Chapter Six: Bird Watching

She was curled up in the window nook in the Head Common Room, knitting by hand a hat made of a deep plum. Her hair was loose, fanning over her shoulders and chest. The sunlight catching in her brown hair made it glow; making each strand look like it was made of a honeyed blonde. He wanted to pull it and hear her scream. His gaze traveled slowly down her form-she was wearing Muggle clothing, he hadn't noticed before. A simple dark green knit jumper and dark jeans. She wore long, multicolored socks and some thick boots.

It was a half hour before dinner; he was sitting at their table writing a letter to his mother, but had gotten distracted and now he was watching her. He had been for a while now. As insidiously as a siren she demanded his attention whenever she was near, and who was he to resist the sweet call? Was he even strong enough to? The answer had proved time and time again to be in the negatives. Ever since they had come to that 'truce' he had stayed right away from her, believing it was best but little by little she drew him in, and his resistance almost gone, he continued to succumb.

What had he learned from all his observations?

That she was remarkably similar to a bird: surrounded by an air of delicacy, but strong and extremely intelligent. Every movement she made was graceful-her heavy curls danced with the smallest shake of her head, the way she walked, how she moved her hands-fascinating. Her laugh he compared to bells sounding; high and beautiful. Every time he heard it he wanted to capture it as soon as it left her white throat and store it for his ears only. He knew sometimes she could tell he was watching her; as any bird would when it realizes itself in the company of a stranger, she would tense up and freeze. Draco found her unease delicious.

She was flighty. Always moving, never really still. Her foot would tap a quiet rhythm on the floor, her fingers would twitch, her lips curved with secret smiles. Being the busybody she was, she always walked with purpose; but in her unguarded moments he'd notice she would lose the focus in her eyes and she would stare in rapture at the ceiling, the walls, anything, as if seeing it for the first time. Like she was taking in every minute detail. Like she was discovering wonderful secrets in everything.

And there was still her music.

The sweetest, purest sound he was sure he would ever hear. No being could make music like she. The sounds leaving her lips moved him so much that he often longed to join in but he always held back, letting the little bird sing her song. Even when she was not there with him she was always there in her song. Wherever he went he fancied he could hear her, her music dancing around his ears, as if daring him to catch her.

It unsettled him, that he wanted her. He wanted to rake his hands through her curls, to kiss her, every part of her and claim her as his. Wanted to hear it from her own mouth, the blissful confirmation. Sometimes her voice haunted his dreams. Shaking his head lightly, he tore his gaze away from her and looked out the window. A heavy snow was falling, framing the diamond panes on the window behind her. Would it be too much to hope for a storm?

Minutes passed slowly in the moment of peace. The clicking of her aluminum needles lulled him and he closed his eyes, folded his arms and leaned back into his chair, stretching his legs out before him. Before he knew it he was asleep.

Hermione heard a soft snore and looked up from her project. She was surprised to see Malfoy was sitting at their table, dead asleep. She peered behind her through the window, and was surprised to see how dark it was outside.

Hermione checked the time and put down her work, flexing her hands. Dinner would be starting soon, and if she left now she could just make it. She tucked her nearly finished hat into her fabric shoulder bag and slowly walked over to the sleeping Slytherin.

He looks so peaceful, she thought. Should I wake him?

His face was relaxed and calm, his pale lashes resting on his cheekbones and if she looked close enough, she could barely make out the lines on his forehead from all that sneering and frowning he did. His chest rose and fell slowly, a strand of his pale hair was falling into his eyes.

She crept closer, unsure of what to do.

Things had been going well recently, considering the circumstances. Malfoy kept a frosty distance much of the time, except for when they had duties to perform, but she'd didn't quite mind. They only spoke each other when necessary, unless one or the other grew bored of the silence and broke it with an attempt at conversation, which usually didn't end well, though Malfoy didn't have any more outbursts and Hermione had to be satisfied with that, though she realized he had never apologized for the assault.

That there were less arguments between them was nothing to gloat over-neither was still comfortable with the other and Hermione often sensed an anger bubbling inside him that was directed at her. She often felt him watching her, and didn't know what to make of it, but as long as there was no repeat of the kiss she managed to ignore it just fine.

He spent more time in their dorm than she did. Hermione went to the Gryffindor common room as often as she could when she was not busy studying, preferring the company of her closest friends over Malfoy, who usually greeted her coldly, as if he resented her presence there, which he probably did.

