The Melting Point of Steel

"When you throw dirt, you lose ground." -Texan Proverb

Hermione's eyes opened. Her body ached from the unfamiliar mattress that she took refuge on last night.

She simultaneously stretched and groaned.

In the weak light of the approaching dawn, Hermione burrowed deeper into her parents' comforter in an attempt to escape the sweep of embarrassment. Her body flushed red; for once, her remarkable memory was a curse as it played last evening out in vivid detail.

The unexpected challenge from Malfoy… the resultant discussion and confusing moment of contact…

The flush covering her body burned red for an entirely different reason.

Hermione threw the blankets from her body and inhaled deeply. The sun slanted through the opening in the curtains and hit her bare feet. All of her belongings were secured in her room where a certain Slytherin git was likely still sleeping.

An impatient sigh escaped Hermione's lips. When she had formulated the plan to catch Malfoy she thought she had anticipated all the risks. Her memory replayed the moments from last night and her fingers tingled in response.

Apparently, she forgot one risk- some unresolved, adolescent feelings.

Hermione's feet hit the floor as she stretched the nighttime aches from her body. As much as she wanted to meet Malfoy on equal ground, she couldn't gather the courage to enter her room for a change of clothes.

As if it would matter. He finds me beneath him anyway.

She involuntarily blushed at her choice of words. The urge to crawl back in her parents' bed and overanalyze those memories on repeat in her head was strong… very strong. Hermione sighed resignedly, knowing that such a scenario was impossible.

It's time to greet Malfoy and the day.

Hermione strode to the door and opened it quietly. Tip-toeing to her bedroom, she laid a gentle hand and ear on the door and listened.

Only silence.

She made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen. As early as it was to be starting breakfast, Hermione concluded that if she hoped to escape the tumultuous tenure of her thoughts then her mind needed to be occupied elsewhere.

Breakfast was as good a place as any to start.

She banged the pot overloud on the cooktop determined to keep her inquisitive hands to herself.

oOo

It was another lonely morning for the pale-haired hostage. When Granger didn't return after her dramatic exit, Draco contemplated getting a comfortable night's rest in Granger's bed but one whiff of those citrusy sheets had him bolting back to his meager pallet. He had woke to find the bedroom still empty but clearly not the house based on the banging that echoed up the stairwell. Draco fisted both hands and dug them into his eyes.

A headache was coming up fast.

While annoyance mixed with mortification in his chest like a volatile potion, Draco willed his mind back on the task at hand. It could be the death of him if he continued to get distracted… no matter how diverting the distraction.

Fuck no. Focus you ass.

He stretched the last of the sleep from his tall frame, then his eyes fell on the journal still opened on Granger's desk. Draco full-on grinned.

Ever the trusting Gryffindor.

He peeked at the door and strained his ears for confirmation that she was still downstairs. When the sound of dissonant racket reached his ears, Draco chuckled and positioned his body so that his back wasn't fully turned to the door; he learned his lesson last time.

That damnable entry met his eyes while a frustrated growl vibrated in his throat. Draco had thought his cultivated demeanor flowed more naturally the older he became. Like breathing, he figured it to be effortless by now. Alas, nothing was perfect as the evidence was inked in front of him. This shitty task had him discovering all the little fissures in his self-made shield and alarmingly, the light was getting in.

One could be tempted to bask in it, indefinitely.

Draco flipped the journal pages harshly, the force of it almost causing a rip. He started at the beginning and did a quick flip through the entries. Much of what he glimpsed prior to 4th year was rather dull; no mention of Harry, the Dark Lord, or even typical teenage twitterings about love interests.

Not even rants about rivals.

The cold sweep of disappointment chased across Draco's skin like a precursor to a sickness. He rubbed his arms idly while his mind calculated that too much time had passed since his last report. He was going to have to outwit Granger and get hold of his wand.

Draco's eyes wandered back to the journal. Why stop the outwitting there? The journal's been helpful...why not extend its helpfulness past my time in Granger's proximity?

More than his mind twitched at the thought. He figured he could work a charm on the journal so it would share the contents on another blank surface unsuspectingly.

