Chapter Nine

In The Desert Sun

"Love is the difficult realization that something other than oneself is real."
- Iris Murdoch, British novelist (1919 - 1999)

Draco Malfoy was very, very stressed.

He didn't know what this was. He didn't understand what it meant when Granger showed up at random hours of the day just to visit him. He couldn't fathom the meaning of her words, couldn't understand why she always stayed as long as she did, didn't know what she was feeling, what he was feeling. All he knew was that Granger smelled like raspberries and pine and that the playground was a very nice place to think and talk.

She was here now, at Flourish and Blotts. Draco had to crane his neck to see the top of her head just behind the row of bookshelves. He didn't know why, but he liked knowing that she was there. It had been about a month since Draco had first stopped to talk to her at the playground, and September was approaching fast, and with all the back to school students swarming the store looking for textbooks and quills and half-priced ink bottles, Draco was glad someone was there to be his staple, that someone was there to keep him sane.

He liked her.

Draco told himself it wasn't his fault that he did—it was inevitable, for the two spent hours together almost each and every night; it was perfectly understandable for Draco to have a soft spot for the bushy-haired Gryffindor he no longer hated.

He didn't know why, but he liked how he almost never saw her without a book in her hands. He liked her attitude, the way she'd roll her eyes at him.

It was strange, not hating Granger.

"What are you staring at, Malfoy?" He was snapped from his thoughts as he looked down and saw that Granger had steadily made her way across the bookstore and was now standing right in front of him. His thoughts had been so preoccupied, he hadn't even noticed. She was giving him a light, curious smile.

"Nothing," said Draco. He smiled back, and he wrongly handed a second-year Most Potente Potions instead of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two. "Oops…" He grabbed the book out of the scared-looking girl's hands and handed her the correct one instead. Hermione snickered, not unkindly.

"Am I making you nervous?" she asked playfully, and Draco grimaced and shook his head slowly. Then his face broke out into a rare smile and he shrugged.

"I don't know Granger; you're here so often, yet strangely I still find myself distracted by you."

Hermione grinned. "I guess I should feel flattered."

"Don't be. I think it's just that giant mess of hair on your head; it catches the eye."

Together, the two of them made their way over to the register, where Mart was struggling to ring up everyone's orders efficiently. Draco impatiently waved him away and took over. He nearly buckled under the weight of a stack of textbooks four feet high as a flustered-looking witch handed it to him. Hermione laughed loudly, and the witch frowned in her direction.

"Granger, you're going to get me fired, you know that?" Draco commented wryly, watching the bushy-haired Gryffindor lean against the counter. She was looking at the half-priced books on the shelf next to her.

"Maybe that's my general plan," said Hermione casually. She raised her eyebrows casually towards the witch as she handed her daughter the bulky Flourish and Blotts bag holding all her schoolbooks.

Draco snickered and gave her a skeptical look. "Now, why would you ever want to get me fired?"

"Because you're the most annoying, overweening prick I've ever met, of course," she informed him lightly, flipping open to the seventh chapter of Dueling Fundamentals: Be Your Own Second! But Draco knew she was half-joking.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Now, now, Granger, do you really mean that?"

She didn't hesitate. "Of course."

"And what would I have to do to convince you otherwise?" he asked.

"I don't know, not be a prick?"

He couldn't help himself, really. He didn't want to cup her cheek in his hand and lift her eyes from the book to his own. He didn't want to flash her his trademark smirk.

And he certainly didn't want to lean in and press his lips against hers, not at all. But yet he found himself, to his horror, doing exactly that.

He didn't want to kiss Granger; he didn't want to like it; he didn't want it to dawn on him that this kiss was much different from Pansy's kisses back at Hogwarts…he didn't want to admit that this kiss, somehow, felt a lot more real. Stunningly real…uncomfortably real.

Draco couldn't tell how long it lasted, but he knew that he felt he had drawn away too soon. He stood upright again and cleared his throat awkwardly.

Hermione didn't react beyond steadily reaching her fingers up to touch her lips, almost as if to check and see that they were still there. Then she calmly shut the book, placing it back in its proper place. With no hint of any readable emotion on her face, she said, "Alright, now you're the most annoying, overweening prick I've ever met. Apparently the last nine years were just a warm-up act."

But she stayed with him for the remainder of his shift, sometimes walking around the bookstore examining interesting-looking books, other times just leaning against the counter watching Draco while he worked, but never quite looking him in the eye. Draco didn't mind, and though he couldn't fully understand it, he felt somewhere in his gut that maybe, just perhaps, he was no longer quite as alone.

"Good evening, Granger."

She gave him a withering look. "Hi," she said shortly.

"I thought I'd find you here early," said Draco. It was only 11:17 PM, yet they were both at the playground, nearly five hours premature.

Hermione said nothing in response to him.

"I know you're not mad at me," said Draco, walking over to her and sitting next to her on the swings. "Otherwise you wouldn't have stayed."

Hermione brushed her fingers against her lips once more and said, "I guess not. I was just confused."

Instead of responding, he leaned in again, seemingly in slow motion, and he pressed his lips to hers for the second time that day. Hermione kissed him back briefly before playfully shoving him away.

