Chapter Six: Scent

The loud ramble and clatter of the students and the dinner utensils filled the air around the large room, laughter and the voices of her schoolmates filled her ears pleasantly. Hermione chewed absently on her steak and kidney pie, watching as Seamus dared Ron to see how many dinner rolls he could fit into his mouth. Harry was looking on with a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes, counting out each roll that was added. He caught Hermione's eye and grinned. Hermione smiled back and sipped her pumpkin juice, looking further down the Gryffindor table.

Ginny and Michael Corner were in a heated argument, whispering angrily to each other, Neville wasn't eating at all, he'd propped up a thick Herbology volume up on the table, and was reading it very closely, his nose almost touching the pages. He'd mentioned how Professor Sprout had given it to him days ago, and had carried it everywhere since, his eyes glued to its contents. Hermione smiled and looked on. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil seemed to be talking about a certain boy in the Ravenclaw table; they turning to send him coy smiles and flirtatious little waves of their fingers. The boy took one look at them and turned away, shaking his head. Hermione looked to down at her plate to hide her smirk.

The pressure of a hand on her shoulder made her jump. Hermione looked behind her to see who it was.

Cormac McLaggen looked down at her curiously.

"What did you jump for? Did I scare you?"

"No-I was just thinking of something else," she said. He pulled his hand back and she turned to face him. "It's there something I can help you with?"

"I've got a question for you," he said, "but it's too loud to talk here."

"We can step outside for a moment," she suggested, and he agreed.

"I'll be back," she gestured to Harry, who nodded but stared at Cormac rather suspiciously. Hermione stood and led Cormac outside.

Draco watched as that arrogant Gryffindor followed the Head Girl out of the Great Hall. Unconsciously, the grip on his knife tightened, as he watched the door close behind them. He had never liked that McLaggen bloke. The smug look on his face as he'd placed his hand on the witch's shoulder irked him. Not to mention his shady reputation with the female population of Hogwarts.

Not like I care about Granger, but if something happens to her I'll never hear the end of it from the others.

"Something on your mind?" Blaise Zabini had dropped down on the bench beside him.

Draco shook his head. "None of your business." He stole a quick glance at the great doors through indifferent eyes, and then back to Blaise, who'd piled his plate high and had begun eating.

"What's it like living with Know-It-All Granger?" Blaise asked through bites of his meal. "Has she driven you out yet?"

"She'd be hard-pressed to get me out of this position," Draco said haughtily. "Though I won't say she's not trying."

"How?" Blaise poured himself some water.

"You've seen what she's like in class. Try living with that."

"You'll excuse me for this, but I still can't believe you were chosen for Head Boy," Blaise said, shaking his head. "We all thought that Justin-Finch Fletchely would get it."

Draco located him at his table, struggling to find a dignified way to eat his pasta.

"If he came up and asked for it, I'd let him have it."

Granger would like that. He's polite enough. They get on well.

He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"See, you say that but I don't believe it," Blaise was saying.

"You're right. She doesn't want me there, but I won't leave just to make her comfortable."

"So you'll stay out of spite. You stubborn ass."

Draco smirked. "You'd do the same."

"Oh, naturally."

Blaise focused on eating. Draco scanned the Gryffindor table. Granger was not back yet. He kept his eye on the door as he ate.

Hermione felt Cormac's hand on her back. She wasn't sure how she felt about this, she normally didn't like being touched so familiarly by someone she barely knew, but as the touch didn't seem inappropriate in any way she let it slide.

Cormac turned to her. "You should come with me to Hogsmeade next week."

Hermione looked perplexed. "Oh-I thought this was a school matter."

"What did you think I was going to ask? That I needed help with Transfiguration?" he asked teasingly.

"Well, yes."

He chuckled. "We can fit that in, too, if you like. The Three Broomsticks is a jolly place, we'll have fun."

He smiled and reached out, smoothing his hand over her hair. Again, Hermione bristled at the contact, and turned her head away to make a point. He retracted his hand, nonplussed.

"Why ask me?" she asked. "I reckon Parvati would have been glad if you'd asked her."

"Don't play dumb, Hermione. You're the prettiest of all the girls in Gryffindor, and those brains of yours don't take away from the presentation, I assure you. None of the other girls look half as well as you, and they're all so much stupider."

She frowned.

"That's not a nice thing to say. You don't have to put someone else down to pay a compliment."

