Oneshot. Posted in celebration of the end of my year twelve exams! This came to me during study – I'm not sure why.
Didn't have a year set in mind when I wrote it…but probably sixth year, before Everything Started. I have no beta yet, you will just have to take this spontaneous fic in all its spontaneous glory!
Warnings for implied sex. Just a bit. But that's in the rating.
Disclaimer: I in no way own, claim ownership, make any or ever intend to make any money off of any of the Harry Potter books, characters, or canon that may or may not feature in this story.
There was a time when my mind was occupied with other things, mundane things, such as friends and schoolwork.
However, lately… Lately, I find my eyes diverted, always. Always, when they are near, I find myself quietly, as stealthily as I can, turning to watch. Observing.
It's been so long – over a year – I do not remember when it first started. I do not even know if it started around the time I began watching, or if it was earlier yet. Everyone knew of their outer relationship of course – there probably wasn't one student in school that hadn't heard some traded barb or another. Despite that, without sounding arrogant, I feel as if there are very few, if any, that have found what I have found underneath, and even less who find it as… fascinating.
There was a pattern, I had deduced. A ritual, almost.
Their paths would align, cross at some time during the day. The six (three on either side) would march, meander, weave, stumble, sometimes even run into each other, and once contact had been made bickering would instantly break out. The redhead and Potter would be throwing insults fast, while Granger kept more to the back. The two hulks at Malfoy's back usually remained silent too, snigger only at his command while the blond preoccupied himself with returning the insults being fired at him. That was the pattern.
But this was what I noticed.
Even though she stayed out of it (most of the time), Granger's eyes would never leave Malfoy's. She'd watch him with an intensity that wasn't… normal. Like a big cat, sizing up a potential. Even when she put hands out to stop Potter or Weasley getting out of control, even when she snapped her own retorts to shut them all up, her eyes stayed glued to him. There was a fire there that I didn't understand.
Then, there was Malfoy. His sneer of contempt didn't tremble – it intensified. I knew this only through Quidditch, the one place Potter and Weasley were sure to meet Malfoy without Granger in tow. The tussles they had on the pitch had Malfoy looking bored, sceptical of the intelligence he was being faced with. Only when the Trio – so to speak – was complete, would he really fire up. It was then I noticed that he watched her too.
He didn't watch her during the fights. Maybe it would've been too obvious, and the boys had been known to break out into spell-casting. He wouldn't have dared to make the very rudimentary mistake of taking his off eyes off of the enemy. So if he didn't take his eyes off the enemy, and he kept his eyes on Potter (sometimes Weasley)…
It was fascinating. His gaze lacked her intensity, though he too reminded me of a cat. A ruling lion perhaps, with a lazy smirk, and eyes that flickered like candlelight. He watched her at dinner, watched her at breakfast. Not at lunch however, though he usually came late to that anyway. When we have classes, and one passes the other alone in the corridor, they watch each other then too. Granger was seen alone more often that most people would think.
And one place she was alone the most was the library.
I had approached her once or twice for some tutoring. She was always kind and eager to help, sometimes a little overshooting with the details, though always correct. Occasionally, her eyes would flit from the parchment, dart around the always half empty library, and then refocus on the work in front of her. This was always very quick – I rarely caught her at it, seeing as I really had needed the help and was focusing on the questions. Once I thanked her and sidled away, she'd bend back to her own work, but body rearranged slightly to face toward the doorway.
One night, I had been at the library late. The friend I usually studied with had left already, having finished his work and decided to turn in early. Left to my own devices, and somewhere in the middle of my concluding paragraph, I had started absentmindedly nibbling on the end of my quill, my thoughts drifting to Granger who was situated at a table two bookshelves away. I had been looking for a book there, and she'd looked up as I wandered closer to where she sat. We gave each other a faint smile – the one you give when you're not quite on first name basis yet with that familiar stranger.
I'd been watching her and Malfoy for a while, yet I still didn't really understand what was going on. They never exchanged a civil word to each other, glared at each other more than the rest of Gryffindor and Slytherin combined (excluding those contributed by Potter and Weasley), and yet…
And yet.
There was something, something I couldn't quite put my finger on as to what was bothering me. No, not bothering – fascinating. This was my curiosity. Shaking my head a little, I shifted in my seat and tried to refocus on the essay. It needed to be done in an hour – both the library and curfew would be closing down on me. Even the lights had dimmed, only the lamps situated at tables remained shining brightly. I scratched away slowly, my thoughts still halfway not here.
So determined was I to finish this last piece of writing, I almost ignored the soft footfalls along the shelf behind me. There was a scrape of chair. A low buzz of words.
I realised I had stopped writing again as I waited for the sound of a person's weight sitting into the old stools. But the sound didn't come. Curiously, I lifted my head from the assignment. There was another flutter of words, and another silence.
As my awful curiosity was piqued once more, and as I debated whether or not I could get out of my chair silently enough to investigate, whether or not I should investigate, there was a soft thump, followed quickly by a tiny… mewl. As I glanced down at my parchment, and my wand that had rolled across it, I suddenly remembered that I could do magic. Curiosity got the better of me. Casting a silencing charm on my footsteps, I moved soundlessly down the two aisles, chewing my lower lip.
When I peeked around the corner, several things happened.
Firstly, I sliced my lip open as I bit down on it in an effort to swallow my gasp. The blood was coppery on my tongue, the pain made my eyes water. It had been a reflexive action - I had forgotten about the Charm.
Secondly, I dropped to the floor faster than I thought I was capable of, so scared I was of being seen. Both people in front of me had the full capacity to curse me into a puddle of gloop if they so wished. Permanently.
Lastly, that something I couldn't put my finger on before, clunked solidly into place now. As I nursed my lip, I watched, fascinated with the scene in front of me.
Granger's eyes were closed, her head arched back as she was pushed up to sit on the small ledge between the shelves and the cupboards they stood on. Her skirt had ridden up to almost her hips as she curled her legs around his waist. She kept hitching one leg higher up as it kept slipping down his side. The head in the crook of her neck made a sucking noise and she let out another mewl, writhing once against the shelves as her fingers knotted and twisted in a nest of ice blond hair.
Up until then I had been vaguely wondering who he might be, but really. That hair. No one else had that hair. One hand appeared from nowhere to grab the leg that kept rubbing against him, and slid up to grab her thigh. The other hand held her head still as he raised his head from her neck.
"Would you please shut up?" Malfoy hissed.
She merely smirked at him. He seemed momentarily at a loss, seeing his usual expression so perfectly mirrored in her face. She leaned forwards, pulling him down by his hair and bit a kiss into his mouth.
"It's not like there's anyone here, the last Ravenclaws left half an hour ago," she whispered against him, "What are you being so twitchy about, hmm?"
Malfoy growled, pushing her back against the shelf. They kissed manically, like two beasts raging against each other. Fighting, wanton, competing to devour the other first. Despite his earlier warning, Malfoy himself was becoming a little undone. Their harsh breathing started saturating the quiet air. There was a fumble, and Granger's shirt fell open to reveal a black lace bra shot through with green.
There was a pause.
Malfoy lifted his head, with great difficulty it seemed, to look at her.
"Like it?" she breathed impishly.
There was a longer pause, until he bent his head over her chest. He licked the bare skin once, before starting to remove the bra with his teeth.
At the third mewl, I moved away and returned, unnoticed, to my desk.
I nibbled on the end of my quill.
Fascinating.