***This story was originally posted in 2011, but has since been reviewed and reposted as of 1/26/14. I loved writing a bit of Dramione drabble as a fun side project to something larger I have been working on, but I thought I'd take the time to turn this into a story with multiple chapters.
If anyone is interested in leaving ideas and comments about where you think this should be headed, I'd love to hear. I really didn't have something concrete in mind just yet, and I am (fortunately or unfortunately) writing as I go. Chapter 2 is up as well, so take a look.
Please bear with me when I explain that I am trying to keep this true to the books and as linear to OotP as possible, but there are some inconsistencies that do not affect the plot line as a whole. My apologies in that regard. Even so, I hope you read, enjoy, and comment!***
The only time Hermione ever felt free was when she was submerged in the pages of her favorite books. Rune translations and her volumes on Muggle studies noffered her another world apart from her own that let her mind open to the possibilities that there was order to the world after all. It wasn't that she was tired of her new life as a witch, but that her perfectly organized life had taken many unexpected turns since her friendship with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter began five years ago. She clutched the books to her chest while she roamed an empty corridor and thought fleetingly of her life before a single letter had arrived and changed her life forever.
With her eyes on her feet, Hermione rounded a corner and collided with a very solid figure. Her books crashed to the floor with a sound like thunder that echoed down the vast corridor. She hurriedly crouched down to pick them up before the bindings were ruined and muttered apologies to the floor.
"Really, very sorry," she blurted out in her embarrassment, "All my fault-"
"Can it, Granger," a familiar drawling voice said from above her, "You're going to get us in trouble. Not that I care about you, of course."
Hermione looked up to see the quite unshaken form of Draco Malfoy leaning nonchalantly against the stone wall a few feet from where she crouched. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers and a mocking grin on his face. An involuntary wave of irritation found its way up her spine and she stood with her books back in her arms, brushing stray strands of curly hair from her face.
"What do you mean, I'll get us in trouble? It's only-" she gazed quickly out a window and was met by a deep navy sky speckled with stars. "Oh." So she had spent a bit more time in the library than she expected. The imminent threat of O.W.L.s had consumed her conscience for the last four weeks and often times she found herself passing hours at a time in the library, lost to the outside world.
"Haven't got much of a social life, have you?" he mused while plucking a piece of lint off his school robes, "I can't imagine Potter and the Weasel are much fun."
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but caught sight of something that sent another shiver down her spine. To her immense shock, Draco's eyes slid down her length and traveled back up to an area below her chin. A hot, creeping blush colored her cheeks and she ignored the warmth coiling in her stomach.Impossible. The darkness must be playing tricks on me.
"What I do in my free time is my business, Malfoy. And if you must know, Harry and Ron are ten times as much fun as this little meeting has been."
She shifted the weight of the books in her arms and watched with satisfaction as Draco's grin slid off his face, replaced by a small scowl. He took a step toward her and shrugged his shoulders. "If I wanted to, I could show you how much fun I can really be."
As he moved forward, Hermione took a step back. His comment echoed in her mind and the warm coils in her stomach seemed to tighten.
"How much fun you..." Her sentence trailed off as she tried to comprehend Draco's meaning.
"Yes, Granger. I can be loads of fun," he said as he took another step closer, "If you know what I mean." His eyes locked with hers and a small, mocking smile turned the corners if his lips up. Hermione stepped backwards again and was met by the cool stone blocks of the corridor wall at her back. She shook her head and felt her heart begin pounding faster as he advanced. Surely he meant to take advantage of the deserted castle and enjoy his chance encounter with a Mudblood. Hermione found herself recalling their run-in last year at the Quidditch World Cup when he'd teased her about being dangled upside down with her knickers revealed for everyone to see like that poor Muggle woman. Was that the sort of fun he intended to have now?
"Of course you wouldn't know," he continued. "You're probably stiffer than old McGonagall, and that's saying something."
"Just let me leave, Malfoy," Hermione spat, mustering all the courage she could. There was something different about Draco's demeanor, she realized. She forced herself to really look at the things he'd been saying, and the way he held himself. Or it might have been the way he looked at her. His voice held no traces of the hatred or disgust that it usually did, but rather uncertainty, she noticed. "I'm sure you have plenty of other people to bother."
For a moment it looked as though Draco was confused. His steel-gray eyes held some emotion Hermione couldn't make out and his footsteps were slow and measured. He stopped only a foot away from her and looked her over once more.
"Would you like me to explain?" he whispered, ignoring her last comment. His breath was warm against her cheek and in the silence of the deserted corridor she could almost hear his steady heartbeat. Without waiting for a response, he lifted one hand and placed it on her shoulder. Hermione flinched, trying to move away, but he moved his other hand to lean against the wall next to her head.
She was trapped.
"W-what are you doing?" she asked, fear saturating every syllable. A lump had formed in her throat and her breathing became heavier. Surely he would curse her. No one would find her until morning, possibly covered in boils or with her front teeth the size of floor boards again. An involuntary whimper escaped her, and the brave Hermione that clocked him in their third year was nowhere to be found. But- Hermione managed to console herself- where was his wand?
Another odd expression crossed Draco's face and the hand on her shoulder slid slowly up to the soft skin of her throat. His fingers traced gentle patterns and Hermione watched in shock as the muscles in his jaw flexed, as if he were clenching his teeth. Words eluded her and she could only stand still while he touched her.
"You know," Draco said after a minute of silence, "Sometimes I say things I don't mean." He looked into her eyes and frowned. "I don't know how to tell you this."
All Hermione could think to do was struggle against him until he let her go. What was supposed to be a quick walk back to the common room had turned into an outrageous dream. She would wake up in her four poster bed soon and laugh at the absurdity of her own imagination. Right?
Wrong. As Draco swallowed, Hermione watched the muscles in his throat work. There was something wrong with the way he held himself so close to her. He moved his face down to hers and paused briefly before taking a shuddering breath and pressing his lips against hers. She closed her eyes and felt his soft flesh whisper over her in the most gentle of ways. It was over as soon as it began. Draco pulled back and looked at her steadily, waiting for her to respond. Her eyes widened in surprise and she shook her head.
"W-why?" she whispered, looking him square in the eyes.
"Merlin, Granger!" he muttered in exasperation. He ran a hand through his platinum blonde hair and sighed. "I think I love you, okay?" The gentleness he'd displayed only seconds before had vanished as easily as it had come. He turned away as if to leave, but faced her again for a moment. "For someone so brilliant, you really are quite slow."
And with that, he ghosted down the corridor and out of sight. Hermione stood rooted to the spot, trying to grasp what Draco had just said. I think I love you, okay?She picked up the books that had once again fallen from her arms and slowly began to walk back to the Gryffindor common room.
Hermione never thought about the possibility of someone falling in love with her. Sure, Viktor told her he loved her the year before, but they only spoke every once in a while now. It couldn't have been true love. But Draco? Every word from his mouth since their first year at Hogwarts had been cruel and mocking.
Before she knew it, she was in her bed staring blankly into the darkness. The warm coils in her stomach never abated and she forced herself to consider the possibility that what she felt meant there were feelings inside her for him too. Rude, abrasive, spoiled, narcissistic Malfoy had just confessed his love for her. Bloody hell.