"It's the truth." He laughed. "Don't pretend this is all a surprise, I've seen the way you look at me."

Hermione flushed. "That doesn't mean I fancy you."

"Well, you can still give it a try."

She crossed her arms. "I don't think I want to."

His smile fell slightly. "You think or you know?"

"I'm sure I don't want to," she said firmly, and he stepped away. "Honestly, Cormac, I'm not interested in you romantically, sorry."

She didn't know what to do, so she held out her hand to shake his. He didn't. Her eyes trailed up to his face, she was surprised to see he looked very displeased. "I hope we can still be friendly, at least," she said.

"See you in class," he muttered angrily, and walked away.

Oh, what a baby.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and headed to her dorm.

Draco had been writing a Transfiguration paper when she'd walked in, jaw set, eyes wounded and angry. She stomped over to the chintzy armchair and sat down with a huff, drawing her knees under her chin.

Such an impulsive, childlike move. It made him want to laugh but his curiosity got the better of him. It was only out of his curious nature that he wanted to know what had happened between her and McLaggen. Nothing else.

"Bad day?" he asked casually over the top of the book he was reading.

Their eyes met briefly and she nodded angrily before turning away, her braid falling over her shoulder. He wanted to ask about the other boy, but then she would find out that he'd been watching her so he bit his lip and buried his nose back into his book. He immersed himself in the passage he had been reading before she had entered, seeking the information he needed for his paper.

"Malfoy?"

He slung his arm over the back of his chair and turned to face her.

"What?"

He fixed her with a hard stare. She seemed nervous and embarrassed. Her eyes were downcast and she bit her lip as she fiddled with the end of her braid, apparently thinking hard over something but finding no answers. The action brought his attention to her mouth, her lips pink from her teeth biting into them. The sudden and wholly surprising desire to kiss her again flooded through him, like he had felt before, and he was too busy thinking about that when he realized she'd asked him something and was staring at him expectantly.

"Hm?" he asked, mentally kicking himself.

Fool.

She looked at him, annoyed and flustered. "Never mind."

She got up and made to enter her room when he called her back, asking her to repeat her question with an irritated voice.

"Why do boys act like such children when a girl rejects their advances?"

Malfoy wanted to laugh again. So McLaggen had asked her out, then. And she'd said no. He didn't like it, but Draco felt relieved.

That imbecile shouldn't have asked her out in the first place.

And then he caught himself thinking those things and mentally kicked himself again, but harder this time. It didn't matter to him who Granger went out with, he simply shouldn't care. The only reason he cared in this instance was because he simply didn't like that McLaggen boy. He was annoyingly overconfident and ugly to boot.

"It seems your special lad thinks very highly of himself and couldn't handle it."

"Why get so angry, though?"

"You'll have to ask him. Not everyone has the same reason."

"Hm." She lingered at her door.

Draco put down his book and fixed her with a disdainful stare. "I hope you don't take this as invitation to come to me whenever you've got boy troubles."

"As if I'd want to talk about that with you," she said, rolling her eyes.

Draco smirked. "Yet here you stand."

She scowled and shut herself into her room.

It began to snow the next weekend, the excitement of it all drew the students out of the sleepy school in droves, and soon, the grounds were full of enchanted snowballs seeking prey; magically animated snowmen walking about the grounds and an impromptu game of Quidditch between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff using only snow balls, which ended quickly and disastrously as it had not been properly thought out.

The first trip to Hogsmeade took place, and the students who were eligible wasted no time in making the trek down to the village, walking merrily through the snow with their friends.

Hermione looked out at the grounds from her perch on the steps of the main entrance. Fat snowflakes drifted lazily down, landing on her hair, blending into the white ground. The cold was delicious even though she was shaking, she adjusted her snug hat and scarf and proceeded to walk about the grounds, looking for a familiar face.

A hard ball of snow hit her shoulder and she gave a small shriek of surprise, quickly looking around to catch who had thrown it. There was no one there, so she walked on, suspicious. Another caught her in the back, and she whirled around, curls flying, to catch the perpetrator. Still no one. Neville and Luna were creating some sort of snow figure nearby, but she knew it hadn't been them. Everyone else around her was engaged in their own event, no one was looking at her.

Hermione sensed movement behind her, whipped out her wand, and cast a quick fire charm. The snowball that had been seconds away from hitting her vaporized mid-air. Hermione twirled her wand and tucked it back into her pocket with a tiny smile.

