Happy New Year everybody! Hope 2017 has been treating you well so far :)
For those of you looking forward to Hermione drawing Draco, hopefully this chapter is a good intro. I definitely plan on having more of this down the line, haha.
Enjoy!
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There was certainly no denying the way Hermione's hands were shaking as she gripped her supplies and settled down on the couch. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to open her mouth and ask him to model for her and yet there he was, sitting comfortably on the couch across from her and looking for all the world as though he was thoroughly enjoying her discomfort.
He has no right to look so smug right now she thought in exasperation. Of course, she had no right to be so flustered. After all, hadn't she sketched her friends on countless occasions over the years? Despite her mental reassurances her heart was still racing and Draco continued staring at her in amusement.
1…2…3…4…5…breathing in
6…7…8…9…10…breathing out
Nothing like a quick breathing exercise to remind oneself that they were being utterly ridiculous for having a crush on their former enemy.
Looking at the way the firelight was playing off his features, there was no real point in denying that her feelings had slipped beyond friendship. Having spent the past six years being best friends with two boys, she was a veteran when it came to the delicacy of the line. The line between platonic friendship and the point where teenage hormones would bulldoze through and take over. No one had been surprised, really, when she started dating Ron. She had told herself that it was just a natural by-product of spending so much time together, and it was hard not to develop feelings for someone when you were constantly saving each other's lives. There was even a short period of time in fourth year when she had had a crush on Harry.
This thing with Draco is no different, she admonished herself. They were spending a lot of time together, and despite their history the Slytherin Prince was intelligent, witty, and frustratingly handsome. No need to beat herself up, but also no need to act like a simpering school girl.
Steeling herself, she pushed back her shoulders and fixed him with the most unaffected, professional look she could muster.
"Right then, I'll just set an alarm for our next set of rounds so that we don't forget."
"And what part of my perfect physique will you be sketching this evening, Ms. Granger?" She just rolled her eyes at him, glad for the excuse. The house elves must be slipping a potion into the pumpkin juice at the Slytherin table for them all to have such gigantic egos.
"Well, I thought it would be good to start with the hands," she offered. She hadn't actually allowed herself to think about what part of him she wanted to sketch, that was a slippery slope, but hands were an area she needed work in.
"At your disposal," he drawled, holding up both hands in a universal sign of offering.
"I bet you say that to all the girls," she quipped in a teasing tone, blushing immediately when she registered her own words.
Deciding it was best to not give him a chance to respond, she quickly stood up and walked the few steps to join him on the couch, pointedly ignoring the oh-so-familiar smirk.
She grabbed a pillow and placed it in the space between them, gently removing Crookshanks when he tried to insert himself in the scene. "Could you set your left hand on the pillow, please?"
He did so without fuss, placing his hand palm down and spreading his long fingers to lie flat. Picking up her pencil, Hermione bit her lip lightly as she studied the hand before her. The way he had it positioned right now offered a very two-dimensional view, not that useful for the purposes of practicing her sketching.
"Mind if I re-position you a bit?" she asked, looking up and meeting his eyes. He nodded his approval easily so she reached out with as much confidence as she could muster to grab ahold of his hand.
His skin was slightly cool to the touch and pleasantly dry. As she moved to grasp his hand more firmly between her own she could feel the tell-tale calluses of an avid Quidditch player as well as a small scar along the outside of his palm. His skin wasn't as rough as she had been expecting, though she reminded herself that he probably had a whole arsenal of skin-care potions that he used as part of his daily grooming routine. His nails were perfectly maintained, short and clean. She pressed her lips together to hide her laugh at how much nicer his hands were than hers. She hoped he couldn't feel how her palms were beginning to sweat.
She attempted a few positions with his hand, finally deciding to have him lay it palm up and turned slightly to the side with his fingers naturally curled. Reluctantly letting go she once more grabbed her pencil and settled her paper on her lap.
"Can we start with this and then maybe I can try one with you holding something?"
"Easiest job in the world," he assured her as he settled back more comfortably against the couch, being sure not to jostle his hand.