Had he not known better, Draco would have thought that the scowl on her face was a serious one. "Is this going to become a regular thing with you?" joked Hermione, looking stern. But he could tell that behind the teasing was a serious question.

Draco laughed softly, but he soon fell silent and shrugged, not knowing whether to continue laughing with her or to start actually figuring out what was going on. This was all so new. He didn't hate Granger, he even liked her a little… But that didn't explain why he'd kissed her…did it? He'd just done it.

It had been a very, very long time since Draco had been impulsive.

At his silence, Hermione gave him a worried look. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he muttered.

"Don't be thick," she chastised, smacking him gently on the shoulder. "We talk about nearly everything that bothers us. Just tell me what's on your mind."

"That's just it," said Draco. "I don't know."

Hermione frowned.

"I just…I don't understand what this is, Granger. I don't understand what's happening." His voice was an octave higher; he sounded panicked, almost. He wouldn't even meet her eyes.

She raised her eyebrow. "Well, Malfoy, maybe you aren't meant to understand it."

Hermione got up from the swing set and walked over to him again so that she was in front of him, slipping her hand in his. His fingers tightened around hers instinctively, and she smiled. "Just let yourself enjoy life's surprises," said Hermione.

When she kissed him this time, he felt the rush of the world echo thunderously in his ears.

She broke away, and Draco found himself grasping both her arms with his hands. Embarrassed, he let go quickly. Hermione smiled knowingly and cocked her head at him thoughtfully. Then, looking as though she'd suddenly remembered something, she dug into her purse and pulled out a stack of papers. Draco recognized it as the Daily Prophet.

"What's that?" he asked anyway.

"You made fun of Ron the other day," Hermione reminded him gleefully, waving the newspaper in the air. "You said that finding peace while working in Law Enforcement was like finding a Galleon in his pocket."

Draco remembered and nodded his head. "Yeah, so?"

Instead of responding, Hermione tossed the Daily Prophet's Quidditch section over to Draco, and he caught the rolled-up newspaper without a second thought. Sure enough, there he was—Weasley, decked out in his orange and white Chudley Cannons uniform, zooming across the page, his fist raised triumphantly in the air. As Draco's eyes skimmed the article, he felt his heart sinking.

…Ronald Weasley, 19, recently signed his second contract as both Captain and Keeper of the once seemingly hopeless team, the Chudley Cannons…

…being offered a handsome sum of 550 Galleons a month as well as a 100 Galleon bonus for each win, following his spectacular performance during these past two years…

Hermione grinned at his dumbfounded expression. "Guess Galleons are in considerable abundance there, aren't they?" she mused playfully, crossing her arms over her chest. "Now if only peace was as easy to find."

Draco could not peel his eyes from the article. He read it over and over again, not sure he believed it. Weasley was actually making a real living. Five hundred and fifty Galleons a month was nothing to sneeze at. Draco made three hundred a month working at Flourish and Blotts…not that he needed the gold, of course, but still, it felt strange knowing that Weasley's career was running circles around Draco's.

"Is something wrong?" asked Hermione sweetly.

Draco only shook his head and let out a low whistle. "Damn." He gave Hermione a sideways glace. "You know, I swore the same day Weasley got rich I'd ask out a Mudblood."

It was true. Though it hadn't been a real promise, Draco had jokingly made the comment to Blaise in sixth year after Blaise had mentioned that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was doing extremely well and that maybe this generation of Weasley's had some ambition after all. Draco had confidently told Blaise that while Fred and George may have talent, Ron Weasley would remain poor forever…and so he'd jokingly sworn a contract to his fellow Slytherin. He'd completely forgotten about it until now, but as he brought it up to Granger, he grinned.

She looked amused at his confession. "I don't see any Mudbloods around here, Malfoy."

"No, you're right. But there's the next best thing, which is a Muggle-born…"

Hermione didn't say anything, merely looked at him expectantly. He smirked back at her, handed her the newspaper, and paused for dramatic effect.

After a few blank, long seconds, Hermione asked, "Well, Malfoy, aren't you going to ask me out?"

Draco pretended to ponder her suggestion. She continued to look at him with eyes veiled with confusion. She moved a fraction of an inch closer to him. Draco leaned in too, only slightly, as if he were leaning in to kiss her, but just as she began reciprocating his actions, he drew back sharply.

"You know what, Granger," he answered after much deliberation. "No, I don't think I will."

He actually grinned at the look of shock on her face. Draco began walking backwards and said, "Goodnight, Hermione." He turned around again and sped up towards the forest.

"Bloody hell, Draco, you're in love with Granger."

The door to Flourish and Blotts had just burst open with a loud noise, only to reveal Theodore Nott standing impressively in the doorway, his hands resting on the doorframe. The store had only opened shop seven minutes ago, though Draco had been there much longer, and golden sunlight was streaming through the translucent shades.

"I…er, what?" replied Draco lamely.

"Granger," repeated Theo. "Don't be a prat, now, I saw you two together on the playground last night. I was going out to buy some more of those Muggle cigarettes…can't seem to stop myself…. You two were right by Nott Mansion, don't tell me you didn't think I'd ever find out."

