Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the lines from The Winter's Tale by William Shakespeare. I do own the riddle, however.
Notes: A DHr at last! Takes place around fifth year, maybe? No plans to continue it, for now.
He would have missed her all together if her shoulder hadn't bumped into his on his way to lunch. A split second—not even enough time to turn around and shove her back, but long enough to hear what she was saying.
"Never tires and never quits…"
The girl was talking to herself. Draco stopped in his tracks, but she was already gone. The bustle of students headed toward the Great Hall—his intended destination as well—made it hard to spot the Granger. Frustrated, he darted into an alcove out of the crowd's path and squinted his eyes down the hall. There she was, bushy hair in full bloom—going in the opposite direction of the Great Hall, scampering away with her head down low.
What was she doing? His eyes narrowed. The impulse to follow her warred with the sudden rumble of his stomach. Lunch was being served; would he have enough time to get back and snag anything?
The Granger turned a corner, lost to view, and that decided it for him. Giving one last, longing glance towards the Great Hall, Draco shouldered his book bag more securely and jogged in the direction she had gone. Knocking a few first years to the ground made his stomach feel better.
When he turned the corner of the hall, the students seemed to disappear. Everything was silent and still. The armored statues stood at attention and not a painting twittered. Most of them liked to visit the corridor outside the Grand Hall at lunch. A flicker of a black robe in the distance caught Draco's eye before a door quietly closed.
Gotcha. Draco smirked and casually made his way over. He paused in front of the door to smooth back his hair and straighten his robes. It wouldn't do to seem flustered upon his grand entrance. The door was unremarkable and unfamiliar. An abandoned classroom, perhaps? He smiled and opened the door.
To an empty corridor. He frowned. Sconces on the walls flickered as the door squeaked upon. At the end of the hall, a door lay ajar.
"Stupid Granger," he muttered and trudged after her. The door closed quietly behind him, of its own accord. He only gave it one nervous glance, then schooled his expression into something less frivolous. Something nicely aloof, to offset the shock that would undoubtedly suffice Granger's plain face. The end of the corridor loomed. Before he could second guess himself, he pushed the door open.
And there she was, huddled against a book case with a stack of books at her feet, reading.
She didn't look up, having probably not heard him. Draco was fine with this, for now. His eyes darted around the room, then rolled up in annoyance. It looked to be one of the side rooms of the library, alcoves set aside for students to study in privacy. Of course, of all the secret passages in the castle, the only one the Granger would know was one to the library.
A pretty unremarkable place to be instead of the Grand Hall, where lunch awaited. Draco scowled. What a waste of time.
He slammed the door behind him, smiling in satisfaction as Granger squeaked and dropped her book in surprise. Large, muddy colored eyes gazed at him with fear, but much too quickly for his liking, it turned to annoyance.
"What are you doing here?" she glowered.
Draco mimed examining the room. "I don't know. I thought it might be interesting to see where Potter's lackeys spent their hours scheming, but it looks pretty boring. I should have known better, considering I followed you."
Granger's cheeks flushed. "Well then the answer is clear. Stop following me and go crawl back into whatever hidey hole you came from." She snatched up her book, pulled it behind her back, and gave a pointed look at the door.
But Draco was looking at her hands. "What do you got there?"
Granger blinked. "Nothing."
Draco wasn't fooled. "Why not show me? Because it's some secret Potter plan?" He pulled his wand from his pocket.
Granger was on her feet, wand already raised. "This has nothing to do with Harry. More importantly, it has nothing to do with you, so why don't you mind your own business for a change?" She raised her nose haughtily. "Or is that too hard for a Malfoy?"
Well that did. Now he had to know; it was the principle of the matter. "Give it to me."
"No." She glared at him.
"Fine." His wand flicked out. "Petrificus Totalus."
She was fast, much to his chagrin. A cut of her wand and the spell bounced off, fizzing uselessly against a stone wall. Her lips had moved but he hadn't heard her over the hum of his wand. She must be whispering.
Draco smiled darkly. Well, two could play at that game. With a whisper, another spell flew.
Lights winked in and out of the room as they dueled, he attacking and she defending. He grudgingly admitted she had a superb grasp of wand work, but she had no common sense at all. He was forcing her into the corner, and she hadn't even realized it. It was almost too easy. It was far harder to bite back a vicious smile of victory, something that would certainly alert her to what was up. Soon enough, when her back hit the wall, she gasped and he threw a spell. In a moment, she froze.
Draco flicked damp hair out his eyes and grinned.
"Were you taking notes Granger? Did you see how a real wizard uses his wand?" He approached her slowly, savoring her frozen expression, those wildly burning eyes. "Me, winning this, sort of validates everything I have been saying, hasn't it? A Muggle's role in wizarding society is fixed at the bottom—" his voice dropped to a whisper as he breathed into her ear "—and it always will be."
He pulled back and studied her face a moment. His smile was every bit voracious when he finally said, "You know, this is a good look for you, Granger. You almost look pretty." Her eyes flared and shockingly, a delicious thrill ran down his spine at the sight of it. With surprise he stepped back, then frowned and shook his head. Enough of that.
