Another treat from yours truly. I'm too excited to post this one, so forgive spelling mistakes and such :P
Sleeping with Granger was never one of Draco's fantasies. Ok, so it was actually sleeping beside her. Besides, the act was innocent, but he wasn't completely oblivious to the fact that they were teenagers and he was guy, who still had naughty thoughts running through his head. But he had to concede, the act was very much irrepressible; the situation begged for it as well.
At least that's what he told himself.
Granger's fate was suddenly turned into rubble. Who would have thought she had been a target. Well, scratch that. That part was actually quite obvious, what with her close ties with Potter. But really now, who would've expected and anticipated such thing to happen? He indeed felt sorry for her. Her innocent parents were merely collateral damage. His father…his Death eater of a father deserved to die, not some poor girl's dad. The irony of it was simple: bad things happen to good people, and good things happen to bad people. Now, how screwed up was that?
When he saw her the moment she had entered their quarters with blood shot swollen eyes and tear streaked face, he immediately felt concern. He did not know why that was his initial reaction, though. Normally, he would have laughed at her Mudblood face and rant about how despicable her kind was/ But no. His heart ached at the sight of the girl. She was clutching her fists hard that blood started to ooze from her skin. It was an odd sight, to say the least.
He wanted to be close to her, he grudgingly admitted to himself. Maybe he wanted her to be his friend. May be he wanted her to trust him, and give him a second chance. So when the situation presented itself, he did what was necessary. But he had not thought that it would go far as him sleeping with her. It's not like they did something like kissing—or more. No. They simply lay beside each other. She even found it comfortable to sleep on his chest.
But when he got a bit bored, he started playing with her hair, twirling little locks of it on his finger. He even allowed himself a good sleep. With her.
Shit. Since when did they get that close?
Or maybe, when Granger was in that state of mind, she wasn't aware of what she was doing, or what was happening around her. Damn, the girl was a lunatic.
When it was about four thirty in the afternoon, Draco managed to leave her room without waking her up. Waiting for her to wake up would be even weirder. So grudgingly, he went back to the Slytherin common rooms, and to his great dismay, he found Astoria sitting on one of the sofas.
"Hi," she greeted merrily, motioning him to sit beside her.
Draco nodded tersely and sat across her instead.
Astoria cleared her throat and proceeded. "So Blaise told me you were going to ask me to be your date for the Ball."
Now why did Blaise have to put his finger on everything? Draco bit his tongue before he could rant about a lot of unnecessary things. "Yeah, I was," he said instead.
"You know, you needn't ask," Astoria purred. "Although I would've said yes in a milli-second," she smiled smugly.
Disgusting. Draco wanted to puke. He wanted to run away from her, going back to sleeping with Granger seemed like a wonderful idea. "What's with the face, Draco? Something wrong?" He heard her say.
"Nothing," he mumbled. Fuck, what has he gotten himself into?
He stayed with Astoria in the common room until dinner. He almost wanted to jump in joy when they were about to leave. Hearing Astoria praise him was scary. He should be flattered, but no. The attention she was giving him was nauseating.
Ooo
It was in the evening of Monday when Draco was curtly greeted by Granger—who was, waiting for him in the Head's quarters, it seemed.
She stood still, and looked at him nervously. And then there was a pink tinge on her cheeks. My, my, my. What was Granger blushing for? She looked quite cute.
"You," she said, pointing her finger at him. "What's your problem with me?" She asked heatedly.
Shit. So his supposedly discreet avoidance of her wasn't actually discreet. What was he supposed to say? Oh gee, Granger. I've been avoiding you the past few days because I still can't believe we slept together—no matter how innocent or dirty that may sound—, while I was thinking of shagging you. Really, no big deal, right?
"Well?" Granger asked further. She seemed to be getting impatient.
Draco made his best impassive face. "Nothing, Granger. Move. Have lots of things to do," he sneered then. He started working towards his room but Granger so dramatically blocked her.
