An Historical Aside...

In her sixth year at Hogwarts, Hermione had almost kissed Draco Malfoy.

Almost.

She'd been conflicted by the contradicting emotions left in the aftermath of that near miss, and the question of, 'what if?' had occasionally haunted her in the years since.

After having accidentally walking in on Won-Won and Lav-Lav fawning all over each other in the Gryffindor common room one night in late March, Hermione had decided to do an unscheduled Prefect patrol around the castle, needing to get away from the irritation that was Ron's relationship with another woman.

She hadn't meant to follow Draco when she'd first spied his distinctive platinum head rounding a corner on the second floor level. It was hearing the door to the girl's loo creak on its hinges as it was opened that had captured her curiosity and had her feet travelling in his direction. No one went in there, as it had always been Moaning Myrtle's favourite stomping grounds. Further, Draco had no business visiting a women's toilet; the boy's loo was down the other end of the hall.

Seeing it as her duty to keep the school rules, as well as a chance to take points from Slytherin House, she'd followed him into the restroom...

...and had found him hurriedly splashing water over his face from the sink, his usually well-disciplined features tight with a peculiar panic she'd never witnessed him display before.

His head had jerked up at the sound of the door opening, and their eyes had met in the vanity mirror situated over the basin. They'd stared at each other in silence for long moments, both with wide-eyed expressions.

In that split second, Hermione had known that something was terribly wrong with Draco. Instinct had told her that he was in some sort of trouble, and the look on his face had only served to confirm that suspicion. Quickly, she'd glanced around for Myrtle, but it seemed as though the ghost had chosen that particular hour to be absent from her usual haunt.

With wand tightly in hand, Hermione had stepped the rest of the way into the loo. "Are you all right?" she'd hesitantly asked him, shutting the door behind her. "Are you ill? Do you need help?"

Like water sheeting over glass, wiping it clean of imperfections, Draco's horror had melted away in an instant, relaxing his eyes, jaw, and mouth. A heartbeat later, he'd slipped back into the smooth, almost bored expression she'd grown used to seeing from him that year. "Always the quintessential Gryffindor, Granger – sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. Bugger off."

"You're in the women's," she'd pointed out, "and out after curfew. I could take points."

He'd barked a laugh at her threat. "You think I care about something as insignificant as the House Cup?" His icy-grey eyes had met hers as he'd turned to face her. In his hand he'd held one of the folded hand towels that had always lay in a pile next to the sink areas. He'd used it right then to pat down his face and neck, and then he'd tossed it to the floor without a care. "Read the news lately? There are more important things happening in the world right now, don't you think?"

It had occurred to her then that Harry just might have been right about the level of Malfoy's involvement with the Dark Lord, and a tremor of fear had run through her at the thought. "Have any intimate details you'd care to share on the subject?" she countered his question with one of her own, refusing to be intimidated by him. "I'm all ears."

That had been the first time she'd seen the smirk.

It hadn't been the expression he'd typically utilized over the years, which had been trademarked with a very Malfoy-ish sort of charm: that of a malicious sneer combined with a smug arrogance. Instead, the smirk he'd given her that night had been all boyish amusement, with a surprisingly dollop of respect to its curve.

It had completely taken Hermione by surprise, and had lowered her defences by a notch.

Draco, apparently, had been counting on that effect, and had used the distraction to step closer to her. With his hands empty, and his wand nowhere in sight, he'd walked half the distance of the floor between them before she'd remembered that even unarmed and appearing charming, no Malfoy was ever truly harmless. She'd raised her wand to halt his step and he'd complied as she'd expected. She'd then double-checked the length of his form for any hint of his wand in easy each, just to be on the safe side, but could see not see a familiar edge sticking from his pockets or attached to a side holster.

His smirk grew as he slowly stepped forward, playing a game of chicken with her.

"Looking for an excuse to hex me?" he'd taunted.

She'd met his stare once more without fear. "Do I need one?"

He'd chuckled, and the sound had raised goosebumps upon the backs of her arms, because like his smirk, his amusement had held heat... and the type of warning that had nothing to do with violence, and everything to do with sexual hunger.

"Do you want one?"

She'd prepared a defensive spell in her mind then, letting it rest on the tip of her tongue, even as he'd stalked closer.

"You need to go back to your dormitory now," she'd advised him.