They had met with Dumbledore again, and he'd been delighted to hear of their 'progress'. Hermione didn't have the heart to tell him how things really were. Even if they weren't as bad as they'd been the first few days, there was little to no chance of any of it changing.

His features shifted, and he was frowning now, small beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His breathing quickened, and he began to mumble incoherently, something she couldn't quite understand, but it sounded urgent.

Hermione tipped her head and carefully took one step closer, reaching out to wake him when his grey eyes suddenly flew open and without thinking he snatched her arm and pressed her down backwards against the table, snarling. It happened so quickly she couldn't even cry out as her back slammed into the table, but she knew there would be bruises later. Her back throbbed with pain and she gasped, trying to find breath. He was gripping her arms and breathing hard, his eyes were still clouded with sleep and rage and whatever he had been dreaming about, and in her alarm she finally found her voice.

"Malfoy, stop! Let me go!" He froze at the sound of her voice, eyes clearing, and he looked down at her with surprise and anger, his sensuous lips parted slightly. Backing away, he led her away from the table, never letting go of her.

She was regarding him with wide eyes, but they held more concern than fear.

Damn Gryffindor. He took a deep breath and pulled her closer to him, though she tried to break out of his grip, speaking slowly and deliberately.

"I don't know how your Muggle parents raised you, but you shouldn't bother someone who's sleeping." His voice was a little raspy from sleep, but as serious as ever.

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes at his demand, and looked him square in the eye. "It looked like you were having a nightmare. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Malfoy appeared a little taken aback. "I don't need your help. My rule still stands. Don't touch me."

Hermione shook her head. "So sorry, your Majesty. I'll remember that for next time." She gave a mocking curtsy and headed to the door. "Dinner starts in three minutes. And I'll thank you not to treat me like your inferior," she snapped. "Regardless of our lineage we both have magic in our blood and that makes us equal."

She left, shutting the door a bit harder than necessary.

Malfoy stared after her angrily before shrugging on his robe. 'It looked like you were having a nightmare...' Exactly what had he dreamt about then? The dream had been forgotten the second he'd touched her so it was useless trying to remember now. Picking up his letter, he scribbled a last line or two, stood and abruptly left the Head Common Room, heading towards the Owlery.

"Letter to your mother?" Blaise had joined him, striding quickly to catch up. Draco nodded.

They climbed up the narrow steps to the small tower. There was a young couple canoodling by the door, staring wide eyed at him as he stepped into the open tower.

"Leave." Draco snapped. They fled.

"You always did know how to strike fear in their little hearts," Blaise remarked, chuckling.

Draco shrugged. He motioned to a pristine white owl. It hopped down and he attached the letter to its leg. "To my mother. You know where she is," he murmured. The owl gave a hoot and took off. He watched it leave, sweeping his eyes along the white scenery.

"You've been spending an awful lot of time with the Mudblood," Blaise commented, stroking an owl perched beside him. Draco stiffened.

"Need I remind you that I am Head Boy? She is Head Girl. Whether I want to or not I must spend a lot of time with her. You shouldn't even be complaining. You've been far too busy with Pansy from what I hear."

Blaise grinned, shrugging. "I wasn't complaining. She's pretty, for a Mudblood, you should have noticed by now. Have you tried to bed her yet?"

Draco closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, feeling the cold air surround him, shaking his head. The images came suddenly, of her body moving over his, her hands touching his face in concern, the day he'd kissed her, when she'd grabbed at his arm. The day he'd slammed her into the wall just outside of Dumbledore's office right after she'd slapped him. The dreams she had shown up in thereafter.

"The thought has come up once or twice."

Every night, in your bed. Every morning, when you hear her wake.

Blaise smirked. "So what's stopping you?"

Draco gave Blaise a nasty look. "She's a Mudblood, Zabini. I would sully myself by fucking her. She's pretty enough, but not with the trouble."

His friend didn't seem bothered. "I've done it before. I know my mother has had several Muggle lovers. No one of our kind seems to really care. Just as long as you don't marry her or get her pregnant. Hell, even Pansy's done it, and you know how her family is. It's just sex."

"And torturing someone with a Crucio is just tickling them with magic."

Blaise looked curious. "Do you think she's thought of it?"

"I know she hasn't. I'd put a hefty sum on her choosing a Blast-Ended Skrewt over me, and I'd do the same."