For once, he was grateful for his father's militant instruction in wandwork during his early years. Yet again, he was in need of his wand. Desperate for it, actually.

Gray eyes flashed silver with awareness; the room was empty save for him which left the bed free for searching. Draco strode over and lifted the mattress without ceremony. He snorted with derision to find the wands predictably tucked between mattress and frame.

Gods, Granger. Do you know who you're dealing with?

He snatched his wand, relishing the feel of magic alighting in his blood as if revived from its short-ish nap. A shaky breath of relief passed through his lips and his wand arm twitched with enthusiasm at the feel of regaining a symbolic appendage.

Striding back to the journal after a cursory glance at the door, Draco itched to put all that pent-up magic to bloody fucking use.

He retreated into his mind and meditated on the spell required and then exhaled as he incanted, "Gemino." With a quick flick of his wand, the duplicate journal shimmered out of thin air, worn leather stuffed with all of Granger's private ponderings.

Draco closed his eyes and concentrated this time on a spell that he wasn't very confident with.

He sure hoped he didn't fuck this up.

His forearm was perpendicular to the original journal when he opened his eyes and carefully dipped his wand to make contact. The gray irises darkened from hesitation the longer he stared so after clearing his throat, Draco intoned, "Duplicati descriptus." At the last moment, his arm turned so his forearm ran parallel to the journal.

Silver smoke curled up in delicate spirals from the book's surface with Draco's wand hovering just above to absorb the wayward wisps.

When complete he moved his hand to the copy, the bare length of his forearm still parallel to the twin journal. "Revelio absconditum," Draco commanded while he swiftly turned his arm perpendicular with the book.

His heart skipped a beat as smoke leeched from the wand, the nebulous mist staining the book with its inexorable caress.

The success of the spell complete swelled in Draco's chest. He hadn't felt so in control since before the task began. Giddy like the first time he caught the trio out of bed after curfew, the now older and wiser Slytherin stowed the book away in his small corner, curious to pour over its contents in greater detail.

It had to have more than just a few words on me. Does being a Malfoy mean nothing to her?

The smell of hot, delicious breakfast assaulted his nostrils and pulled him from his reverie.

Time to greet Granger and the day. He lifted the mattress to place his wand back but was diverted by a folded, worn piece of parchment tucked beneath Granger's wand. Malfoy replaced his but removed the parchment, curiosity taking over for the hunger previously rolling his stomach.

Opening the yellowing edges, he noted it looked to be a letter. Did this girl do anything but write or read? Draco sighed heavily but then scrunched his eyes, noticing that the handwriting was unfamiliar.

Dear Herm-oh-ninny,

I am with pleasure that we have kept in touch this year. The stress of fame is not something many people know how to handle. You, though, have experience, yes? Mr. Potter as a friend and now with graciousness, you extend that kindness to me. Please, Herm-oh-ninny, I would ask that you come to visit this summer. Bring your parents, of course, and have holiday in Bulgaria. It is important to me that we reignite our friendship, a conversation I would like to have with your father as well.

Awaiting your response I am always, a loyal friend,

Viktor Krum

The parchment fluttered from Draco's now-sweaty hands and onto the bed. Those last two words seemed to block out years of carefully-learned discipline; for he knew with deadly certainty that if it suited his current purpose, he would incendio every fucking piece of paper in her room.

Barring that journal.

Draco vacillated between gut-numbing jealousy that had his mind seizing under the pressure of not conjuring detailed visions of Krum and Granger together, and a healthy dose of skepticism that she had ties in Bulgaria, of all places. Draco pressed his stomach as if he could eject the envy by sheer force. Before the emotion could run rampant, he retrieved the letter and snuck it back to its original hiding place, mulling over the potential significance of Granger's Bulgarian buffoon.

Seriously though, how close are they? He can't even spell her name right; that alone makes him not worth her time. No matter that he was my favorite Quidditch player not two years ago.

Nevertheless, her connection to Bulgaria was exactly the kind of information he was there to seek out… and truth or dare left opportunity for him to fulfill both brands of curiosity.