She began her sketch, and the first ten minutes felt like an eternity to her. He seemed completely at ease as he watched her draw, but for her part the silence felt like a balloon filling up and threatening to burst. Finally, she decided there was no harm in starting up a conversation.
"The hands are a deceptively difficult part of the human body to capture correctly," she began, glancing at him quickly under her eyelashes. Seeing his look of mild interest, she decided to continue. "We use our hands for so many things, and they're almost always contorted either drastically or subtly. Five fingers are a lot of moving parts for any one body part."
"Plus everyone has such different hands," Draco contributed. "Over the summer I was studying the magic behind charming snitches to recognize the individual hand that grasps it during a game, definitely some complex spells involved."
She smiled at the image of him doing such intellectual research during his free time, even if it was sports-related.
"Oh! Maybe I could do a drawing with you holding a snitch sometime!" she enthused, liking the visual she had in her head.
"Yeah, you can draw me grabbing it right out from underneath Potter's nose when Slytherin dominates Gryffindor in a few months." She gave a small giggle, thinking back to the numerous times she had heard Harry fantasizing about the reverse scenario.
"You know," he continued, "we should really be talking about your peculiar little muggle habits. We did have a deal, didn't we?"
She frowned at him, pausing in her sketching for a moment to give him a wary glance. "Explain to me again why you are suddenly so interested in Muggles?"
"Can't a bloke want to expand his horizons a bit? Who knows, maybe I'll even go into Muggle-Wizard relations someday," he drawled.
"Don't you have the Malfoy empire to run? Must be a full-time job being such a superior member of society." Her sarcasm was not lost on him. He gave her a rueful smile before his face fell, turning serious.
"The war changed a lot," he stated, firmly but not aggressively. "I honestly have no idea what I am going to do after Hogwarts." His serious tone created a weighty air between them and Hermione uncharacteristically found herself at a loss for words. "Of course, I could always join Blaise in opening up an event planning business like he has his heart set on."
She laughed. The idea of Draco Malfoy opening up a company to plan parties was an absurdly ridiculous idea.
"Well, my parents are both dentists." With that they were off, the conversation flowing naturally into a discussion of some of the most common Muggle professions and how Hermione had always planned on being a veterinarian when she was younger, back before she had any idea about the existence of magic.
Their second patrol came and went without incidence, the hallways startling quiet for a Friday night but Hermione just figured that the students were wreaking havoc in their own common rooms for once.
They settled back down on the couch when they returned, her sketch held between them as Hermione showed him the results of her first drawing. She pointed out a few of the imperfections in the knuckles that she had struggled with but he just shrugged off her self-criticism.
"Granger, this is really good. Seriously."
She ducked her head to hide her smile, more than a little pleased to hear his praise. She tapped her wand against the paper, muttering a quick spell to prevent the charcoal from smudging.
"It's still relatively early, did you want to do another one tonight?" Hermione was surprised by how much she really did want to continue, and after all he was offering.
"Do you think—would it be weird if I, maybe, did one of you taking off your tie?" She couldn't make eye contact when she made her request, too afraid to see what his reaction might be or that he would see the raging blush spreading across her face.
Not hearing an answer, she finally chanced a look at him and immediately wished she hadn't. He was looking at her with an intense expression, unblinking. Finally, with a thick swallow, he nodded.
"Let me just pour a quick drink, first," he murmured, using his want to summon the familiar bottle of Firewhiskey.
Hermione frowned a bit at seeing the alcohol, it made an appearance more often that she would have liked. She had begun wondering if perhaps he had a drinking problem, but then figured it was none of her business. She allowed him to drain a quick glass before coming over to stand in front of him, angling his body in various positions on the couch to see which position created the lighting she was looking for. His Slytherin tie was impeccably done up and for a moment she hesitated, not sure how to go about arranging his hands.
"Could you, ah, act like you are going to take it off?" she spoke softly, a slight squeak to her voice. Without hesitating he began on the task. "Wait, go more slowly," she requested, reaching out a hand to stop him from going too quickly.