Blaise laughed. "I'd forgotten about those awful things. Still, I don't believe you. I think if she came to your door and asked you'd be ready at a second's notice. "

"She'd only ever do that if someone used an Imperius curse on her."

"Maybe if you weren't such a troll she'd actually consider it," Blaise said, snickering. Draco stared at him until he stopped laughing.

"Well, if she ever comes to her senses, be sure to woo her quickly before Potter or Weasley snatch her up."

It's a surprise they haven't already, Draco thought. A witch like her...

"If your mission goes well, perhaps the Dark Lord will gift her to you. He's done it before."

Draco stared out at the mountains and forests surrounding the school, not really taking it in. His mission. He'd almost forgotten about it, with all the recent events and all. It had been the only thing his father had spoken of during the summer, that it was upon him to restore glory to the Malfoy name, and that he was Voldemort's best hope.

The skin on his left forearm seemed to burn slightly as he thought of this, and he unconsciously pressed his arm against a stone support that held up an arch in the tower, wincing slightly as the cold bit through his clothing.

Granger as a gift... The idea was too tempting. He ignored the sudden flood of images that rushed forward. But he would have to work carefully to ensure success if he was to ask for her. The Dark Lord did not reward failure.

"Bit chilly out, isn't it." Blaise blew into his bare hands, shuddering for effect.

Draco nodded and turned away. "Let's go eat."

"Hermione, why's McLaggen glaring daggers at you? Is something wrong?" Ron spoke softly over Hermione's shoulder as she reclined in her armchair with Hogwarts, a History on her lap.

They were in the Gryffindor Common Room, sitting by the fire. It was late and there were only a small handful of people still hanging about. Hermione looked over to where Ron was staring, and sure enough, Cormac, sitting on a table by the entrance looked away not a second later, scowling at the stairs leading to the boys' dormitories, aware he had been caught.

"Not really, he only asked me out and I said no. I suppose he's still quite upset over it, though I can't imagine why." Hermione said, flipping a page. Harry was dozing in a chair opposite her, glasses slightly askew, pieces of parchment slowly sliding off his lap.

"McLaggen asked you out?" Ron gaped at her, blue eyes wide and disbelieving, but snapped his mouth shut at the glare she sent him over the top of her book. He glanced back to the subject of their conversation, whose jaw twitched with anger.

"I don't like this. He looks more than upset. Maybe I should wake Harry and we'll talk to him…" Ron was worried, his fists clenching slightly as he hovered over her.

That was it, Hermione decided with a snap of her book. She stood and sat him down onto the chair she had risen from. "Ronald. It's alright. I can take care of myself and you know it. I don't want you and Harry worrying about this when you've clearly got a load of assignments to work on, ok? Now finish your Charms paper, I'm going to bed. See you at breakfast tomorrow!" she chirped, tucking her book under her arm, and walked quickly out of the common room and giving Cormac a wide berth before her friends could protest.

The second she was outside of the room she let out a small breath as she hurried to the Head Common Room, passing through several hallways and going up some flights of stairs until she reached her destination.

"Dancing Hippogriffs," she whispered to the portrait, and hopped into the room as the portrait swung open.

It was pitch black inside; she stumbled twice before setting her hand down on the table, which she bumped into in the darkness. The common room was so dark her eyes hurt as they frantically moved around, seeking light. She couldn't even see her own hands in front of her. She placed her book down onto what she assumed was the counter, and turned quickly as she sensed movement by the window.

She gave a small gasp as she saw a silhouette of a man standing by the window, the weak light from outside outlined his form. He wasn't facing her, that much she could tell. Rather, he was staring down, out into the grounds; his left arm was over his head, leaning on the wooden frame of the window.

"M-Malfoy?" she cursed herself for sounding so afraid. Clearing her throat, she called him again. "Why is it so dark in here? Why aren't the lights working?" she jumped as he responded, turning slowly to face her.

"It would seem Peeves has interfered with the charms placed in here, Granger. Either that or someone is playing a little joke on us."

He sounded cold and detached, as always, which didn't surprise her. But there was something else there. A slight strain to his voice, like he was in some small amount of pain, or was holding himself back from doing something. It set her on edge, but she carefully maneuvered her way towards where she assumed the fire place was, bringing out her wand.

"Lumos!"