Malfoy took a step toward the door intending on finally making his way to breakfast but was disgusted when he felt his clothes stick to his sweat-slick skin. Dismissing the notion of proper etiquette, he stalked directly to the upstairs bathroom and started the shower. He stripped, stepped inside, and released a groan of pleasure as water droplets traced paths of cleanliness down his form.

Draco deliberately inhaled with a slow pull through pursed lips. On the exhale, he infused steel into his fingertips, then let the feeling spread along his arms, torso, legs and then back up to the torso for extra fortification.

Today he was steel. Cold and inflexible. A fucking Malfoy.

Opening eyes he didn't realized fell closed, Malfoy scanned the shower enclosure for some type of soap. He lifted a bar nestled in a built-in alcove but almost dropped it when he inhaled that familiar scent- summertime citrus wrapped in vanilla. Quickly replacing it, Draco grabbed the second nondescript soap and was grateful to find it unscented.

He finished the shower soon after and slipped on his last clean shirt, the long sleeve he stripped off the day Granger caught him. It was that or raid the muggle father's closet.

Draco rather be naked.

He strode down the steps toward the kitchen, unyielding in his purpose. A scene almost identical to yesterday morning was playing out in the kitchen with one very key difference- Granger had retreated to her subdued, slumped form. She was nursing a cup of coffee while the breakfast stayed warm under covered dishes.

Her eyes lifted when he entered the room. With a tentative clearing of her throat, she gestured to the spread. "It's a token of peace. I fear I overstepped my bounds yesterday even though it's, well, you." A fortifying inhale cut off her explanation then, "Especially because it's you."

Draco's brows shot up in mild bemusement. He put his hands in his pockets and gripped the fabric while he drawled, "Care to tell me what that means?"

Granger's reserve caved in and she was instantly blocked by her nest of chestnut curls. A full minute of silence passed and then another; Draco tugged the loose threads until they started to unravel.

Better that than his mind.

Granger flipped her hair over her shoulders and gestured to the seat opposite her as if a chasm of unmentionables hadn't just opened up between me.

She smiled tentatively although her gestures became more punctuated. "Malfoy, why don't you sit and we could start breakfast? It's my turn at Truth or Dare as well."

Draco continued to stand, asserting control.

Granger defied it by huffing her impatience and striding over to him. Without an ounce of hesitation, she wrapped her hand around his forearm and tugged. It was an exact echo of yesterday and even with the extra layer of clothing separating them, Draco's skin hummed with awareness.

Briskly, Granger deposited him in the chair opposite hers then uncovered the dishes. She fixed his coffee unprompted. He felt like pouring it all over her head.

Draco reined in the adolescent impulse and sipped begrudgingly. Only a few bites into the lukewarm porridge and rashers, Granger shattered the silence with her ill-placed curiosity.

"Truth, Malfoy- why did you help me at the Yule Ball that time?" Granger continued to spoon dainty bites of porridge into her mouth while Draco nearly choked.

He cleared his throat only to realize the lump that was blocking it was not food; it was dread. Granger put her spoon down as their eyes locked across the intimate space. He narrowed his eyes and blinked slowly at her, preoccupied over if he could decipher the motivation behind this question.

Anything to procrastinate answering the bloody thing.

She folded her hands in front of her, stretching her arms so that only a few centimeters stood between her fingers and his. He drummed the table idly, absurdly hopeful that she would press her luck.

Draco watched Granger's eyes fight to dramatize detachment but the curiosity in those chocolate brown irises was too strong. Yet, it was the startling discovery of eagerness that had Draco's hands freezing mid-tap.

Could she really want the real explanation to that story?

Granger prodded him with a forefinger. Eyebrows slightly cocked she questioned, "Are you going to answer or forfeit?"

Draco scowled. He shoved back at her entwined fingers for causing little currents of energy to sizzle along his nerves.

Crossing his arms despite the look of petulance it afforded him, Draco leaned in and crowded the already full table with his broadened shoulders.