The long fingers of his right hand worked their way into the knot, loosening it slightly and pulling it away from his collar. His left hand, meanwhile, grabbed the middle of the tie and began pulling it down his chest and towards his stomach.
"Right there," she murmured, biting her lip once again as she moved in to reposition him. With delicate hands she nudged the fingers on his right hand to curl a bit more against the knot and pushed it back to rest snuggly against his chest. She moved his left hand minutely, making sure to elongate his fingers and adjust the tie so it had the appearance of being in motion. She was all too aware that both of her hands were holding the both of his and were practically pushed against his chest. Stupid hormones she muttered to herself once again, taking a slow step back to admire her work.
"Is that comfortable? Are you going to be able to hold that for a while?" she questioned him, seeing that the position would require his arms to stay raised.
"Always happy for an arm work out."
With that she got down to work, this time bringing over a chair so that she could sit in front of him and capture a dead-on angle. The longer she drew the more sensual the pose felt, particularly with the firelight flickering across his body. If he felt the building tension he was certainly better at hiding it, as she watched his chest breathing evenly in and out and causing his hands to move subtly.
Their conversation had reverted once more to Muggle culture, and Draco continued to appear baffled by how one could live without house elves, magical transportation, or spells. The only magical households that she had spent any extended time in were the Burrow and Grimmauld Place, and even so Hermione could tell that Draco's standards were well beyond the norm. The Weasleys certainly didn't have half the privileges the Malfoys did. Both families were pureblood, and it made her wonder if the two families hated each other because of their stance on blood purity or if it was more than that.
"Have you ever stopped to think that maybe, deep down, all of your family's blood purity prejudices are really just a superiority complex of being so wealthy?"
She had made her musing off-hand, but it was clear by the tightening of his fists that Draco had registered her words. Damn, she thought, he's going to mess up my sketch if he doesn't loosen his fingers.
"What do you mean?" he asked. He didn't seem to be outwardly angry with her, but still she knew it was best to approach cautiously.
"Just that—I don't know. You keep pointing out things like house elves and traveling around to visit your multiple homes and maintaining the grounds of your mansion…It just seems that at its heart, that has more to do with money than with magic. There are plenty of wealthy muggles with servants and giant homes, and plenty of Wizarding families without any of that stuff. It seems like most of the people that your family considers to be 'blood traitors' are much poorer than you are, I guess I'm just curious if there wasn't a different origin behind all the animosity."
He was silent after her short speech, making her a bit nervous. Had she overstepped the bounds of their new friendship?
"I didn't mean to insult you…" she offered, hesitating to say more without knowing what he was thinking.
Finally, he let out a long sigh.
"You know, I never really thought about that before." She looked up to see if he was going to say anything else, but it appeared that that would be the extent of his comments. Not knowing what else to do, she continued her drawing, glad when she felt the slight tension slowly fading away.
As the clock in their common room began it's twelve soft tolls to mark the transition from Friday to Saturday, she slowly set her pencil down. Scanning the page she gave a satisfied nod, quite pleased with how the sketch had turned out.
"Finally," Draco moaned, lowering his hands and stretching and shaking out his arms. She just rolled her eyes at him, moving over to sit next to him and share the results of her work.
"You should have said something, I could have put an immobilization spell on your arms," she scolded, not feeling all that bad for the snarky blonde.
He glanced down at the sketch, raising an eyebrow and letting out a low whistle. "Wow, that's kind of, well, hot." Hermione blushed. She had gone beyond his hands and included a rough sketch of his neck peaking out of his collar, his broad shoulders and lean torso encased within his white button up shirt. It was, she admitted internally, a rather provocative final product.
Not knowing what to say in response, she stood up once more and began gathering up her things in preparation of calling it a night.
"Thanks Draco, this was really helpful. And," a quick pause, "I had fun tonight."
Standing up as well he grabbed ahold of her hand and before she could say anything, he had raised it to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss right above her knuckles. His lips were startling soft and warm, with just a hint of moisture left behind.