Nothing happened. Hermione frowned.

"It doesn't work, I've already tried." She could almost feel him standing behind her, his cold breath stirred her hair.

"Well, have you tried telling anyone? Does Dumbledore know? Filch?" He answered in the negative. She let out a small noise of impatience. It was Friday! She was not going to spend the rest of her weekend in the dark with an oddly behaving Malfoy!

"The Headmaster is out on undisclosed business, and Filch doesn't care. Too busy hunting Peeves at the moment." He inhaled, a little more deeply than he would have needed to, seeing as he was standing just behind her. Hermione felt the fine hairs on her arms prickle.

He took a step forward, and his solid body was pressing into hers just so slightly from behind. Gooseflesh erupted on her skin, and suddenly she felt how cold it was in the room with the fire gone. She was sure she would have been able to see her breath had the light been restored. Hermione quickly turned to face him, walking backwards to the door that led to her room, or rather, where she thought it would have been. Her other four senses suddenly heightened as she heard his muffled footsteps on the thick carpet. She couldn't see him but she was damned if she was wrong. He was following her.

Perhaps if she didn't acknowledge...whatever he was doing he would snap out of it.

"I'm going to bed now, Malfoy."

Soon as I find that blasted door, she grimaced. Hermione inched backwards, reaching out behind her to the wall. If she found the wall, she could navigate herself to her room.

His voice came from the surrounding darkness, "Suit yourself, Granger, provided you can find your room."

Was that a threat? What is up with him?

Hermione shivered, creeping along the dark as she narrowly avoided some heavy object. Felt like a trunk, or a potted plant. Hermione could feel him getting closer, her heart sped up, hands shook, and just as she tried to turn in a different direction, her feet got tangled in something long and slightly cold on the floor. With a small shriek she fell, landing on her side on the carpet. Pain shot up her left arm and through her shoulder, making her drop her wand somewhere on the carpet with a soft thud. Fighting to hold back tears, she scooted backwards, feeling around for her wand as she felt him kneel down in front of her.

She felt his hands wrap around her stockinged ankles and gasped, defensively kicking out at him, trying to shake his hands and the blasted object that had made her fall off.

He cursed. "Damn it, Granger. I'm only trying to help."

It sure didn't seem like he was trying to help, though, because as he finished his sentence he tightened his grip round her ankles and yanked her closer to him. Hermione slid on her backside, reaching out with her hands to shove his hands away.

"Let me go, you oaf!" she pawed at his hands, infuriated by the low chuckle that escaped his throat. She swiped at the back of his hands with her nails, and heard a hiss of pain before she was lying back down on the floor with Malfoy pinning her arms and legs onto the floor with his own body.

"I said let go!" her voice was high and shrill but she didn't care so long as he got well away from her.

Her heart raced, her skin crawled. She did not like this intrusion, not at all. Twisting and shoving, she tried to get the wizard off of her, but that was a daunting task. He was simply too heavy; his strength was greater than her own, something she had been forced to learn too many times, and did not care to be reminded of again.

He dragged the back of his wounded hand over her cheekbones, smearing a line of his own blood over her skin. She twisted her face away from his grasp, trying to bite down on his fingers as they brushed slowly over her lips.

"Damn you, you silly bint. I was only trying to help and look what you've done. Couldn't put your pride aside for one moment, could you?" he snarled at her as he reached down between their bodies.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but exhaled sharply as she felt his cold hand trail down, mere millimeters from her robes. She began to struggle again, words coming out in jumbled heaps.

"No-What are you doing! Get your hands off!"

Herehand connected with his jaw, pushing him away, fingernails digging into his cheek. Draco swore and untangled the scarf from her legs. She was still thrashing, trying to kick out at him, but stopped once he leaned back over and dropped the scarf onto her chest.

"I-Is that my scarf?" she whispered, trying to reach out for it.

"Be more careful with your things, will you, Granger?" He felt no need to explain what her scarf had been doing on the floor in the first place, he simply stood up and left her lying there, with that damned scarf on her chest.

She heard him shut the door to his room, and suddenly, almost like a miracle, the light came. Hermione winced and screwed her eyes shut as the force of the light blinded her momentarily. She vaguely heard the fire crackle, as if it had been going all along.

In an embarrassed rush Hermione stood and threw her scarf at his door. "That wasn't funny, Malfoy!"

She was met with nothing but silence.