"Your date," he punctuated this with a brief, dubious widening of his eyes, "had abandoned you. Of course I was going to call off Crabbe and Goyle." He took a bite of rasher and sipped his coffee, an air of intensity enveloping his precisely controlled frame. "Speaking of" Draco continued with forced nonchalance, "I'd like to talk about that date of yours."

Granger pulled back to recline in her chair, presumably to put space between the two of them. The damnable witch ignored his statement as she was intent to wring Draco dry of every last, dirty detail from that day.

"Viktor didn't abandon me, Malfoy. He had stepped away for drinks as a gentleman would do."

Granger stared while Draco stewed over the fact that she deliberately used Krum's first name.

"Besides" she continued, unaware of his inner angst, "it was the way you called them off. You complimented me."

"I actually insulted them." He seized the unconscious tapping that had started in his left leg, impatient for Granger to be satisfied and drop the subject.

Weasley would sooner cease eating.

Granger inhaled for round two. "Well aren't you a wizard of words. To think the glib Draco Malfoy could simultaneously insult and compliment." She rolled her eyes before returning to a more serious mood.

Granger's position shifted as if she were approaching an erumpent and the idea that she anticipated an explosion immediately raised Malfoy's hackles.

"Just spit it out, Granger, so this bloody round can be over. I have my own questions" he bit out.

Granger spoke softly, "I don't think it was coincidence that I caught you looking at the entry about Yule Ball."

The slightest tick indented his cheek. He mimicked her tone, "What do you think it was, then?"

Discreetly, she dropped her eyes to an unknown point on the table. "I think you saw your name in your long-time rival's journal and couldn't help but be intrigued."

Draco put down his breakfast things with slow, rigid movements then divulged, "I think the label as long-time rival could be debated." He immediately swept out of the chair to stand in front of the sink window, missing the look of confusion to ripple across Granger's face.

"I believe it's my turn now," he stated, the finality of his tone lying to rest all that came before. Granger worried her bottom lip between her teeth but granted him a small nod.

He allowed his eyes a brief pause on that lip before focusing on the unfinished breakfast. "Truth, Granger- do you keep in contact with your illustrious past date, Viktor Krum?"

Incredulous laughter filled the room. Granger swiped at a tear of amusement before responding, "That was a long time ago."

She smiled at him, a bit sadly, while she pulled at the cuff of her pajama sleeve. Refusing the dim light glowing down that dark and dangerous memory lane, Draco turned his head slightly so that he wouldn't get the full impact of her inquiring eyes.

"Are you going to answer my question?" Draco pressed.

"I did answer you," Granger said lightly although her stare was hard and searching as it bore into the profile of his face. "Viktor and I stayed in touch after he left Hogwarts at the end of the tournament. He wanted to keep up our friendship."

A blush crept up her neck and suffused her cheeks with heat.

Similarly, Draco felt heat turn his neck hot, like he ate too many Pepper Imps, but what he truly was digesting were Granger's half-hearted admissions.

Draco's stomach rolled with embarrassment, a feeling he was coming to know too well. He pressured Granger anyway, desperate for viable information that wouldn't make this 'truth' a total waste.

"I doubt it was just a friendship, Granger. You two were quite cozy in your corner of the library."

She frowned. "It was just a friendship in the end. Where are you going with this?"

Draco turned the full force of his condescending stare on her while he internally fought the green-eyed monster. "Have a hard time holding onto the boys? I imagine it's that mouth of yours." A smirk twitched at the corner of his lips as predictable, little Granger bubbled over like a potion gone wrong.

She vaulted right out of her seat yelling, "Who do you think you are? It's none of your business who I date!"

Draco scoffed, not even affording her a glance. "It became my business when they abandoned you to your own reckless devices."

He strode to the table to take a sip of water, the liquid proving mildly soothing to his frayed nerves. At this close distance, it became much harder to remain stoic when the full force of Granger's disapproving gaze latched to his own. It oddly felt like he was being reprimanded by his mother; yet, the idea of Granger wielding that kind of control over him only reignited his ire. He pushed up his sleeves haphazardly in an attempt to cool off.

