Following his dream and growing tired of his solitude, Malfoy found himself increasingly drawn to the captivating Miss Granger. They continued to meet in the library, though always "by chance," and no longer did they have it to themselves. The school was again bustling with its usual activity, full of cheerful students, well rested and happy to be back among their peers. Granger, of course, was always in the middle of a pack with the Weasleys and Potter. Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom and a bunch of the others who had participated in the war on the winning side were also hanging around a lot, which was appropriate because they were now together in a group revered more than any other.
"Pfff!" Malfoy muttered to himself, watching them at breakfast one day from across the Great Hall. "Longbottom, the epitome of cool? What is the world coming to." He smirked and saw Granger wave at him. Had she thought he'd been staring at her with that dumb grin on his face?! He blushed a little and redirected his attention to his cornflakes. After a few minutes he chanced a glance back up at her. Her big, thick mug of a boyfriend had his arm around her and was nuzzling her affectionately. She looked moderately miserable, though she was in fact smiling, however forcedly.
Unable to eat anymore and certainly without any social activities trying him to the place, Malfoy stood and ambled out of the hall. It was a Sunday, so he headed, as usual, along the passage to the library. There were never many people there this early in the morning, so he was hoping to get some privacy. He was quite right; it was deserted. He snatched a book he had been working his way through on his visits and sequestered himself in his favorite corner, where no one ever came. Warm and comfortable, he only managed to turn the page twice before he felt himself nodding and his eyelids heavy. Ah well, no point in stopping it, he thought, and let his eyes close and his head fall back against the wall.
Voldemort won the war, and his followers were prowling the corridors of Hogwarts, or was it the Ministry, immobilizing his enemies. It was a violent, horrible scene, and the air was full of screaming. Malfoy snuck around corners, peering into rooms where horrible torturing and murders were taking place. He saw Potter's head severed with repeated chants of "Sectumsempra" from person who changed from Snape into his father, then turned to him and said, "Ah, Draco, just in time, we have a job for you." He came into the room and saw, to his horror, Granger, chained to the floor and sobbing, clearly having been tortured. "You've got to kill her, Draco!" his father handed him, not a wand, but a sword. Malfoy turned and surveyed the room. All the Weasleys, Dumbledore, half the staff of the school, the whole stupid Order of the Pheonix and half the ministry stood watching with looks of horror and disgust on their faces. They hated him. They loathed him. They thought he was evil.
"Don't… please don't look at me that way!" he protested. "I have to do it! They'll kill me. They'll kill my whole family! She's going to die either way, why does it matter if it's me?! Please, I don't want to, I have to!"
He looked down at Hermione, lying on the floor, no longer sobbing, but now staring at him in disgust like her peers. "Who's making you Malfoy? Who's gonna force you?" He looked around and saw that though the room was full of the opposition, there was no one but his father from the Death Eater's side. His father, however, was not his father, but a great snake, rising from the floor and poised to strike him.
"I've got to do it, Granger, I've got to!" His hands were sweaty in their grip of the sword, and as he tried to raise it he found it was too heavy, it was growing larger and heavier until it, too, rose to strike him. "Please! I'm sorry! I have to do it! I don't have a choice!"
He tried, haphazardly to aim the great silver snake back at the girl on the floor, but it seemed determined to bite him. The ground around him, he found, was covered with great snakes, and one of them rose and began wrapping itself around his shoulders and shaking him from side to side. He knew if he could just kill Granger it would stop and he tried to struggle free from it to get back at her, but she rose from the floor and put her face in his. "Snap out of it, Malfoy! Draco, Draco wake up!"
He blinked. He looked down at his shoulder. There were no snakes there. Just soft, slender, firm hands. He looked back into the face in front of him. Concern. He was trying to kill her, why did she care if he was scared? He stopped struggling. Dream. Dream, I was dreaming. He sighed and leaned back against the wall. "Thank you."
She took her hands off his shoulders but stayed kneeling next to him. "Are you alright, Draco?"
"Yeah, yeah, I was just having a nightmare."
"I can tell, you're covered in sweat and you were yelling and thrashing around."
"Jesus, was I?" he wiped his forehead, he was indeed sweating and out of breath.
"Yes, you're white as a sheet and you were… um… well, you were saying my name."
Malfoy's eyes widened in terror. "Oh no, I wasn't!"
"Afraid so." She smiled apologetically.
"Oh, god." He bent over and put his face in his hands. "Could you be a friend and not ask why?" he muttered, muffled.
"Alright, but its going to drive me crazy." She put her hand back on his shoulder, gently, this time. "You're sure you're alright? I mean, nothing you need to talk about? I know we normally talk about books and things, but, um, if you need to really talk about something serious, I can. I'd be glad to." He looked up at her. "I worry about you, Draco. I do."
He just stared into her eyes for a moment, knowing exactly what he wanted to do more than anything, but knowing too that the odds of it going well were slim. He wasn't sure he could stand it another second while she sat there, her face inches from his own, looking so intimately caring.
This was it. He had to stop himself. He had to stand up, walk away, say something, anything to break the moment or he was going to go through with it, he knew it.
And he did.
He just sat forward the six inches it took and put his hand on her cheek to pull her, gently, so she could get out of it if she wanted, the other three inches to bring their faces together.
He did not kiss her at first, he just held her face with their lips not quite touching, his eyes closed, breathing her breath and waiting for her to pull away, to slap him, but she didn't, and he pressed his lips into hers, mouth slightly open, not pushing his luck, just a simple, straightforward kiss. After a second she opened her mouth a little further and a second after that her hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck. She was kissing him back in full, now, and his other hand went to her waist, pulling her warmth into him. Both her hands were in his hair now, and her tongue was in his mouth. She wanted it as badly as he did, he knew that now. There was a hunger in this kiss he had not expected to be reflected in her. A few seconds after this realization filled him with joy, a few seconds after something in his mind though, maybe, she tore her mouth away and pushed his hands roughly off of her body. She shoved him back down when he started to rise and ran from the library. He knew she continued her pace because he heard Madam Pince shouting at her about it after a period of time sufficient to carry her to the front entrance.
He sighed and slumped back against the wall, conflicted. "Now…" he mused aloud, "was that progress or not?"