The gleam in Theo's eyes was almost too much to handle.

"You kissed her, Draco."

Play it cool. "So?"

He actually licked his lips and rubbed his palms together, his eyes wild. "All this time," he said, shaking his head, "it was Granger."

"I am not in love with her," insisted Draco, rolling his eyes and refocusing his gaze on the bookshelves in front of him. He had already finished shelving the books meant for those particular shelves though, and because Theo was now blocking his only way out, he could only hope to Merlin that Theo was merciful and would drop the subject.

No such luck. Theo was like a little boy on Christmas day. "You are in love with her," he nearly cackled. "You are, you are, you are!"

"Shut up!" Draco hissed.

"You are," smirked Theo.

The blond shook his head vehemently. "I've only known her for a few weeks at most, you idiot. Love takes longer than that."

"What would you know about love?"

At this, Draco raised his eyebrows. "What would you?" he challenged.

"So we both agree that we know nothing about love," grinned Theo, steepling his fingers mock-mysteriously. "Excellent. I do, however, know that you have never smiled like that before in your entire life."

"Like what?"

"Like last night. Right after you kissed Granger."

Draco glared at him.

"Let's have a Slytherin reunion," suggested Theo, his laugh coming from his dark eyes. "A bachelor party for you before you and Granger have bushy-haired half-blood children with alabaster skin. Blaise and Goyle will come."

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's not even serious. And as I've said, we just talk."

"And kiss."

"Irrelevant."

Theo smirked and chuckled softly under his breath; clearly he thought there was more to Draco's outings with Granger. "I know you better than you think," he informed him.

He watched in satisfaction as Draco sighed in defeat and beckoned for Theo to move in closer. His face inches away, Draco could feel Theo's hot, triumphant breath upon his own.

"We've been meeting at the playground," whispered Draco with shifty eyes. "Every night, sometimes during the day. Alright? I like her, Theo."

"Ah?" Theo looked as though Christmas had arrived early. He surreptitiously pulled out a piece of parchment from his pocket. Draco didn't notice.

"You can't tell anyone," ordered Draco firmly, and stood upright again.

"Sure." Theo leaned against the counter, shielding his scrap of parchment from view as he scribbled a short note with a borrowed quill from Flourish and Blotts. Draco paid him no attention—he had already walked past Theo to another aisle and was already rambling on about the Mudblood Granger as he continued shelving books.

Theo glanced up long enough to watch Draco's eyes grow misty…it was sickening. The blond clutched the dirty rag tightly in his hands, holding it in front of his chest, his eyes focused on a point somewhere roughly above Theo's head.

"When you met Sophie," began Draco, "did you feel as though all the thoughts in your head sort of quieted themselves?"

"Er…yes," said Theo vacantly, not paying much attention. "Totally know what you mean, mate."

"It's strange with her," admitted Draco, still not looking at Theo. He seemed a little embarrassed. "Not like it ever was with Pansy."

Theo's quill paused in midair. A droplet of ink fell onto the parchment. "Continue," urged Theo.

Draco looked confused, but he kept talking. "With Pansy I was always angry or annoyed, even if she was trying to make me cheerful or something. But with Hermi—er, Granger, we can just sit on the same playground on opposite sides, and I'm more peaceful than I've ever been in my life."

"Eerie," remarked Theo with a raise of his eyebrows. He set the quill down on the counter; his arm was still shielding it from view.

"It's not that I'm in love with her," insisted Draco firmly, still not looking at Theo orhis quill. "I think I'm just supposed to be with her."

Theo stared.

"Trust me," said Draco. "I'm about as pleased with this as you are." And yet he couldn't wipe the calm smile off of his face.

Theo furrowed his brow thoughtfully and studied Draco carefully. "You really feel that way?" he asked.

Draco nodded, stopped smiling and said, "Trust me. I can't explain it. Anyway, forget I said anything."

It was at this point that Theo made a decision he'd never thought he'd make. This was a crossroads, and Theo made his choice. He'd known Draco for years, and he was the closest thing to a friend he'd had. Why was Theo sticking his neck out for Pansy of all people, when Draco had proven himself to be a far better companion and overall better human being?

Frowning, Theo quickly grabbed the quill again and scribbled two more words at the end of the note, not even bothering to sign his name.

Folding the parchment into a small square, Theo lifted it up in the air as if toasting Draco, then swept from the shop, his dark blue robes billowing behind him. Draco scowled and shrugged to himself. Probably another underhanded note to one of the girls he was cheating on his girlfriend with, asking her where he should next meet her.

Draco statement was half-right, anyway. In actual fact, Theo had hastily scrawled a few short words to one of the girls with whom he had cheated on Sophie. But the note had nothing to do with meeting her.

No, Theo had written something very different and very simple.

Pansy, the note said. It's Granger, and he's happy. Give up.

He was not going to help Pansy. And she could not force him to.

Theo's hands opened as they dropped the note on the counter of the Owl Post Office. The secretary didn't even blink as she collected a Knut from Theo, tied the note to a tawny owl's leg, and sent the creature flying off into the immaculate blue sky.