Third Afternoon Alone
"Do you feel like lunch?" Draco said after a long silence between them which Hermione had spend reading her Muggle poetry book – Draco had examined the book before letting her read it, but funnily enough she had just laughed at that.
Hermione was just about turn him down when her stomach grumbled noisily. Draco had noticed how she had opened her mouth to say now and started laughing when the sound of her hungry stomach made its way to his ear.
"I think that means yes," he laughed and snatched the book away from her. He was just about to snap it shut when Hermione yelled for him to stop.
"NO!"
Draco stood completely still as a stone and looked at Hermione, who was standing just as still as he. Her stomach made a nervous flip when Draco smirked at her.
"Is there something in this book you want to read?" he asked deviously.
Slowly Hermione nodded. "It's one of my favourite poems…" she whispered and saw Draco's smirk grow. He opened the book and read the poem. His smirk faded and his eyes became clouded. When he looked up at her again his expression was one of deep surprise.
"Who figured," he said incredulously. "That's also one of my favourite poems." And then he started to read it aloud. It was 'She Walks In Beauty' by Lord Byron.
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
Hermione was left absolutely breathless when he had read the last word. His deep voice had turned husky and sensual and his eyes had never strayed from hers. Somehow she felt like he had directed the poem at her. Like he was talking about her. But that was just silly, wasn't it? Draco would never be that sweet or romantic. And definitely not towards her! That was just plain absurd! Hermione shook her head to rid herself of the absurd thoughts sudden wants and longing she felt stir in her.
"Let's get lunch," she said, took the book from Draco and put it on the table. She didn't wait for him to follow her but just marched to the kitchen. When she entered, she sat down and folded her arms over her chest and glared at Draco when he entered right after her. She wasn't completely sure why she was irritated with him, but the point remained that she was. And he couldn't change that. No matter how charmingly he smiled at her he couldn't make her like him.
"What would you like?" he asked all gallantly and flashed her another brilliant smile that made Hermione's breath stick in her throat. What in Merlin's beard was wrong with this picture? Oh, right, she was finding herself falling for Draco Malfoy's phony charm. And why was he suddenly behaving like a servant? Like her servant… was it all just a trick? A part of his plan that he had made with his father? Hermione felt herself grow suspicious of his intentions.
"Just make whatever you'd like," she retorted still cross with him and playing it stubborn.
"Fine," he said still smiling. Apparently nothing could dampen his high spirit. Darn it!
A little angry Hermione watched as he gracefully started pulling ingredients from various cupboards and started throwing them in a pan. He made it look so easy. And he looked rather good too. Not what she was supposed to notice! Only a few seconds later he placed a plate of ham and eggs in front of her. It smelled delicious and she could only just barely keep in her saliva. She forked the egg and tryingly put some of it in her mouth. Merlin, it tasted just as it smelled! It should be illegal to be so mean but such a good cook. She scowled at him, but couldn't keep the façade when she saw his little boyish anticipation.
"It's really good," she heard herself say. And what was worse she felt how she became happy when she watched the smile widen on his face.
"I'm glad you like it," he said and started eating as well all the while watching her.
"Okay, why do you keep on doing that?" she finally snapped and put down her fork. "You're always looking at me."
Draco laughed till his whole body shook.
"You are supposed to figure that out for yourself," his voice was breathless from the laughing. "But you sure are fun when you're agitated." And then he started laughing again. Hermione decided not to do anything about it. He was surprisingly pleasant to be with when he was in this mood.
"So you're telling me," she started saying, "that the fact that you keep staring at me has something to do why we're here?"
Draco stopped laughing and his eyes narrowed. "I said that?"
"Indirectly."
"Then I'll stand by it."
They ate the rest of their lunch in silence. Hermione didn't comment on his eyes resting on her every move. Draco didn't comment on her sudden change of mood from sour to smiley. When they laid their forks down on their plates and leaned back in their chairs the silence grew slightly awkward. Especially when Draco was still staring at her. She felt a blush spread on her already rosy cheeks and she cleared her throat nervously.
"What do we do now?" she asked and avoided his gaze.
"Tell me a theory," Draco demanded. Hermione frowned in confusion.
"Which theory would you like? Einstein's relativity theory? Sigmund Freud's psychoanalysis? Or perhaps Isaac Newton's gravity?"
"Not a theory like that," Draco laughed loudly while he smacked his thighs. "One of your theories!"
"One of mine…?" she trailed off. "I don't know…"
"Come on Hermione, just tell me."
"You called me Hermione." It was a statement. She wasn't mad as she thought she would be. On the contrary she was strangely pleased, although she didn't show it.
"So what?" Draco said just as indifferent as her. "Tell me."
"I have one…" she said hesitantly. "But it's not specific yet…"
"Just spill!"
"I think it is your job to keep me here till your father has Harry and then you're going to kill me."
Draco was silently watching her before he slowly rose. He turned his back on her and started walking out the door. Right before he could leave her, he stopped.
"You're right," he said neutrally. "That is my mission. But you're still not done."
Strangely enough she wasn't scared to find out that she was going to die. Just the knowledge made her less agitated and brought her back from the bank of panic. He started walking again but this time Hermione couldn't just let him leave her, he'd done that too many times. She got up and half-ran after him grabbing his arm and turning her around.
"Not this time you don't!" she said and held onto his arm. He stared wonderingly at her. "You always leave! And this time you've just told me that you're going to kill me, so you can't leave!"
Draco just stared at her incredulously. Then – with no warning at all – he cast his arms around her shoulders and drew her into a kind a loving hug, that finally had Hermione reduced to tears. She cried against his toned chest while he caringly stroked her hair and back. When the tears ceased and ended in small sobs he still held her and she felt do desire to pull back. Funny world, right? You're hugging the man who's going to kill you, and still you're pleased that he's the one to do it.
"I'm not going to do it…" Hermione heard Draco's whisper in her ear. She lifted her head to look at him. He had tears in his eyes as well. "I won't do it."
"Why not?" Hermione asked. "I don't blame you Draco, I don't. With your father I understand why you have to do it."
"You called me Draco." He smiled through his tears.
"So what?" Hermione mimicked him. "I just gave you permission to kill me and you think about what name I call you."
"I told you Hermione, I'm not going to kill you."
"But you have to…"
Draco started laughing and hugged her close again. She almost felt strangled but the feeling wasn't bad. It was comforting and safe. Strange…
"I don't care if I have to I'm not going to."
"But Draco…"
"End of discussion!" he said with finality. How twisted was that, Hermione suddenly realised. She had just told someone to kill her. Someone she didn't even like. Yeah, Stockholm syndrome for sure.
"Why not?" she finally chirped.
"That's the second part of the riddle for you to solve."
Hermione's brain worked on over drive for a second before coming up with a utterly absurd idea that sent her into a giggling fit.
"What?" Draco asked.
"It's not because you're gay and in love with Harry is it?" Hermione laughed and felt Draco stiffen. Then he suddenly relaxed and started laughing as well.
"No that's definitely not it!" he laughed and gave her a squeeze.
Sorry it has been such a long time, but I really hope you're pleased with this chapter. I know I am. So please review and tell me your thoughts and feelings. A writer is only as good as her reviews, you know…