"Then why were you avoiding me?"
Draco sighed irritably. "I wasn't, Granger. Would you so kindly move. I'm tired and I need to do my homework."
Hermione pointed her finger at his chest quite harshly. "You were, and you know it. Am I that disgusting, Malfoy? Has the entirety of your pureblood existence tainted that much because of what you did?"
Draco let out a tired sigh. "You're talking nonsense, Muggle. Now move."
Hermione's eyes went big. Muggle? Well that's a laugh. So he stopped calling him a Mudblood, Muggle was a new trend now, then? "So you still have those nasty prejudices then. Gods Malfoy. You're such a dick."
What—what? Why was she attacking him today? Of all bloody days! "I haven't said or done anything that would annoy you, Granger. So stop harassing me."
"You called me muggle, Malfoy. I'm not deaf," Hermione retored.
"Well you are one, aren't you?"
"Hence the nasty prejudices. I hate you!" Hermione yelled.
"I hate you more!" Draco yelled back. He glared at Hermione and sighed afterwards. "Look, I don't, ok? And I'm over those prejudices. I'm here talking to you, aren't I?" Hermione just narrowed her eyes at him, not flinching at his nasty glare. "I think the words you are looking for are: thank you?"
Hermione had the gall to laugh. She stared at him for a moment and shook her head. She looked back at him and her face softened a little. She smiled tightly. "Yeah, well. Thanks, Malfoy. There. Soothed your ego?"
Yes! It fucking did! "Wasn't hard to say that, huh? You're welcome, Granger. I've been extending my charities to all sorts of people. You're actually fortunate you're one of them," Draco said smugly. That was rich. He could kiss his arse if he wanted to. When Hermione did not respond, he cleared his throat. "So can I go to my room now?" He asked.
"Um, yeah," Hermione said, but made no move to give way. She walked closer to Draco and stood on her toes and reached up to give him a peck on his lips. Seemingly shocked by her own actions, she looked at him with big doe eyes. She shook her head briefly and mumbled incoherent things to herself. Without embarrassing herself further, she turned her back from Draco and went straight to her room.
"Fuck, yes," was all Draco could say, before entering his own room.
Ooo
"Mum sent me my robes for the Ball. It's actually decent this time," Ron said as he sat beside Hermione. She had opted to stay in the library during her free time. Instead of wallowing herself in sadness and self pity, she went to the library to indulge into some good reading.
Hermione paused her reading, and looked at Ron. "I'm not going, Ron. I'm sorry." Then she returned her attention to her book.
Ron choked on his own saliva. "What? But, why?"
"I don't feel like it. There's been a lot going on," Hermione said without heat. She wasn't in the mood to gush over the stupid ball.
"Like what, then?"
Hermione shook her head, still giving the book her undivided attention.
"Hermione…" Ron whined. He absentmindedly placed his hand on Hermione's leg and stroke it.
Hermione shot her head up and glared at Ron. "What exactly are you doing?" She asked brusquely. Ron then removed his arm and let it fall on his side. "I'm not just up for it, ok? I'm sorry. I…if I'd change my mind, I'll let you know."
Ron sighed. "Ok if that's really what you want. But I hope you change your mind." He cleared his throat and stood up from his chair. "I have to go. I have Quidditch practice with Harry and the time. You should come check me out sometime, since we're together now. Just saying," Ron said bitterly. When Hermione did not respond and merely looked at him, he left.
Only a few minutes have passed until she was interrupted yet again by another unwelcomed presence. "This seat taken?" She heard him ask. Hermione's throat had gone dry and her heart started beating erratically against her chest.
ooo
She was bothered by his presence, and he knew it. He was milking it, and she knew that, too. Hermione had been reading the same line for the nth time, and it was annoying her. She glanced at Malfoy, who was smirking at her.
"What?" He asked innocently.
Oh Gods. He was going to use it against her.
