Hey guys! Really, really sorry about the delay! I know I keep saying I'll update more often, and I'm sorry I haven't lived up to that. I'll continue to try, but honestly, I'm quite busy.
Anyhow, this chapters a bit short, but I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter Seven: The Broom Closet
Draco could feel the tension swelling in the air of the narrow halls. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Potter and Weasley exchanging satisfied looks; Hermione was staring with her mouth gaping.
He couldn't move. Every muscle in his body, from his head to his toes, was locked in place. Nerves throughout him twitched anxiously, sweat leaked from his pores. His eyes were glued on Hermione – her usually gentle face now replaced with a look of pure distain.
At first, nothing seemed real to her. She didn't believe her eyes; she knew Malfoy was always bad news, but this…she hadn't ever seen it coming. And then, very slowly, a tingling feeling prickled the skin on her feet, gradually rising through her body. As it reached her arms, they fell limp; the books she was cradling spilling onto the floor below.
"Wha-…" She tried to speak, but couldn't find the words to express the emotions stirring inside her. Closing her mind, she searched her mind for something to say.
Draco closed his eyes, taking in a large breath. Everything bad seemed to happen to him. Never, he thought to himself, will I get the chance to be with Granger. I've blown it again.
"Malfoy's just attacked this girl," Harry said sourly, pointing at Eve and breaking the silence.
Hermione's eyelids flew open instantly – her knapsack, which was slung over her shoulder hording at least ten books, fell to the ground with a loud thud.
With finality in her voice, she locked eyes with Draco. "Get off her."
He obeyed, climbing off Eve. She came to life immediately; breathing heavily, scrambling from her place on the floor. Taking her knapsack in her hand, she slung the gray bag over her right shoulder in a rush. A few quills dropped, but she didn't bother to gather them. With a last, fearful gander at Malfoy, she scurried away, not caring where she was going as long as she was away from that monstrous crowd.
Draco had been absentmindedly staring at her as she left; the horrid thoughts wouldn't leave his head. Images of himself, a lonely fifth year walking the halls companionless while couples snogged all around him, floated through his head. And Hermione, holding the hand of Viktor Krum and kissing his lips tenderly while leaning against the large, oak doors that guarded Hogwarts. The imagery made Draco's stomach bubble in disgust.
"Come with me," From her place at the end of the hallway, Hermione commanded. Her voice was slightly shaky.
Draco didn't hear her, he couldn't hear her. The thoughts blocked his senses; his eyes were glossy and clouded, sweat pooled in the palms of his hands.
"Malfoy!"
Draco came back to his senses. He blinked his gray eyes rapidly, trying to regain focus. Reluctantly, he turned toward Hermione, staring into her brown orbs.
"Did you hear me?"
He shook his head as to say 'no'.
Hermione glared at him. "I said come with me."
Not wanting to argue, he followed her as she trailed from the hall. Potter and Weasley glowered at him as he walked by. Neither of them said a word.
Hermione's frizzy hair and black robes furled out behind her as she briskly trotted through the halls. Her wand was in her hand, and, Draco noticed, her knapsack and books were still in the hallway with Potter and Weasley. He assumed they would take them back to the common room for her.
"Keep up," Hermione's voice sounded ahead of him. Hurrying his pace, he neared closer to her backside. She took no notice of him, her eyes determinedly fixed on the hall ahead of her.
Without warning, she made an abrupt turn, making her way into a tightly packed closet. Draco followed suit, nearly ramming into the wall of the small vacancy.
Brooms leaned against the stone walls and white cobwebs dangled from the corners of the ceiling. A few robes were hanging from hooks on the walls and a box containing Quidditch balls sat, dusty and cold, in the corner. A small chain swayed leisurely in front of his pale face; he followed it with his gray eyes until it met with round light bulb. Just as his eyes met the object, light poured from the bulbous object, a glow lighting up the dinky room.
"Why?" Hermione demanded in a whisper.
Draco ran his eyes down from the light bulb to its chain, and finally to Hermione's hand on the very end of it. He avoided her eyes; he was certain that if he looked into them, he'd flush bright red and crack under the pressure. This wasn't like him. He never had gotten so worked up about anyone before.