He'd finally come to a halt again when the tip of her wand had touched the centre of his chest. "You're blocking the door," he'd pointed out.

As she'd dropped her wand arm to step aside so he could pass, he'd again taken advantage. Faster than she'd expected him to move, he'd stepped into her personal space and pressed their bodies together. His arms had shot out to either side of her, caging her between.

In silence, they'd stared at each other across the inches, measuring, judging. She'd tilted her wand in her wrist, and had tapped it against his side to let him know that she'd held the power to do the greater harm, should he push for conflict. Draco, however, had seemed completely unfazed by the threat.

"It's not me you have to be frightened of this time, Granger," he'd murmured, dropping his attention to her lips.

"Thank you for the warning, but I still won't back down," she'd bravely answered, understanding that his implication went beyond just that moment in the bathroom. He'd been referring to Voldemort and his hatred of Muggle-borns, and the war that they both knew was coming very soon. "I'll fight with my last breath."

"Yes, I'm sure you would," he'd muttered, leaning his head closer. "You're not scared of anything, are you?"

His mesmerizing gaze had been wholly focussed on her mouth, and she'd cynically thought that for a pure-blood who had always claimed disgust for her blood status, he'd seemed awfully tempted by her mouth.

The truth had struck her hard then: Draco was thinking of kissing her.

That improbable thought had been followed by two outlandish others: would she let him... and if so, would she like it?

She'd stared back at his mouth, wondering what he would feel and taste like. Would he kiss like Viktor, sloppy and inexperienced, or would he know how to work her mouth in a way that would make her forget exactly who he was and what they'd always been to each other?

Realizing how insane her thoughts were, she'd forced her concentration back on their conversation.

"You're wrong. I'm scared. I'm just as human as you are," she'd reminded him, wanting to make that connection in his head and hoping it would stick. "But I won't let that fear stop me from protecting the people I love. I'll do whatever I must to save them, even if I'm damned for it later."

He'd stopped then, with his hot breath brushing across her lips and chin, so close to crossing a line that even she'd quivered before his indecision. His eyes had lifted to hers, and in the moment they'd met, she'd felt some fundamental shift in him. A resolve seemed to take hold of him, where before there had appeared a smidgeon of doubt.

Leaning away, he'd dropped his arms and the strange, awkward moment passed.

"You're blocking the door," he'd reminded her a second time, and then he'd smirked again... and it had been the familiar cruel expression she'd been used to seeing aimed at her. "I'm out past curfew, and it wouldn't do to get a detention. Not this year, anyway."

Realizing that he had no intention of attempting to cause her harm just them, but still not liking the shroud of darkness that had enveloped his tone, she'd stared at him with wariness. "You'll go right back to your common room?"

He'd huffed with amusement. "Sure, I promise."

"I mean it, Malfoy. No further stops or side trips. Go back to your common room immediately, or I'll have to report you to your Head of House."

"Fine, Granger. Just... get out of the way."

Stepping aside, she'd let him go, a shadow of uneasiness passing through her as he'd yanked the door open and stepped out. His footsteps had echoed down the corridor, heading towards the Grand Staircase.

Not wanting to leave the hand towel on the floor for the house-elves to have to clean-up, Hermione had gone and picked it up, intending on dropping it into the girl's dorms laundry chute in Gryffindor Tower upon her return. By the time she'd exited the second floor bathroom, Draco had been long gone.

He hadn't looked her way or met her eye once in their shared classes, in the dining hall, or in the corridors for the remaining two months of the term, especially after Harry had put him in the Hospital Ward after their fight in, of all places, Myrtle's bathroom a month later.

By that June, Death Eaters had been let into the castle, and the world as Hermione had always known it had changed in a flash of green and the death of an old man high up in the Astronomy Tower.

In the aftermath, for the first time, she had come to know the kind of fear that sunk bone deep into a person and threatened to crush out their hope. Sure, she'd been frightened many times before in her young life, facing one mad challenge after another for the first five years of her Hogwarts career, but nothing had terrified her quite so much as realizing, with Dumbledore's death, that it was very possible that they'd lose the war.

For a long time, she'd blamed Draco Malfoy for the loss of her idealism.


TO BE CONTINUED...


AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Now you know about the 'almost kiss' Hermione referred to a few times now. What did you think of that near miss?

Please review!