Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Pause.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Pause.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Pause.
Scratch, scratch, scra–
"For Merlin's sake Granger take a bloody picture just please. . . Stop. The bloody. Scratching!"
Said Granger squeaked and something spilled.
"Oh no!" She cried, her mouth hung open, horrified. "My essay!"
She scrambled for her wand (Why isn't it within reach? She scolded herself in the confines of her head) and found it buried deep within her bag (she found it underneath the couch).
She rushed to her essay, shouted the spell and frantically waved her wand in a flimsy attempt to save her essay, which was now covered in black ink.
"Scourgify!" She shouted, "Dammit, SCOURGIFY!"
A jet of red light shot out from her wand and in a flash, her essay was reduced to nothing more than bits and ash.
She wailed.
"MALFOY!"
She whirled around to face the blond man and found him sprawled across the couch with an arm placed lazily above his face so as to cover his eyes. Not moving, Malfoy sighed and mumbled out of the corner of his mouth, "What now,Granger?"
"YOU RUINED MY ESSAY!"
He flinched. "Merlin dear woman, stop shouting." He whispered, willing her to keep her voice down by setting an example.
Hermione just stomped her foot. She was well aware that she was yelling and knew that she shouldn't have been. Though. . . She was also well aware that it irked him. And whatever irked Malfoy was something she found worth continuing.
"YOU RUINED MY ESSAY! DOES THAT NOT MEAN ANYTHING TO YOU?"
He sighed again. Take it from Hermione Granger to completely ignore anything he had to say.
"So, make a new one. I'm pretty sure you're completely apt to do so."
"OH I AM MORE THAN 'APT TO DO SO'! BUT I WOULDN'T HAVE TO IF YOU HADN'T BLOODY RUINED THE FIRST ONE!"
She crossed her arms and glared at him. Internally, he rolled his eyes.
"If there's anyone ruining anything here then it's YOU! How could I have possibly ruined your damn essay, Granger, if I have done nothing but lay here, happily lost in my dreams! Which is really difficult given YOUR INCESSANT SCRATCHING AND YOUR STARING!"
. . .Well, so much for not shouting, he thought.
"Me? You dare accuse me of ruining something? What could you possibly have that can even be ruined?"
Then, she rethought his statement and widened her eyes.
"Wait. . . S–Staring?"
He smirked and at the sight her blood boiled and her lips pursed.
"Yes Granger, that's exactly what you were doing. Staring. At me."
She spluttered and her already boiling blood spread right to her cheeks and down to her neck.
"I – I. . ." She gulped, and struggled to think of what to retort. "I did no such thing! Besides, you can't be sure, your eyes are closed!" She squared her shoulders and placed her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. His eyes had indeed remained shut the entire time.
"Granger. . ." he started, drawing out the e in her name, "I could feel the intensity of your gaze. You were practically eye-raping me."
She blushed. Like, really blushed, harder than she already was which was incredulous! Surely she couldn't be any more red, in her current, flushed state.
"Well! I wouldn't have been staring if you would just sit somewhere else, not directly in front of me and, oh yeah, what was that other bit? IF YOUR UPPER HALF WEREN'T COMPLETELY BARE!" She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, it's nearly November. Who goes around without a shirt on in November?"
"Granger, it's Hogwarts. Ever heard of heating charms? Fireplaces? They're very common in the Wizarding world, fireplaces too are all the rage for centuries now in the Muggle world, I hear."
Hermione huffed and proceeded to completely ignore that jab at her intelligence. She continued.
"And there was no eye raping going on!"
His eyes shot open and instantly, he was on his feet, his face merely inches from her own and his eyes shining with a brightness that reminded her of a little boy on Christmas day opening his first present. It sort of left her breathless and spinning.
The thought, she meant. Not his proximity. Definitely not his proximity.
"So you're not denying it?" His smile was so wide the corners of his eyes curved upwards, making smiley faces of their own. She thought the look quite lovely on him and that he should do it more often.
"By Jove, Granger, you were staring at me!"
Then she frowned and remembered who she was thinking what about. She knew she was acting like a petulant child but how could she not when she was dealing with an equally petulant and spoiled brat…
…A petulant and spoiled brat who happened to look handsome even if his face was nothing but a blank, emotional canvas that became even more breathtaking when he smiled.
She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts and took a step back.
"Yes. I mean no, I mean," She took a breath, "Of course I'm denying it! What reason could I possibly have to look at your vile face, much less stare at it? It's almost laughable."
As if to prove a point, she threw her head back and gave a nervous laugh. You liar, a voice whispered to her in her head, given what she was just thinking two seconds ago. Malfoy however, grinned in a, to her, decidedly wicked manner.
"I didn't mean my face, though, that too is completely understandable. I meant, my body."
She crossed her arms – feeling very uncomfortable and flustered because he had the upper hand in the situation (truly no use denying it now!) – and turned her head to the side then said, "I'm not talking to you."
He apparently found her amusing for he chuckled. It was such a rich and enchanting sound that she found her head slowly turning towards him again, her glare faltering and her gaze, dropping. . .
"You're doing it again."