The kitchen had gone eerily quiet with only Granger's heaving breaths as evidence of their argument. Her wand hand flexed sporadically while the magic she was longing to release sparked on the ends of her hair. And her face… the last time Draco saw her with that face was in 3rd year right before she punched him.

I'm bigger now and she's without a wand. There's no way she can hurt me.

"And is it Lord Voldemort's business as well? What are you, his errand boy?" she hissed.

He hated it when she proved him wrong. It made Draco see red.

With a swipe of his arm, the breakfast clattered onto the tile kitchen floor. Granger had dropped back in her seat in shock so Draco shoved the table away to loom over her, positively pulsing with anger.

'You don't know who the fuck I am," Draco spat.

"Neither do you," she bravely eked out as she trembled from the force of keeping her body still. Draco turned uncontrollable with rage.

"You stupid bitch, can't you let it go? This is a game we're playing. It doesn't mean anything." His breath tumbled out of him urged on by the accelerated rate of his heartbeat.

And still she sat. Slouched and submissive. Utterly un-Granger-like. And still he refused to back down.

Malfoy crouched on his knees resolved to see her eyes, even if it meant he had to touch her. She suddenly stilled when he came into close proximity. The air had turned hot, heavy with all the hostility weighing it down; he could just make out the sheen of sweat on her half-concealed cheeks.

Draco tempered the volume of his voice, instead infusing it with icy malice. "This has all been a joke for me, you know." He said this softly, like passing a secret. "Did you know that?"

Granger still hadn't moved as if she was turned to ice by the cold words falling from Malfoy's mouth. He planted his right hand on her thigh and used the left to tilt her chin up; their eyes clashed in the way a wave falls down upon the shore. Unruly gray bearing down on abiding bronze.

The dark mark was angled so that it leered sickly up at them, a stark reminder to both of who Draco Malfoy was.

With their eyes fastened, Draco repeated the question. "Did you know that it was a joke?" The silence enveloped them as their eyes waged battle. Neither wavered.

It seemed ice nor fire would force a verbal submission from Granger. So, Draco returned to fire because not much was as satisfying as all-consuming heat in your veins even if it could melt steel.

"Fucking answer me!"

His right hand squeezed her thigh a touch harshly, only then exposing the intimate position they were in. Draco's mouth started to water from the feel of forbiddeness under his fingertips but before he could do anything foolish, Granger snapped.

"No! I don't need to fucking answer you just because you're being an ass!" Malfoy reeled back as if he were slapped. He never heard Granger curse before and the shock of it sent him right onto his bottom.

Bloody wonderful. And I'm supposed to be the one in control.

Draco scrambled to his feet and hastily wiped rasher bits off his black trousers and shirt, striving for that air of superiority he possessed at the start of this verbal battle. He willed the steel to return to his back, to his head and heart but Granger beat him to the punch. She was bloody good at doing that, despite his years of practice.

She rose from the chair, simultaneously shedding the trepidation that had her previously glued to the seat. Draco's jaw fell slack at the sight of her, undignified in her matching pajama set. She was a dozen shades of amber from her bed head to her bare feet and for a breath, just a half second, he could acknowledge that Granger was indeed attractive.

Well, until she opened her mouth.

"Why don't you try to be nice for once?" she retorted, delicately sniffing the air. Granger had crossed her arms and glared him down. "Let's try it, shall we? I dare you to compliment me."

The answer rolled automatically off Malfoy's tongue without any real thought required. "You're intelligent," he said permissively, not even bothering to make eye contact with the bossy witch. Malfoy was so concerned keeping his tone neutral and his tall frame nonchalant that over a minute of silence had built steam between them before he turned his eyes back to her.

The look that met his was kaleidoscopic; a swirling, sifting mess that shimmered from disappointment to frustration to sadness to another half dozen emotions Draco felt overwhelmed by. He never let his own feelings play at the surface like she did, as if her person thrived on the tidal wave of emotion that rose behind her fierce, caramel-colored eyes.

