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Chapter 12
Two weeks after he had sent the letter, Draco still had not received a reply from his mother. His stomach was twisting with nerves that morning; not only was he anxious about the letter, but it was also the Quidditch match; the last thing he wanted was Aquila swooping towards him with a howler attached to her leg. His eyes searched the Great Hall in apprehension when the owls fluttered in, but he couldn't see his bird anywhere. Relief flooded through him, but a twinge of annoyance also nagged his mind – why hadn't she replied?
Draco smiled tentatively at Hermione as she sat down beside him. She still hadn't forgiven him for his bold gesture the other day in front of everyone, and their relationship had become a little frosty. However, he was adamant that he was right and he believed she was too stubborn to accept that. He would certainly not apologise. In fact, he had rather enjoyed kissing her hand. On the other hand, Draco had definitely not enjoyed the questions and the looks he had received during his classes, not to mention every time Minerva walked past him she gave him a wink. A wink? Really? Of course, he didn't deny the fact that he and Hermione were a couple to his students, but he suspected that she still was, considering a lot of the pupils asked the question more than once. The hype of it had begun to die down, however, and it was with relief the day before, that when he had finished all his classes, no one had mentioned a word of his and Hermione's relationship.
"Who do you think will win today?" He asked the woman beside him, hoping she'd reply in a civil manner since all she'd been doing recently was staring at him disdainfully and answering with some sort of sarcasm.
"Gryffindor, since they are the better team," she replied bluntly, giving him a shadow of a smile. She was warming up to him again, albeit slowly. "You should see the moves we've got going."
"Is that so? I hope to prove you wrong, Granger – I reckon Slytherin will probably win the Cup this year considering you haven't got Potter to save your arses." Draco smirked.
"Oh, is that why you've won these past three years, Malfoy?" She asked innocently.
"Our team wasn't as good, if I'm honest. This is a good batch, this year." He insisted. "So, I'll ask again; who do you think will win, Granger?"
She slapped a hand on the table, knocking a glass of pumpkin juice over. "What's with the surnames?"
Draco waved his wand and the sticky juice disappeared. He then shrugged: "It adds to the banter, I must say."
"It makes us sound like we aren't friends." She grumbled. "Too much like our school days."
"We are friends," he replied quietly, "and more, if you'd care to remember."
She gave him a sideways glance and then looked away sheepishly. Fiddling with her serviette, she mumbled, "I'm sorry for being really moody, lately. It just took me by surprise and I wasn't ready for it – we'd only just made the deal to tell people."
"It's better to get it out quickly though, no use beating around the bush." He said fairly cheerfully. "Are you sure you aren't …"
"Aren't what?"
"Y'know,"
"No, I don't know," she said half amused and half exasperated.
"In your grouchy time of the month?" He said in a hushed whisper.
There was a pause and then Hermione burst out laughing. "Oh, Draco, that is one of the funniest things I have ever heard you say! Are you joking?"
He shrugged and smiled crookedly. "Not really, I was honestly curious. You looked ready to tear a Blast-Ended Skrewt apart."
She gave a shudder, "Ugh, don't remind me of those creatures! But no, Draco, I am not in my grouchy time of the month as you so aptly put it."
He seemed satisfied at that answer. "Are we back to normal then?"
"I guess we are," she smiled at him and wanted more than anything to kiss those perfect lips of his.
"Good, because you were getting really boring," he rolled his eyes and stuffed the remainder of his croissant in his mouth. "Does this also mean we're allowed to show public displays of affection?"
"Er," Hermione almost giggled at his behaviour. "Not around here – I still stand by it being unprofessional."
"We could talk to Minerva," he suggested, swallowing hard.
"Yeah, maybe, we'll see what she says about it."
"Though I still believe she thinks it's okay judging by her previous behaviour." He sent the headmistress a sidelong glance.
"Mm, we'll ask her later," Hermione mumbled distractedly. "How many do we have for the Yule Ball?"
Draco looked thrown for a moment from the change of subject. "All of fourth, fifth and sixth year and a few of seventh. Not many people going from younger years; only about ten from third and none from the rest."
Hermione nodded appreciatively. "That's rather a lot. We'll need to write up a menu to tell the house-elves. Do you think …" she trailed off, slightly embarrassed.
"Think what?" he asked gently.
"Well, do you think Harry and Ron could come? And maybe Ginny?" Hermione bit her lip nervously.
