Chapter 2
Hermione stopped dead in her tracks at the sound. It was a voice that was so familiar to her and it never failed to have the same effect. It was a voice that she regularly heard in her dreams just lately – dreams that left her feeling very warm and flustered, and worried that she may have been making some rather unsavoury noises or calling out a certain someone's name in her sleep. Her heart raced and she felt a blush creeping over her as she turned to face the direction it had come from – the corridor that led down to the Slytherin common room.
There, leaning languorously against the stone wall on the corner where the two corridors met, was Draco Malfoy. He was casually rolling down his shirt sleeves and fastening the cuffs with serious concentration. Hermione had covertly watched him rolling them up in their potions class a little earlier as he had turned his attentions to preparing his ingredients. The other boys in school were always walking around with their sleeves rolled up, their shirttails hanging out and generally looking a bit scruffy, but not Draco. He was always immaculate, his shirt buttoned up to the top with his tie neatly knotted with precision. There was time when she thought Malfoy's behaviour to nothing but a form of egotistical preening, but over time she had grown to respect that he cared about his appearance and had an eye for detail. She smiled in admiration as she continued to watch his careful ministrations before realising she was in fact openly staring, as his eyes suddenly swept upwards to hers.
"Oh… hi Malfoy" she quickly replied, walking towards him. "What can I do for you?"
'What indeed?' her inner monologue jibed as she quickly stamped down the ideas that were bubbling at the periphery of her mind.
"It's about our patrol duty next week, Granger. I've got a friendly, end of year Quidditch game to go to that evening. We've set it up with all the seventh years."
"Ah yes. I think Harry and Ron were talking about that just now. So…" Hermione trailed off realising the implications of what he was saying. Next Tuesday evening was going to be their last prefect patrol together. Hermione had come to look forward to the evenings when she had an excuse to spend some time alone with Malfoy, and now it seemed that he was going to miss their last one.
"…You can't come to patrol then? Do you want me to arrange for one of the other prefects.."
"Merlin no!" Malfoy interjected, rather hurriedly. "I can come, but we've put a time limit on the match and if it goes to full time it won't end until just before our patrol duty begins. I was just going to ask if you would mind meeting me at the Northern Tower door rather than at the Great Hall so we're not late starting. I'll just come straight from Quidditch."
"Oh!" Hermione replied, trying her hardest not to sound too relieved. "Well that should be fine. I mean, we'll have to change our patrol route a bit, but that's easy enough to solve."
"That's what I thought. Besides, wouldn't want you to swap and get lumbered with someone like Finch Fletchley… or worse …McClaggen!" he smirked giving her a gentle shove.
She screwed her face up in a disgusted expression. "Eurgh. Don't remind me, Malfoy!" It had been Malfoy who had found Hermione hiding from McClaggen's letcherous, wandering hands (and tongue if she was being honest), behind a tapestry in the corridor during the Slug Club Christmas Party the previous year. He had helped her to avoid him the rest of the night and had even sent McClaggen on a wild goose chase when he'd asked if he'd seen her, sending him off up to the astronomy tower. But he had also found her plight a little too amusing Hermione thought, and being the true Slytherin that he was, he had used this information to jibe her at any given opportunity ever since.
She quickly diverted the topic of conversation. "Anyway, won't McClaggen be joining you on the Quidditch pitch for your so called 'friendly' game?"
Malfoy feigned a shocked and hurt expression, clutching at his heart dramatically.
"It will be the friendliest and most honourable game of Quidditch known to wizardkind!" he exclaimed. "I resent that you think for one moment that there might be any bad sportsmanship involved. And if Potter happens to end up face first in the mud with his broomstick up his arse and a bludger in his smug mouth, then it would be a pure accident of course!"
Hermione gasped and smacked his arm playfully.
"OW!" he moaned rubbing his arm and giving her a sulky pout which made her insides melt. "Quidditch is a dangerous game, you know, Granger!"
"It is when you're playing, Malfoy. Just try not to do too much damage to each other, please. You've still got exams to sit and I don't want to patrol on my own on Tuesday night. Especially with the end of year pranks that are likely to be on the cards next week."
"Ahh yes. Prank week. " Malfoy nodded. "Seems a bit childish to me, but it's a tradition that just won't die. Don't worry Granger, I'll be there to save you from the big bad pranksters. See you Tuesday!" he called as he spun round and headed back down the corridor. "And don't be late, Granger. I don't like being kept waiting!"
Hermione rolled her eyes at his arrogance, but with the warm smile that she always felt she had plastered across her face whenever they had these moments of gentle teasing. Their friendship that had slowly developed over the last 2 years had certainly taken her by surprise, especially as he had always been such a spoiled little brat in their earlier years, and there had always been a strong rivalry between their two houses. She had totally played down their friendship with her fellow Gryffindors – especially Harry and Ron. They still saw the arrogant and annoying Malfoy of old. They never saw the witty, playful and endearing side of him that he had gradually opened up to her. In fact, she was pretty sure that no one in the school knew that they now had such a good relationship, let alone that that friendship had now developed into a deep attraction on her part.
Her stomach suddenly gave a rather loud grumble and she realised that she was late for lunch. She momentarily considered calling out after Malfoy to ask him if he would join her in walking up to the Great Hall, but he had long since gone, and if she was honest, she would never have had the nerve to be so brazen as to ask him anyway. She would've ended up blushing like a pygmy puff and she didn't want any awkwardness to strain their relationship now with only a few days left to go of their time at Hogwarts. She knew that she'd missed her chance and that even if she'd had the nerve (which she didn't) she should have acted on her developing feelings earlier in the year. So sure of outright rejection from the handsome,and confident Slytherin was she, that she had never struck up the courage to go there. It was clear that he kept more of a distance from her whenever anyone else was around, and she held on to this as the certain proof that he didn't have any reciprocal feelings for her.
'So much for Gryffindor bravery.' she thought to herself as she trudged up the stone staircase, her mood now starting to match the atmosphere of the gloomy dungeon corridor.