Her Gryffindor is showing. Only they would be foolish enough to reveal all that vulnerability.

Malfoy was about to say something before that tidal wave drowned him but she broke the silence, the words a knife cutting right to the bone.

"That's all everyone sees… my intelligence. Like I have nothing making up my person but my big brain." Granger's eyes crystallized as a single feeling coalesced to the forefront. The resentment colored her voice dark, bitter, strong. "All I'm asking is that one bloody person would be able to use their brain and point out something else that is positive about me."

She deflated like a popped balloon and as all the air rushed out of her, tears tumbled soon after.

The buzz of irritation was heating up the back of Draco's neck, likely turning the alabaster skin an unflattering red. He couldn't believe he had somehow been maneuvered into this humiliating position of having to compliment Granger.

Ripples of resentment started to spread from Draco's chest. He wasn't sure what the hell Krum was doing when he and Granger were together but the fact that enemies were depended upon for flattery meant Krum failed abysmally.

Truly, it was madness. This mudblood pain-in-his-arse turned her nose down on him like he was an insignificant flobberworm while Krum got rosy tints and tenderness.

Draco reached up and pressed at the base of his skull. It was not time for nagging thought spirals; he needed to straighten out and perform the bloody dare. It's for the cause, he chanted in his head while nimbly running through his wealth of knowledge on Granger in order to pick a suitable compliment. There had to be a safe, harmless one.

Fuck. I need to just be superficial and get on with it.

Draco cleared his throat to draw her attention. The tears continued to fall and were starting to speckle her shirt.

"Granger," Draco tried, internally cringing at the softness in his tone. Her attention caught, Granger raised her eyes to him- her "long-time" enemy- with something akin to hope lighting those honey irises.

The steel inside him disintegrated.

"You're too strong to be giving a damn what other people think about you," he grumbled roughly. Her eyes widened. The tears behind them stalled. Yet now that Draco had started, he couldn't stop the words from flowing; they were toffee on the tip of his tongue.

"For being the brightest witch of our age, you can act incredibly thick-headed sometimes." He exhaled, irritated. "The only person you got to prove anything to is yourself and after 5 bloody years of classes with you, I think you've done so. Then some."

In response, Granger started to sob. She collapsed back into the chair, crying noisily into an already soaked pajama top. Her eyes fell closed which left Draco at a complete loss as to what was going on. Merlin's beard. It's like these girls don't even know what they want.

Draco rubbed his temples, vexed. Her crying was drilling into his head and he could feel the revival of a brutal headache. Apparently, whatever ground he hoped to recover today was scattered with the remains of breakfast on the kitchen tile.

He shuddered as the initial plan rearranged in his mind. The acquiescence tasted sour in his mouth but the sooner he pushed through, the sooner he could go back to retrieving pertinent information.

And get some food in his bloody stomach.

Dragging the rubbish bin over, Draco started to clean up the mess that he made. He grumbled while doing so, not the least bit amused that this was perhaps the first mess in his life that he personally cleaned up. In front of a muggleborn, no less.

A full blown scowl twisted Draco's face. With the mess nearly cleared, he went to the sink and washed his hands free of sticky porridge, crunchy rasher bits, and cooled coffee.

He's been ending up dirty far too much for his liking.

The kitchen looked a touch better except for the convincing resemblance to Moaning Myrtle that seemed completely oblivious of his chivalrous act.

Draco sighed. He didn't understand how this wisp of a girl, a bookish brat, could so thoroughly dismantle his best laid plans. Utter rot, he berated himself for being driven by that volatile mix of jealousy and intrigue in the first place.

Krum was at some distant spot in Bulgaria. Granger was not some covert connection between the two. She was just complicated.

He hovered his hand awkwardly over her shaking shoulders and said, "All right Her… uh, Granger. I'll stop being a git. At least for today." A half laugh- half sob bubbled up from the crying, causing an unseen smile to ghost across Draco's lips. His stomach grumbled in protest to the tenuous truce that was being spun.

It took a bit of searching but soon he was seated in a chair back to back with Granger, green apples in their hands with salvaged coffee in the others.