Draco snorted. "No, that would ruin the evening."
She looked affronted. "No it wouldn't!"
"Yes it would." He bit back snidely. "Potter is the Boy-Who-Would-Not-Die and so all the attention would be on him – he wouldn't be left alone all evening and neither would his sidekick or his wife. Plus, I can't stand their company."
"Are you feeling a little jealous, Draco?" Hermione smirked. "And don't call Harry that – it's not his fault Voldemort was some psycho."
Draco rolled his eyes. "I'll only be jealous of people not noticing the fabulous decorations that we'll have put up. Yeah, I will agree that Voldemort was a nutcase but Potter could get off his high hippogriff."
"Harry? On his high hippogriff?" She laughed incredulously. "Draco, I think you seem to be forgetting your childhood of being so high on your hippogriff you couldn't even see the ground."
He narrowed his eyes. "He's arrogant and you know it."
Hermione sighed. "Draco," she began sternly. "Harry is the furthest thing from arrogant. Please can we not argue about this – it'll be fruitless and my head is beginning to hurt already."
"Fine," he said stiffly, but still glanced worriedly at her face. "Is your head really hurting?"
She gazed at his concerned features and felt a rush of affection towards the blond man beside her. Was this really Draco Malfoy, the boy who taunted and teased her at school, looking out for her, making sure she was okay and in a relationship with? It seemed hard to believe. "Not yet," she replied gently with a smile. "Fancy coming up to my quarters whilst I get some warm things before the match?"
His eyes brightened and he guzzled down the rest of his breakfast as Hermione got up from the table to leave. He waited until she was just outside the Great Hall to follow; he thought he would humour her insistence that they walk separately. Plus, all the questions from his students were getting rather tiresome – he saw no reason to fuel their rumours at that moment. He joined her once they were out of view from the rest of the school and, taking her hand, he almost ran up the seven flights of stairs to her rooms.
Once her portrait had swung open, Hermione latched her lips onto Draco's and they stumbled into her bedroom wrapped in a tricky embrace. She felt the bed knock against the back of her legs and she almost fell if it weren't for Draco's arms supporting her. He didn't seem to notice, however, and kept kissing her, moving his mouth down her neck to her collarbone where she shivered with pleasure. He began to remove their outer robes, throwing them onto the floor whilst he laid her gently down on the bed.
In a break of the extreme passion Hermione was beginning to experience, her mind awoke from its sluggish haze that had descended as soon as they entered her quarters. Is this leading to sex? She suddenly thought, feeling slightly alarmed at the prospect. Though she would indeed like to make love to this rather gorgeous man on top of her, she felt that now was not the right time. For her, it was much too soon in their relationship. Plus, they had a Quidditch match to get to!
Her thoughts were interrupted by Draco's hand snaking its way under her shirt and his fingers grazed the lacy material of her bra. Okay, this is too fast right now. With a reluctant look, she gently tugged his hand away and wriggled out from under his body. Getting up, she smoothed down her shirt and couldn't help but feel a little guilty at the reproachful gaze he sent her. "Did I do something wrong?"
She shook her head, "No, not at all; it was going rather well." She gave a little chuckle. "It's just a bit too fast for my liking."
"Oh, right." He said shortly, sitting on the bed looking sorry for himself. He picked up their robes and held hers out for her to take.
"Draco," she began, really hoping that he wasn't going to go into a sulk. "I really enjoyed what we just did, it's just I don't want to do that now. Not when we have a Quidditch match to get to in five minutes and not in my bed on a random Saturday morning. I want it to be special, to be led up to."
His posture softened and he got up to embrace her gently. Kissing her on the head, he murmured, "You're right, it is the wrong timing. I'm sorry."
She smiled against his chest, inhaling the fresh and woody scent. "Shall we go down?"
He nodded and Hermione broke apart, grabbing her red woollen scarf that Neville had bought her and some black gloves, before leading the way out of her quarters.
When they were just emerging outside after a walk in a comfortable silence, Draco suddenly asked in a low voice, "Hermione, have you – have you slept with someone before?"
Hermione glanced at him oddly. "Yes, I have as a matter of fact."
He looked fairly surprised. "Oh, I – who with? If you don't mind me asking, of course." He added hurriedly.