The muffled sound of clapping brought her attention back up, where Harry and Ron stood, impressed by her skill. "I knew it was you two," she said, and gave them both a fierce hug along with a small smack to the side of their heads.

"But it didn't stop you from squealing, now, did it?" Ron asked, grinning. Harry laughed, earning a jab in the ribs from Hermione, who glared at them but ended up laughing anyways. They looped their arms together and began to trudge across the grounds, constantly ducking from the flying debris. A while later they reached Hogsmeade, laughing and chatting merrily as they entered The Three Broomsticks.

Draco looked out at the school grounds from inside the Head Common Room. It had gotten much darker outside, and most of the students had already headed back into the school, weary and cold. He didn't know why he was staring out the window still; he'd been standing here for a half hour, pale eyes glued to the grounds. He was waiting for something, or someone. He didn't know what.

Running a hand through his hair, he picked up his cup of tea with the other and drank, ignoring the pain from the scalding liquid as it ran down his throat. The heat from the cup fogged up the glass and he wiped it away absently. Much of the school grounds were visible from where he stood, the white sea of snow and darkness of the forest beyond, the grey sky stretched taut over it all, and three small figures moving towards the entrance of the castle.

It didn't take too long to figure out who those three were. Weasley was not fond of hats, apparently. The red of his hair was as bright as fire in the surrounding white. Potter was a little harder to place but Draco recognized him the second he caught sight of his worn and ill-fitting coat.

That only left her. He looked at the third figure and indeed it was her, sporting the hat he had seen her create out of yarn. She was running behind Potter and Weasley, they seemed to be racing each other, streaking through the snow, raising their legs high to work through the snow.

Idiots. Did they not notice they were surrounded by snow and ice? The moment he'd finished that thought Granger slipped and fell into a pile of snow. Her curls had escaped from her hat, splaying over her face. The boys rushed back to her, obviously worried, but stood and laughed when they caught sight of her belly heaving with laughter. Her head was thrown back, mouth wide open, and even from the distance he was at, watching through the window, he could see her breath come out in puffs from her lips. Potter helped her up, and the trio slowly resumed their pilgrimage to the castle, more slowly this time.

Draco turned away, finishing the last of his tea. It wasn't as hot now and soothed his burnt tongue. Slowly, he unbuttoned his coat and shrugged it off, draping it over the nearest char. Pushing the sleeves of his black dress shirt up, he picked up his cup of tea and saucer, and walked over to the tiny kitchenette just as the portrait entrance swung open and she walked inside.

Cheeks rosy from the sudden heat of the castle, eyes bright with happiness and with a small skip in her step she went directly to the coat rack, humming softly to herself. Draco's eyes never left the bright witch as she shimmied out of her coat and neatly hung up her scarf, and turned to dust a bit of ice off her boot. She noticed him for the first time as she stood back up and blushed. Draco said nothing. She gave him a polite smile and said 'goodnight' as she walked into her room. He nodded at her in response and rinsed out his dishes in the small sink and turned to face the coat rack, drying off his hands with a clean cloth. He stared at the piece of furniture for a moment, and then, before he knew what he was doing, he was standing before it, bringing her scarf to his nose, inhaling her scent.

Her scent was so intoxicating, how had he not noticed before? It made his head feel light and pleasant, sending a delicious thrill down his body as he rubbed the knitted fabric against his skin. Old books and lavender and jasmine, that was what Granger smelled like, and it was wonderful. Never had he come across a smell like this one before, and he wondered what her skin might taste like. Shivers ran down his body as he inhaled again, letting his mind wander despite his better judgement. For just this once.

He imagined her hands, those pale, perfect hands, running up and down his body, across his skin. Imagined them running through his hair, over his lips, nipples, and pictured her small fingers ghosting over his cock, running up and down its length. He thought of her lovely eyes, wide and brown, staring back at him in defiance and fear, those trembling pink lips he so wanted to taste again. He'd only had one small taste of the witch and somehow he had become addicted, he wanted to kiss her; devour her. What had she done to him?

And then the fire popped and he jumped, startled into releasing the knitted garment, breathing hard. Her door to his right beckoned to him and with pleasure he envisioned her in her bed. His groin felt tight, aching for the little witch to whom the scarf belonged.