"Me, too."
With that he was gone off up the stairs and into his room. Letting out a shuddering sigh, she grabbed Crookshanks and did the same.
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In the two weeks following the impromptu sketching, Hermione found herself settling into a comfortable routine with both the Malfoy and Zabini heirs. Now that she was no longer avoiding Draco they had easily fallen into a routine of studying and hanging out together when the boys weren't otherwise occupied with their own housemates. Blaise would occasionally join her and Neville at the Gryffindor table for meals, a habit that made Draco shudder in mock disgust any time he caught sight of them eating together.
There had been an underlying tension that was becoming more and more apparent between the two roommates, something that Hermione was trying hard to ignore. Neither of them had acknowledged it outright and Blaise, for once, had adopted a policy of keeping his mouth shut.
To her utter shock, last week a certain notorious eagle owl had accosted her during breakfast and dropped a beautifully wrapped package into her lap before taking up residence next to her oatmeal. The card was simple and written in an elegant script:
I thought you could use this for your morning runs.
P.S. Happy belated birthday
There was no name signed, but there wasn't a single person in the hall who wouldn't recognize the over-sized bird. Inside Hermione found a stunning dark green vest with a pattern of silver swirls intricately inlaid that subtly shifted shape before her eyes. It was made out of some performance fabric that she couldn't place and the tag revealed that it was purchased from one of the high-end Wizarding brands and was charmed with a combo-warming/ventilation spell particularly geared to athletes. She had never owned something so fancy in her life, and was aware of more than a few curious looks being thrown her way.
It was such a thoughtful gift, she decided that she wouldn't even scold him for buying her something in such blatantly Slytherin colors.
She was in fact wearing the vest as she sat out in front of the lake that Sunday afternoon, enjoying the fresh air while she finished an essay next to her new friends.
She and Blaise were both leaning up against a large Birch tree while Draco was sprawled out on the grass on his stomach, some well executed warming and moisture-repelling charms keeping the trio comfortable in mid-October. It was a familiar setup, and Hermione found it next to impossible to keep from remembering the times she had similarly studied with Harry and Ron. Of course, in that scenario she was constantly reviewing her friends work and being interrupted by complaints instead of the comfortably focused atmosphere she now enjoyed.
As if conjured by her thoughts, she recognized a familiar figure making its way back towards the castle across the grounds. It looked like Harry was coming from a visit at Hagrid's hut and a brief spark of nostalgia and longing tugged at her heart. Her former friend had refrained from being openly hostile towards her, but he also hadn't made much of an effort to interact with her either, so she was surprised to see him turn and begin heading her way.
It didn't take long for her companions to also take note of the approaching Gryffindor. Nobody said a word, but it was painfully obvious from the rising tension that they were each aware of the significance behind this moment.
Her heart started pounding as she watched him getting closer and closer. When he glanced up and met her eyes her breath caught in her throat. It felt as though her lungs would explode in the time it took him to finish crossing the distance to where she was still casually tucked against the tree.
"Hey." His voice was quiet and uncertain, and he awkwardly shoved his hands into his pockets while giving her a cautious glance.
It took her a moment to find her voice. "H-Harry, hi. How are you?" Looking around swiftly she saw that both both boys had given up any pretense of studying, instead staring fixedly and unwelcoming at the interloper. Draco smoothly got to his feet and moved to lean against the birch tree. "Potter," he acknowledged coldly.
It was clear that he was uncomfortable, and Hermione felt a small smile flit across her face mentally envisioning how strange the four of them must look in this instance.
"I was wondering if we might have a quick chat?" he asked in a rush, keeping his eyes trained on where she sat.
She had been hoping for months now that he would talk to her, that she could clear up the nonsense that had gotten so bizarrely out of hand. Of course, now she felt wholly unprepared and caught off guard. Stumbling clumsily to her feet she made to walk after him as he moved closer to the lake and away from prying ears.