She groaned. "You're right in front of me! Where else could my gaze have landed? And if you would just wear a bloody t – shirt!"
"Ah," He wiggled a finger in front of her face. "But you could have just easily averted your eyes to the wall, or the floor. Or just kept them to your essay!"
"But. . . But," She shook her head.
"But what?"
His eyes suddenly widened and his face broke out into a dazzling grin that she compulsively felt like shielding her eyes. Then quickly realized the childishness of that.
"But Merlin's smelly, poka – dotted, underwear. Hermione, YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH ME!"
"I most certainly am NOT!"
"No, you are! You truly, really, honest–to–Merlin are!"
Proving to herself that she truly was regressing to a five-year-old, cantankerous child, Hermione stomped her foot.
"Gods, only in true boy fashion could you interpret a NO as a bloody YES!" She threw her hands in the air in exasperation. "So I lingered maybe a second too long at your bare torso and suddenly I'm irrevocably smitten? Though I know it may be difficult for you, don't be so egotistical, Malfoy. I'm not in love with you! I'm not, I swear!" Hermione sneered, lacing as much disgust to her voice as she spat, "I could never be in love with someone like you!"
For a moment there, the playful twinkle in his eyes vanished. She realized what she said and remorse quickly spread throughout her body like wildfire. His blank stare was present only for a moment though, when a smirk once again found its way back onto his lips. Her remorse suddenly replaced by suspicion.
He sure bounces back quickly, she thought.
Hermione took another step back, re–noticing their proximity and cleared her throat, eyes downcast.
"Ok, that was harsh but look I–How did you even come to that conclusion–"
"Save it, Granger."
She watched as he tapped his pointer finger to his chin, his eyes closed as he breathed in and out deeply. He remained like that for at least two minutes and she contemplated on whether she should shake him, fearing he had fallen asleep. But then his eyes flew open and stared directly into hers.
She didn't want to do it again, but she really couldn't help it. She blushed.
If Hermione was being honest with herself, she could confidently say that she wasn't in love with Malfoy. However, that didn't mean that she wasn't the least bit attracted to him because then, that would be a lie. Though his personality left nothing to be desired, he was gorgeous, in every. sense. oftheword.
He had fine, platinum hair that was fashioned in a way that it seemed like he just got out of bed and lazily fell into his eyes if he so much as curtly nodded his head. His eyes were the most striking (and admittedly, her favorite) part of his face. They were a calm and cool grey, piercing and intense in its gaze. He had a pointy nose, a strong jaw. . . He had the face of a well–bred aristocrat.
Hell, Malfoy was the poster child for aristocracy.
No one could really help it if they were attracted to him so she couldn't really fault that part of herself.
So when he uttered. . . those words, she thought it was just that side of her playing tricks with her senses.
"PARDON?"
Draco's smirk widened and he eyed her, his head cocked to the side and his right eyebrow raised as if he was thinking she was the daftest thing to ever walk this earth. Which he probably was thinking.
"Are you deaf? Never mind, apparently you are."
"Err. . ." (she still didn't. . . couldn't. . . wouldn't, acknowledge what he said) "Pardon? I swear I heard you say I'd–"
"Don't worry love," he grinned at her. "You heard perfectly well."
At first all Hermione could do was stare. She resisted the urge to scratch her ear in the hopes that it would clear her hearing but that was unlady like so she didn't do it. Instead, Hermione did the only logical (at least, in her opinion) thing to do.
She laughed.
"You're. . . You're. . . You're hilarious, Malfoy!" Spluttered Hermione when her laughing had ceased enough for her to say a couple words. "Good one! For a second I thought you were being serious. Merlin." She continued to laugh.
Malfoy just shook his head and tapped her nose. "And you're adorable Granger." He said dryly, "On the contrary, I was being perfectly serious. Am being perfectly serious."
At that her laughter ceased entirely and she looked intensely at him.
No way, she thought, this is a trick, no way he said–
"One day, you're going to marry me Hermione Granger." Said he with his mouth by her ear and his voice a husky whisper.
And before she could ask him what the hell he meant, much less get a word in, he threw her one final smirk and was off in his room in their shared Heads' dormitory, the door shutting quietly behind him.
Hermione stood frozen on the spot, her jaw dropping precariously to the floor and her face beet red (will her blood ever cease rushing?). She blinked slowly and touched her head, wondering if she was dreaming. She looked around her in a daze when she noticed something on the table where she was previously doing her work.
Where there were once ashes, there was now her essay, perfectly fixed and free of excessively, splattered and spilled ink. Across her, folded neatly on top of the spot where Malfoy was napping, was a shirt.
His shirt.
All of a sudden, everything that happened during the past fifteen minutes rushed to her and her blood boiled.
She took the shirt and chucked it at his door.
"So is that a proposal!" She screeched angrily in the direction of his room.
"YOU ARROGANT PRICK!"
She seethed.
"Stupid Malfoy."
A/N: Nearly done with this. I have been working on it for a while and just wanted something light. I hope you guys enjoy it, if you could let me know your opinions in a review that would be great.
Thank you and have a pleasant day!