Draco looked at the fallen scarf with a mixture of disgust and lust, and kicked it away from him with one fluid motion of his foot, sending it flying over to a chair across the room. He threw his suit coat onto the table and almost ran into his room. He needed either a cold shower or a good wank, and fast. If he didn't get her out of his system now, he would regret it.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying not to glance to her right. The Muggle Studies Professor had his back turned to the class, helping a student with their work. Cormac was sitting next to her, cold and unfriendly. She'd tried to greet him when she saw him, but he'd only glared at her and looked away. Hermione was mildly upset, but also annoyed. He was acting like Ronald had acted in third year when the whole Scabbers ordeal had happened.

He was acting like a prat just because she'd turned him down. She would have accepted had he gone about it in a less insulting manner. A small crease appeared between her brows as she thought. She didn't consider herself beautiful but she knew she wasn't horribly ugly either, and besides, brains mattered more than looks! It was her intelligence that she prized most. What if she was plain? She would still have her smarts so she wouldn't care. Cormac had fancied her only because she happened to be attractive as well as intelligent, and that was what bothered her.

The bell rang at that moment, startling her, and she hurried to pack up her things. Cormac stood and brushed past her rudely. She sighed angrily.

They were heading down to the dungeons again to patrol, the ancient castle sat eerie and dark, groaning ominously down in its depths. The only sounds were those of their feet and the flickering flames on the torches along the wall. They walked in silence, and when they reached the stairs, he went first, too lost in his thoughts to allow her to pass first. Unfortunately, she didn't notice for she was also lost in thought, her brain entirely focused on her Ancient Runes essay which she was re-translating inside her head. As consequence of not paying attention, she hardly realized when she skipped a step and fell into him, bringing him down to the ground.

Draco had been halfway down the steps when a curious scuffling noise caught his attention and he turned round only to have something collide with him so roughly the air was knocked out of his lungs in a harsh groan. He was surprised, monumentally so, to find himself on the ground with a gasping Granger lying flush against him, her small palms clenched against his chest. It took him a moment to realize she had fallen down the steps, his back hurt from having slammed onto the ground.

Granger herself seemed not to have realized what had happened just yet, she was still gasping for breath and her body trembled. Quickly enough, her eyes cleared and she realized she perceived him underneath her, and those beautiful brown eyes widened and her lips parted. He fought to contain his grin as she began to splutter and apologize, flitting her hands over his head worryingly, checking for an injury. He ignored her ramblings, only focused on her body on top of his. The weight of her on him, the way she was unknowingly straddling him, her thigh brushing against his crotch every now and then, causing the slightest yet most delightful friction. He could feel himself begin to harden, and it took great effort for him to think of something else. He wanted to throw her down beneath him and shag her senseless. But she was still apologizing, her hands on his arms. He had to get her off of him before he did something he would regret later.

He quickly reached up, caught her wrists and she finally ceased her noise, looking at him concernedly.

"I'm fine. Get off me." She visibly relaxed at his statement, but immediately tensed again when she saw the position they were in. She blushed hard as she jerked her wrists away, and stood, not meeting his eye.

He stood up, and silently evanescoe'd the dust of his suit. She still wasn't looking at him; just fixing her hair where her curls had escaped from the bobby pins she'd stuck into her hair. She caught him looking at her, a faint pink staining her cheeks, but she didn't look away, and he impatiently gestured for her to get a move on. She narrowed her eyes and stalked off, not bothering to speak for the rest of the evening.

She whistled again that night, but softly, so he could hardly hear it. Several songs he didn't recognize, but they sounded cheerful-or they would have, had not the echoing given them a warped effect.

He watched her the whole time, recalling how her body had felt. With every day that passed he found himself thinking of the strange witch more and more and he would have been alarmed if he paid any attention to his thoughts. Since their agreement some months ago there had not been a single incident between them and he knew changing that was not a good idea, but as much as he tried he could not deny to himself that he wanted her. Her, of all people! It was irony at its finest, it was laughable, he would have laughed until his voice was gone if the matter weren't so serious.

The girl was like an infection-she was the needle and he had pricked himself with it-now she was in his veins, coursing through him with every breath and it was both exhilarating and terrifying that she had poisoned him so. What was he going to do now that he was stricken?

Completely unaware to the tormented thoughts of her peer, the Head Girl walked on until they were both back inside their common room and she bid him goodnight. Suddenly full of an out of place anger, Draco mumbled his reply and shut himself off in his room, and lied on his bed, stroking himself, thinking of how her body had felt on top of him. Release came easily. He wished he had kissed her. He was dying to taste her again.