"Ron," she sighed. "He was very sweet and romantic – we had a picnic on this deserted hill at sunset. It was beautiful. Then we went back to his flat which he'd shared with Harry before he married Ginny. Fortunately, Harry was out at the time!"
"Oh," Draco was silently impressed which he would never dare to admit. But he had honestly thought Ron to be the type of guy to clumsily force himself onto Hermione.
"Before you ask, I am not going to tell you whether it was good or bad," she laughed. "You have no right to know that information."
He rolled his eyes heavily. "Fine. Though I wasn't going to anyway."
Hermione continued to chuckle as they approached the stands. They were surrounded by a sea of black as the students jostled past them. The sixth year girl, Georgia, managed to catch Hermione's eye and she gave them an interesting look. She responded by giving her the glare McGonagall used to send Harry and Ron when they were misbehaving.
"What are you looking so thunderous about? Are you sure you aren't on your period?" He asked, nudging her painfully in the ribs.
She gave an exasperated huff and stalked on ahead, weaving between pupils and ignoring Draco's amused laugh. She clambered the steps up to the professor's stand and wedged herself between Minerva and Aurora Sinistra so she didn't have to stand next Draco. However, he had managed to procure himself a seat directly behind her and proceeded to tug on different strands of her hair.
Hermione steadily ignored him as the match began, making sure to cheer extremely loudly when Gryffindor scored or when Slytherin missed a shot.
"You aren't promoting House unity very well, Hermione," a voice whispered huskily in her ear over the roaring of the crowd.
She turned around and sent him a withering look. "This is different – it's Quidditch and I'm Head of House."
He shrugged. "Promise you won't be a sore loser when we win?"
"Fine, but that won't happen. Promise you won't?"
He flashed a smile. "When have I ever been a sore loser in anything?"
At this, Hermione cracked a grin and snorted. "Oh dear, I won't bother answering that …"
She switched her gaze back to the exciting game before her – at the moment it was pretty close, with Gryffindor just pulling ahead by ten points. She winced as a Slytherin Beater whacked a Bludger in the direction of Sam Briar who managed to swerve out of the way just in time, but wasn't able to escape the Chaser who collided with him with a nasty crunch. There was a cry of outrage from the Gryffindors which was quickly drowned by the excited yells of the Slytherins as their Seeker, Wesley Trott, lay low on his broom and zoomed towards the Slytherin hoops – the Snitch was hovering a few feet from it, the golden shell glinting in the weak November sun. Briar, who had lost a lot of height from his crash, tried helplessly to catch up with Trott but to no avail, even equipped with the latest Firebolt. There was an explosion of shouts from the students clad in green and silver as Trott's hand enclosed around the Snitch, and he held it in the air with a smug look upon his face.
"Well, didn't I say?" Draco held out his hand for Hermione to shake it. With a reluctant smile, she congratulated him.
"Good, but this doesn't mean you've won the cup!" She reminded him quickly. "Plus, that was a dirty trick you played."
"Ah!" He waggled his finger in her face. "You promised!"
"I'm not being a sore loser," she grumbled as they began to leave the stand. "I'm merely commenting on a cheeky bit of flying."
"It was tactics and good ones at that," Draco said approvingly. "After all, we are Slytherins."
She opened her mouth to retort but realised she'd be playing into his hands – it would make her sound like a sore loser. He glanced at her smugly as they left with the throng of students and professors.
"Hermione!"
She turned to find Minerva waving at her over some students' heads. She paused and Draco stayed with her, waiting for the children to move past and for Minerva to join them. "Yes, Professor?"
The headmistress shot Draco a slightly disapproving look before speaking. "I suppose you can listen too. Anyway, I was curious about two things – how is the Yule Ball coming on and …" Minerva pursed her lips. "What is going on between you two?"
Hermione heaved a sigh, knowing that this conversation was inevitable, yet she did not expect it to be broached so soon even though she and Draco had thought about speaking to the headmistress. "The Yule Ball is going very well – we have a lot of people attending this year. We need to run through a menu with the house-elves and then get some decorations finalised."
Minerva looked pleased. "And, the other point?"
Draco glanced around and noticed that they were all alone standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. "Actually, Minerva, we were going to talk to you about this."
"Good, that makes things a whole lot less awkward."
"Hermione and I are together … like a couple." Draco blurted out before Hermione could skate around the details. "We know that this may compromise our positions as professors in the school, but we're hoping that we can come to some kind of agreement."
