Disclaimer: JK Rowling is love and so is her world of Harry Potter. All things and situations easily recognizable belong to her. Everything else comes from my awful imagination. As always, I make no money from this. (And you can tell, right!)
The day had gone by quickly, the normal routine rendered abnormal due to the upcoming 'appointment' after dinner. Did Hermione really want to go? Not really and yet, very much so. She had, of course, spent the past two months avoiding the blond male, barring the accidental meeting in September and Prefect bi-monthly get-togethers. If she had her way, this particular habit would have held until the end of the year. Alas, it was not to be.
It did not take long for the diminutive witch to decide that Yule sucked.
Small feet carried her rapidly past the library. She had been too nervous to eat a proper dinner and her stomach was both unsettled and faintly growling with hunger. She ignored it, instead focusing on her breath control as she shifted her book bag to her other shoulder and cursed herself for neglecting the feather-light charm to take away the weight. Within a few minutes, she had stepped into the meeting room and slung her bag onto a nearby table.
He wasn't there yet.
Hermione allowed a small sigh to breach the stillness and moved toward a seat in the back of the room, a slightly panicked look gracing her elfin features as she turned her gaze to a nearby wall. She was unsure as to how the conversation would proceed and the idea that she could not know until he showed up only left her feeling flustered and out of sorts. It was a feeling she'd never truly had before, not when it came to the blond Slytherin. However, she was absolutely certain that she hated to feel that way, now.
'I'm early,' she thought. 'He will be here soon enough and then I can calm down. Maybe.'
The sensation of being stared at drew her from her thoughts. With a jerk, she turned to face the doorway and the handsome young wizard who had paused there. He was dressed in black, from head to toe, though for this particular meeting he had neglected his robe. Hermione felt the blush that rose to stain her cheeks but for a long moment, only their eyes spoke. Finally, he broke the silence.
"Hermione, you wanted to see me," he queried, his husky tenor no more than a quiet sort of purr.
The wild-haired witch nodded.
"Well, here I am."
He then strode closer, his lean build moving with an athletic grace, even as his gaze seemed to strip her of her defenses. Hermione felt as if all the oxygen had been torn from the room so she stood and then backed up until her back hit the wall. Her eyes widened at the jolt. The young man only stepped closer before slapping his palms to either side of her head, caging her between his form and the solidness behind her. Those eyes, which had haunted her dreams for months, peered down at her even as a smirk graced his features.
"Where are you going, kitten?"
Hermione blinked, his endearment bringing all of her dreams to mind.
"Um, Theo said that the Head Boy and Girl had to attend the Yule ball together? I just wanted to know if that was the case." Her voice trailed off as she tipped her head downward, breaking away from his piercing gaze.
Draco nodded. She saw it from beneath lowered lashes. He then leaned forward, his patrician nose seeming to inhale the scent of her hair before he dipped his head further and ended up with his body pressed flush against her and his mouth by her ear.
"Yes. It's true. Dumbledore said it would be good for house unity. You will, of course, allow me to pay for your dress and shoes," a purred demand.
"No. I can afford my own..."
The blond young man shook his head and interrupted, "Whether you can afford it or not, custom dictates that I buy it. Therefore, you will allow me the pleasure of doing so."
Hermione shuddered lightly as his voice and breath wafted toward the delicate flesh of her ear and displaced the curling tendrils that lingered there. His left hand moved from the wall and drifted south to anchor itself to her hip, long fingers curled into the pliant flesh. His head dropped lower until his mouth hovered by her neck.
"I will not argue. Especially since I know you were not planning to attend. It would be my pleasure to take care of you and you will not deny me." Again, the sound of two voices traveling through one throat.
Hermione nodded and flicked her gaze to the side so she could study what little she saw of his face. Once he felt her agreement, Draco straightened and stepped back, his hand lingering for but a moment at her hip before he squeezed and then released the slight swell he'd found there.
"Good. Look for something with accents of dark green. The money will be sent to you within the next day or so." He smiled at her, turned and then left her without a backward glance.
The frizzy-haired female exhaled and slumped against the wall. Her thoughts raged and her body trembled but she could not deny that there was something that drew her to him. Was he Veela? Was she his mate? Could she, would she, reject him?
Somehow, she did not think so.
~Break~
Draco whistled as he walked back to his room, hidden away in the bowels of the Dungeon. The conversation with Hermione had gone far better than he'd hoped and her response to his nearness had been everything he'd desired. There was an air about her, it felt like knowledge and he wondered if she had guessed, if she knew. He didn't think so but even if she did, would that be too terrible?
'Imagine all of the conversations I could avoid,' he thought, contemplatively. 'Imagine how much easier it would be.'
Soon enough, he entered the Slytherin common room and noted, with a pleased expression, that Theo was playing chess against an exceedingly plump fifth-year girl by name of Helena. Draco settled himself on a nearby couch and watched the game as his mind wandered back to the meeting he'd had with Hermione. A smile flitted across his features as he remembered the way her body felt against his, the way her smell pervaded his very being.
Was the attraction, the NEED, growing? Could love be far behind, at least on his side? He did not know and his mother could not tell him. She was not the Veela in his immediate family and the one who could have told him was gone, sucked away by death and the grave. He didn't mind though. He'd had enough of the mess his father had left behind. The truth was he wanted to discover more on his own...and he would