For two people with so much history, the silence was notably uncomfortable as it stretched between them. They hadn't spoken directly since that first Prefects' meeting, and similar to that encounter Hermione found herself torn between resentment and longing for her former friend.
Before either of them could get a world out they were interrupted by Fang, who by this point had grown accustomed to keeping an eye out for Hermione when she was around the lake. Giving the gigantic dog a fond pat, she steeled her courage and turned to face Harry head on.
"What's up?" She tried to keep the emotion out of her voice, too afraid that if she said anything else her conflicted feelings would be too easily read.
He didn't say anything at first, simply looking over her face and taking in her appearance. When his eyes moved lower to acknowledge her vest she wrapped her arms around her torso and gave him a challenging look.
"That's an interesting piece of clothing you have there," he finally offered.
"It was a gift," she rushed to defend, not sure what else she should say. She was sure the entire school knew that Draco had given this to her, the rumors were likely way out of control by this point but she hadn't bothered to care.
"It suits you," he conceded with a small nod, turning away and staring out across the water. Not knowing what else to do, Hermione moved to stand by his side. He was the one who approached her, she would wait for him to say what he had come to say.
"Hermione, I—I'm worried about you," he breathed out, cocking his head to look at her. "Things just haven't been right with you since the war. First there was all that stuff with Ron and you using dark magic, now you've dropped some of your classes, and you're hanging out with them," at this he jerked his head back to where the two Slytherins were sitting, surreptitiously watching from 500 feet away.
"I mean, for Merlin's sake, it's Draco Malfoy! Do you have any idea what people have been saying when they saw his bloody giant owl bring you that vest?" By this point he had moved to stand in front of her, his eyes imploring as he raised his arms to gently grasp her shoulders.
"I think—I think maybe you need to talk to someone. The war was hard on all of us, there are some excellent mental healers who I'm sure could—" he broke off mid-sentence on seeing the anger rapidly taking over her face. He dropped his hands and took a step back.
It took her a moment to form any words, and to her humiliation her voice came out sounding less outraged and more heartbroken. "How dare you." It was barely louder than a whisper.
She couldn't believe that he was saying these things to her. That he would go for months without talking to her, abandoning her and taking Ron's side without even hearing her version of events, that when he finally did speak to her it would only be to warn her against the new friends she had made when practically the entire Gryffindor house had turned their backs. She swiped a hand angrily across her cheek, trying fruitlessly to hide the evidence of the tears gathering in her eyes.
"What right do you have to say those things to me?!" She could feel everything that she had been dying to tell him about for months right at the tip of her tongue, threatening to spill out. It took considerable effort for her to swallow down her words and still the shaking in her arms.
It was like he could sense all of her accusations bubbling beneath the surface.
"I know things have been strained between us. I know that I should have found a way to talk to you a long time ago, maybe I could have helped you sooner… It's no excuse, but Hermione I was so exhausted at the end of the war, I just wanted everything to be normal. I was being selfish, I know that, I just didn't feel like I had room in my head to take on more stress, and Ginny—" Here he stopped again, the look on her face telling him that this was obviously the wrong thing to say.
"Look, just please consider it. Talking to someone. For me."
"I think you should go now," she whispered brokenly, not trusting herself to say anything more and turning away.
After a minute she finally heard him moving back towards the school and allowed her tears to fall in earnest. Excuses aside, he had been a bad friend and it seemed to her that he still didn't realize the full extent of how he, not to mention Ron, had treated her. Until he was ready to make a full acknowledgment of the situation, she resolved, she wouldn't bother wasting her time on him.
Turning her head she could make out through her blurry eyes one pale and one dark shape moving towards her.
"Granger," Draco sounded unsure as he reached out a hand to lay against her arm.
Sniffling, she took a small step back and out of his reach. "I just need to be alone right now. Please."
With a nod both boys headed back, gathering up their books and making for the front of the castle. Hermione sunk down to the gravel, Fang coming to sit next to her as she stared out at the turbulent water. It was several hours before she finally made her way back inside