"Why are you so bothered by my presence, Granger?" Draco proceeded to ask. He leaned forward as he clasped his hands and placed them on the table.
Hermione stuck her nose up in the air and glared at him. "I'm not, Malfoy. Don't be so thick. If you are just going to annoy me, you better leave," she said hostly.
"So touchy, Granger," Draco drawled. He then leaned on his chair. "So I assume you are going with Weasley to the Ball?"
"I'm not going," Hermione snapped.
"Why not? It seems Weasley has been looking forward to it. The way he looks longingly at you all the bloody time makes me sick."
Hermione furrowed her brows. "How would you say such thing? Well, unless—"
Draco interrupted her before she could finish her sentence. Damn. He slipped on that one. "Why are you not going to the Ball?"
"I'm mourning the loss of my father, Malfoy. Besides, that ball is the least of my priorities. I'll be leaving on the evening of the dance, attend my dad's burial the next day," Hermione said acridly. Malfoy seemed uncomfortable under her glare so he shifted he seat and looked back at his book.
"I see," Draco said and cleared his throat. "Potter and Weasley or the Weaslette coming with you, then?"
"No, they don't know about it."
Draco looked at Hermione quizzically. "Why didn't you tell them?"
"I don't feel like it."
Well wasn't she snappy today. Draco rubbed his name uncomfortably. "Well, I think you should. I mean, if Potter's out there to save the world and all that crap, he must know about these things."
Hermione raised his eyes to look at him. Was that concern written on his face? Before she could decipher what it really was, his face had gone back to its usual impassiveness.
"If anything, Granger, you should watch your back. I mean, it's no surprise He is out to get you since you're bloody friends with Potter. Weasley should do the same. Although I think you're better off without them. Cut your ties with them, if that's necessary. You know He won't hesitate to kill you if that's what he really wants."
Hermione felt her eyes sting. His words sounded too harebrained, but she knew he was simply stating the truth. "Lay off it, Malfoy. It's none of your business," she said weakly.
"He's going to kill you, Granger. You, your family, Weasley, hell, he'd kill every bloody Gryffindor trying to protect your precious Potter!" Draco said, ignoring her previous remark. He felt his blood boil. "I've worked for him for a short time. But the snake's bloody predictable, one could simply read through his mind," Draco seethed. "Mind you when I tell you this, Granger. Until he gets Potter, he is not going to stop killing people around him. You know it, I know it. Everyone knows it. Stop being a bloody Heroine."
Hermione flinched at his words. And fuck, she was now crying openly at him. What was she supposed to say? She cares for Harry. He is her friend. She would help him through it all. "My loyalties are with him," she said instead. Somehow, she felt ashamed of this. She sounded so small and fragile.
Draco slammed his hand on the table, effectively surprising Hermione. "And they said you are the smartest witch of our age. I say you're not. You'd prefer kissing Potter's arse than actually caring for yourself. I don't know what's with you Gryffindors. You choose to offer your life to some measly kid," he said, incensed.
"And what about you, deatheater? You kiss your Lord's feet to spare your life, don't you?" Hermione hissed.
Draco straightened his back and glared viciously at the little bint. How dare her. "You don't know anything."
"I know enough, Malfoy! You used to preach about your Lord's power!" Tears were now streaming down her face. She had to breathe between her sobs. "A—and you don't tell me these things as if you care!"
"Well I do, you bigoted bitch! I care!"
For the nth time that week, she felt the tightening of her chest and the erratic pounding of her heart. No retort would come out of her mouth, and she knew it. Malfoy himself was breathing heavily.
"What's going on here, Hermione?" A voice interrupted. Hermione shifted her gaze to the boy standing behind Malfoy. Harry. "Is this ferret bothering you?" He asked irritably.
Draco abruptly stood from his chair, gathered his books on the table and thrusted them carelessly inside his book bag. He turned around, and left the library, still fuming with rage.
