Malfoy," she said while suddenly moving away, "I admit I'm quite impressed by you."
"Really?"
She nodded. "You didn't hex Ron," she commented.
"I would have loved to," he smirked.
Hermione laughed, her eyes were sparking with mirth.
"You know Draco," another shiver, add melodious voice to her characteristics. "I'm glad you come back from our seventh year."
He raised an eyebrow in surprise, he didn't expect these words to come out from her mouth, not when they hadn't reached the friendship step yet. "Really?"
"First, I was afraid you might still be a spoiled brat. But now, I admit I've changed my mind." He was about to smile, when she added, "you're still a brat, but less spoiled."
He gasped. She winked at him. "Perhaps, by the end of the year, you'd have changed into a proper kid."
He caught the hint, for it wasn't the first time since school had started again, that they were having that kind of discussion.
"I doubt it," he replied with a smirk. "With who would you bicker if it wasn't with your favourite spoiled brat?"
Hermione laughed again. He was right. If she didn't want the former Draco Malfoy back, she willingly agreed to say she liked the new one. He hadn't given up on all his bad habits, and she wouldn't wish for it. As he had just said, what would she do if he became a proper kid? Who would she bicker with?
She loved bickering with him for it always turned out to be an interesting battle of wits.
Could have she believed she'd, one day, be pleased in Draco Malfoy's presence, by Draco Malfoy's presence? She'd have asked to see it in order to believe it, better had happened, for she was experiencing it right now.
There was no doubt she was willing to befriend him – weren't they already friends? in their own special way admittedly, but friends nonetheless.
As a bookworm, Hermione'd read many novels, romance novels in which former enemies became friends, then more, or jumped directly from foe to something stronger than what a friendship allowed two beings to be.
Would it be the same for them? As she let her eyes wander on him, the idea didn't seem as improbable as she'd always thought it to be. She didn't get that idea out of nowhere, no, she knew herself enough to be aware of the changes in her body when the young man happened to be in her surroundings, she knew what it meant.
Since their return to Hogwarts, five months ago, he'd changed a lot, he'd probably started to change before that time, though it hadn't been as obvious as it was now.
Draco Malfoy had changed for the better. And Hermione Granger would gladly acknowledge it.
He wasn't only a very attractive young man, but also somebody she knew she'd always have things to share with – by means of conversations or quarrels. In a way, Draco released her from her stress with his teasing, she could take it out on him, for he never failed to do the same, and now that he'd started to study seriously, Hermione's first place could be put in danger – what was better than a little challenge to make progress? She still had some time before it happened though.
Since the beginning of that year, they'd created a new bond. It'd started with polite civility – for none of them wanted to be foes any more, then true cordiality – their partnership in Potion had finally turned out to be a wonderful idea, and now a friendship was slowly but surely being built between them.
Would that evolution continue? Would there be more? Hermione couldn't exclude that possibility, unable to deny she'd already fancied them together.
What they'd been – childhood foes - didn't matter any more.
Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had discovered that nothing was fixed for ever, that life was quick - never stopped, nor went back – and that if you wanted something to happen you might better not wait for Fate to hear your wishes but rather act by yourself.
Therefore, whatever her friends would say, Hermione was determined to leave all her old opinions and certainties behind, she wanted to learn to know the new Draco Malfoy without their former disagreements to hinder her.
Truth was, Hermione had a crush on him.
Little did she know, the same went for him.
Perhaps, if they kept on growing closer – as they'd surely do for they were both willing to succeed in getting along very well, they'd realise what really existed between them.
One could not have changed their mind and kept thinking about the other as a foe, but no, their change of opinion had been the same. Weren't they lucky?
A cocky ferret – he'd always be one – and a fiery bookworm, what a couple they would do!
Whether shielded by a book, or under the cover of a teasing, their real meeting, the final step of their bond, would certainly take place in the near future, and then would start one of the most interesting – and surprising – relationships than Hogwarts had ever known.
The infamous Slytherin ferret and the famous Gryffindor bookworm, the rest of the Hogwarts population would probably shelter, if their surviving the war against the Dark Lord was a reality, whether they'd survive Hermione and Draco's relationship – their daily bickering – was another story.
The End