Minerva eyed them both shrewdly for a moment before responding with: "I'll speak to you another time about that. Thanks for letting me know officially – I'll see you this evening."
Sending a bemused but worried look at Draco, Hermione watched as Minerva left them both in a flourish of her cloak. "What do you think she meant by 'another time?'"
He shrugged and began to follow the headmistress's footsteps towards the castle. The cold air was beginning to bite at his uncovered ears and nose. "Uh, another time perhaps?"
"Very funny!" She jogged beside him to keep up with his long strides as well as keeping the warmth running through her body. "If she doesn't allow it, what will we do?"
"I'll leave," Draco said over his shoulder to her. They were almost back inside and he was picturing the crackling fire in his quarters, the cosy warmth spreading through his slowly numbing fingers and toes. He heard Hermione's stomping come to an abrupt halt and, rolling his eyes, he turned around to face her.
"You can't do that!" She said, completely outraged.
"I've worked here longer than you, you're more favoured, there are plenty of Potion Masters out there and my parents would be happier." He replied flatly, closing the subject by walking the last fifty yards to the castle. Ahh, he could just imagine lying on his sofa with a glass of Firewhiskey, closing his eyes and falling asleep. "Hermione, I'm going to pass on lunch and go back to my rooms for a bit. I'll see you later on."
Hermione had lagged further behind due to her stop and barely heard him as he disappeared down to the dungeons. "What was he on about," she muttered to herself darkly, charging towards the Great Hall for lunch. "More favoured my arse – doesn't he realise all the girls are besotted with him?"
She didn't say much to the professors beside her on the staff table. She wasn't in the mood to make much conversation – her mind was preoccupied with what Minerva would say to her and Draco about their relationship. After lunch, she busied herself in her quarters by marking some homework papers and then jotting down some rough ideas for the Yule Ball's menu. By the time she finished, it was almost dinner time so she decided to see Draco before they went for food.
Hermione took a breath as she knocked on his portrait door. She didn't know why she was nervous – he wasn't annoyed with her or anything … so why did she feel such trepidation? Before her thoughts could continue in a spiralling mess, the portrait opened and Draco stood there, tall and relaxed, looking thoroughly gorgeous. She froze for a minute before finally thrusting out her hand with the menu clutched tightly in her fist.
"Hello, Draco." he said for her, trying not to laugh at her awkward behaviour. "How lovely to see you – I've brought a piece of parchment with scribbles on which I thought you may be able to decipher." He sighed. "Sorry, Hermione, I can't read it."
Snapping out of her stunned frame of mind, Hermione huffed and barged past him, snatching the parchment back. "It's the menu you idiot. I've written down some suggestions for the Yule Ball."
Draco stared down at the sofa which she had collapsed upon, her legs perched on top of the armrest. "Yes, you're welcome to come in, Hermione, make yourself at home."
"What's with your sarcasm today? You've gone into overdrive." She scowled up at him. "Anyway, I was thinking for starters, we could have some kind of soup-"
"Boring," he interrupted with a wave of his hand. "You want something interesting and different. We can have soup anytime of the year. A few years ago, my parents hosted one of their insufferable parties and there was this delicious starter." He paused, trying to remember what it was. "I think it was some kind of tartlet …"
"Red onion and brie? I've had that before and it was great," Hermione said, a quill poised in her hand ready to scribble out soup and replace with tartlets.
Draco nodded. "Yeah, something like that. We could fiddle around a bit with different ideas – the elves would probably know best anyway."
"Right, main course." She moved on quickly, tapping the parchment where she had written down numerous foods. "Obviously, we'll have turkey, but if some people are vegetarians we need a substitute. And what about fish? Do you think people would like fish? Or beef? What about lamb!"
"Woah, chill." Draco backed away slightly, slightly wary of her wild expression. "Stick with turkey – it's easy and traditional. And have a nut-roast for those people who are weird enough to not like meat." He added with a look of disdain.
"And what if they're allergic to nuts?" Hermione challenged, choosing to ignore his snide comment about some people's lifestyles.
"Er, a tart?" he suggested feebly.
"We can't have two things with pastry!" She argued, frowning in thought. "I'll just ask the elves to rustle something up for them."
"Okay, and dessert?"
"Christmas pudding, duh!"
"What if you don't like mixed fruit?"
"Pick them out."