Hermione's eyes danced with angry flames as she stared into his bleach-blond hair. "Why, Malfoy, did you do that to her?"
"Because," He said simply, feeling hot, sticky sweat gather on his forehead.
"Elaborate," Growling, Hermione stepped closer to him. Draco could narrowly see that her hands were in fists, straining to slam her knuckles into his face. It reminded him bitterly of the time she had slapped him hard in their third year; he didn't want her to hit him again.
Gradually but deliberately, he lifted his head until his stone-gray eyes met her brown ones. Her thin eyebrows were furrowed; her brow was deeply lined with suppressed gall and her cheeks a bright pink. Hermione's stance, her appearance…it all emitted the foulest of rage.
But he didn't want her to be mad. No, not anymore mad than she already was. He'd done enough to her, Draco knew, and to make her even angrier would be ridiculous. Summing up the courage, he inhaled a large breath and opened his thin lips to speak.
"I thought she was you," Directly to her face, he said it loud and clear.
The look on Hermione's face that followed was one of confusion. One of her eyebrows raised higher than the other, her lips pulled tight and her cheek twitched slightly. Her expression was hard to read; Draco couldn't tell whether she was angry or surprised, perhaps both, and maybe she was just plain confused. Nevertheless, he continued on, closing his eyes as he spoke with great bravery.
"I thought she was you, Hermione," Draco began, heaving a sigh. "I've been trying to get your attention for at least two months, if not more. But with Potter and Weasley around, I haven't had much of a chance." She stared at him with wide, brown eyes. "Four years ago, when I first saw you on the Hogwart's Express, I loathed you. I hated you like I thought I couldn't hate anyone before. You were smart, too smart, and to make it worse, a filthy mudblood." A frown instantly appeared on her face. "Even last year I disliked you. Teachers favored and praised you because you knew every answer before they even asked the question, and the attention you received from being that stupid Potter's best friend bugged the shit out of me. But now…" He opened his eyes slowly to meet hers, fearing the reaction she would after he finally let out the truth.
"But now I don't hate you, Hermione. I don't think I ever could again. You're brilliant, you're caring, you don't let others stand in your way…" Gingerly, he found her hands with his own, gently cupping them in the curve of his palm. To his surprise, she didn't pull them away, but continued to stare blankly into his eyes. "I've never liked a person the way I like you. Hell, I've rarely ever liked a person. But I can't explain it, the attraction I feel to you now…I haven't any logical reason for it, it just surged through me at the beginning of this year and I've been attempting to pursue it since…"
He ended awkwardly, though he did not look down. His eyes remained locked with hers, studying her face, trying to make some emotion of her expression. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn't.
Hermione stood there with her hands in his, her body closer to Draco's than she had ever thought it would be. Somehow, even though he'd said it clear as daylight, she couldn't comprehend his words. Draco Malfoy…like her? Preposterous. She knew very well that a Malfoy would never be caught dead with a muggle-born witch like herself, no matter how smart or beautiful she was. And that was another thing; he'd never thought she was beautiful. To him, as far as she knew, she was simply a know-it-all mudblood, that couldn't keep her mouth shut for two seconds, even if her life depended on it.
But here, right now, the unthinkable was happening. Never in her life would she have thought that a high-class, Slytherin boy like Draco would fall for her. Not once had she thought it to be probable. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, trying to make sense of it all, or wake up from this disturbed dream…
The sudden rush of hot air on her neck made her gasp, unprepared for the sensation. Cautiously, barley even daring to, she opened her eyes slightly to find Malfoy's face beside her neck, breathing slow and steadily. He pulled her in close to his chest, his well-defined, warm and muscular body.
Something inside her made her suddenly forget her morals, her thoughts against Draco…she willingly leaned into him, hesitantly at first, laying her head against his shoulder and taking a long, steady breath of air. He wrapped his arms around the small of her back and held her to him while his fingers running through her frizzy, brown curls.
And then is voice, a soft, gentle voice much unlike his usual tone, whispered something that even Hermione could not ever have dreamed to hear from him in her wildest fantasies.
"I love you, Hermione."
Bit of a cliffie! Sorry, but it had to be done. ;) R&R!