Fixing his gaze on her shoulder, he reached around and pulled the book from her stiff fingers. Shaking the book—dust plumed from its pages, to his disgust—he flipped to the cover page.
"'Riddles, Puzzles, and Folklore of the Fifth Century'? What is this?" He looked at her, but predictably, got no response. His eyes returned to the book, disappointed. "A very unimaginary title. Must be completely boring."
He was about to drop it and return to the dining hall when he noticed a bookmark, almost completely dislodged, stuck in the bottom half of the book. He flicked open to the page and studied the book mark.
It was old, yellowed paper with a green ribbon on its edge. On the front was a woman in regal dress, her expression brimming but unexplained. Underneath, in impossibly neat letters, was a quote.
"One good deed, dying tongueless; slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages."
Draco looked at Granger curiously, then smirked. "I think," he said slowly, "I like this bookmark. I think I'm going to keep it." He made a show of putting it in the front pocket of his robe, eyes locked with hers the whole time. Patting his front pocket, he smiled at her then returned to the book.
There was only one passage on the right side of the page. He read it carefully, then rolled his eyes.
"This was what you were muttering about?" He flashed her the passage. "A stupid riddle? Not a particularly clever one at that." He lifted the book and read aloud:
"Sometimes slow and sometimes quick; never tires and never quits. The helpless want it, the regal hate it, death abides it, time obeys it. What is it?"
He sighed dramatically and dropped the book to the floor. It landed with a thud and closed shut. He gave the silent Granger a dangerous smile. "The answer is obvious; power. Because everything wants power. And everything obeys power too."
With a parting wave, he turned towards the door he had come in.
"You're wrong."
Draco jumped and whirled around, but it was too late; the spell caught him in the chest mid-turn and he froze. He couldn't move, couldn't twitch a finger. But he could breath and he could blink. Curses echoed hollowly in his still throat. How had she gotten out so fast?
After a moment, Granger came into view, rubbing her wrists. She was smiling—and not the normal, shy and demure smile he had half expected. No, this smile was all teeth and edge. And that mischievous glint in her eye…
You'll regret this, he thought viciously. But some part of him had his doubts. A sliver of fear and something else shivered in his chest.
"Not bad reflexes," she taunted, flicking a curl of hair from her face. It batted his cheek. "But of course, your arrogance has always been your downfall. Certainly the curse held me for a few minutes—but you just had to go on and on, blabbing about your importance and your smarts. The truth is, you don't know much of anything. Not about me, not about muggles, not even about a silly little riddle."
She took a step forward and glared straight into his eyes, her nose in the air. "The answer to the riddle, the real answer? It's change. Change is what people like you Malfoy's fear and change is what places like the wizarding world needs. Maybe you're right, maybe muggles are at the bottom of the societal hierarchy—but trust me, we won't be for long." Her lips quirked in a smile. "The most important thing about change is that it can not be stopped."
She pulled back, expression infuriatingly satisfied. He wished fervently he could wipe it off her face. She studied him for a moment, then cocked her head to the side, her nose wrinkling. "And by the way, Malfoy, you don't look much different then when you're normal. You still look as stupid as ever."
Draco screamed at her in rage, but no sound came out. He glared at his wand furiously—Move, damnit, move!—but it only lay limply in his hand. Hermione's eyes flicked to where he was gazing, then she grinned. "You don't know the countercurse, do you? It took me ages to get it right while under full body bind. I wonder how you'll do?"
She flounced around and picked up her book, dusting off the dirt it had accumulated. She returned it to her bag—was she humming? Draco was completely glaring at her when she patted down her hair and finally stood in front of him.
And then she—she hesitated. A look of unease crossed her face. Draco blinked. She wasn't nervous suddenly, was she? What for?
Her eyes flicked up to his, noticing his stare. And then, to his complete and utter shock—she flushed.
"I'll…" she coughed. "I'll be having my bookmark back now." And her hand reached for his front pocket.
Draco's eyes widened frantically. What was she—
Small little fingers fumbled around the inside of his pocket, pressing against the flesh of his hip, then his upper thigh. Draco gulped as hot fire raced down his leg at her touch. He stared at her wildly, and she only flushed more, mumbling apologies. When she continued to fail miserably at finding her bookmark, he wanted to tear his hair out in frustration at the unwanted, definitely undeserved feelings coursing through his body. Not having his body react to it was almost ten times worse.
Finally—finally—her hand withdrew from his pocket, bookmark clutched in hand. His eyes flicked to the hand and he stared at it, as if he stared at it hard enough he might actually be able to touch it and—
What would he do, a distant voice asked in his mind. What would he do with her, once he had her?
Unexpectedly, a groan hissed from his lips.
Granger froze, her eyes darting to his face and meeting his. For one terrible, suspended moment, shock reflected into each other's eyes. Then, as if something in his eyes galvanized her into action, Granger squeaked and scampered out of the room, the door slamming behind her.
For the next several hours, Draco burned holes into the door as he slowly began working movement into his fingers and his tongue. Blistering, furious, irrational thoughts swirled in his mind, but most disturbing of all, was the one thought he didn't want to have.
Come back.