"That's ridiculous, Hermione, you can't do that." Draco laughed, shaking his head. "We should have Christmas pudding, treacle tart, chocolate fudge cake and sticky toffee pudding."
"Ugh, so much cakey, stodgy fattiness!" Hermione grimaced, reluctant to write it down. "How about we switch the treacle tart for a meringue pie or a trifle of some sort?"
"Fine, whatever, this is making me hungry – shall we head on up?"
The next morning, Draco received a reply from his mother. He was afraid to open it at the breakfast table, so excusing himself quickly after swallowing the rest of his toast, he left the Great Hall and headed down to his quarters. Once seated at his writing desk, he finally opened the parchment and began to read.
Draco,
We are proud of your position at Hogwarts – how could you suggest otherwise? It just took a little time getting used to the idea, especially as your father wanted you to go to Durmstrang; we just didn't expect
I apologise if you feel that we are organising your social life. Your father and I want what's best for you and perhaps – I am starting to realise this – we have made some bad decisions in the past which have reflected this poorly.
I daresay that Granger is a remarkable young woman. I certainly heard enough complaints coming from your mouth during your time at Hogwarts: 'She's an insufferable know-it-all' and 'always has her head stuck in a book'. There's no denying her skill which was evident during the War. I am glad that you have befriended her, but I still encourage you to keep your distance as- Draco snorted. That certainly hadn't happened. –as it could lead to something messy if you get too close.
Oh, my son, I know I haven't said it many times but I do love you, I really do. I know your father feels the same even though he has an odd way of showing it.
Yours,
Mother
Draco sighed, leant back in his chair and closed his eyes. He did not expect that. A howler? An angry letter full of reprimands? A short message cutting him off from his family? That was what he expected. He reread the letter twice more before his heart finally swelled with joy at his mother's words. He ignored her request of 'keep your distance as it could lead to something messy' and knew that her letter was one massive apology, no matter how hard she tried to disguise it with words. How very Slytherin.
Almost bursting with happiness, Draco leapt up from his chair and went to find Hermione in the castle. He wanted to tell her the news, tell her that it was all going to be fine as he was sure that his mother would find their relationship okay. He knew she was clutching at straws.
He guessed the Great Hall would be almost empty so he headed straight up to her rooms, knowing that she liked write letters to her friends and family on a Sunday morning. Approaching her portrait, he was surprised when it swung open before he even knocked. The wonderful woman he was looking for was already coming out of the hole and looked pleased to see him.
"I was just coming to find you. I was a little worried when you ran off at breakfast with your letter. I assumed it was from your mother?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"Yes," he grinned. "She basically said sorry for making bad decisions, trying to get involved in my social life and for not saying 'I love you' enough. And she said not to get too close to you as it could get messy." He laughed again at this. "I don't mind though, as I'm sure she'll accept it well when I send her the next letter stating that it's too late."
Hermione beamed and threw her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. "Oh, Draco, that's brilliant news. But what about your father?"
"I don't know," he murmured into her hair, not sounding too fazed about him finding out. "I'm sure he'll come round eventually. I think mother will take time too, but she won't openly express it."
Hermione embraced him tighter. "I'm so happy right now."
"Me too," Draco lifted a hand to tilt her chin up towards him. He gently kissed her on the lips and just as he pulled away, Minerva announced her appearance with a light cough.
"Minerva!" Hermione jumped away from Draco and blushed furiously. "I'm sorry; it's unacceptable to do it here."
"You're right about that," the headmistress said stiffly. "However, I will allow you to be a couple as long as you refrain from displaying signs of affection outside of your quarters."
Draco grinned. "What if the corridor's empty?"
"You never know when someone could enter one, Draco."
"Hidden staircase?"
"No."
"Empty classroom?"
"No."
"Okay, behind a statue?"
"Mister Malfoy, I think I have made it quite clear to you that you must stay within your quarters before you – you frolic about!" Minerva's mouth was in a harsh line and she glared at Draco. "I am already allowing you to have a relationship – do not push it!"
Hermione jabbed Draco in the stomach once the headmistress left with a huff. He winced but laughed all the same.
"You can't say things like that to her, Draco! That was incredibly rude!" Hermione chastised, dragging him into her quarters.
"It was funny," Draco said, trying to stifle his laughter. "I can't help it – I'm in a good mood."
"I know," she said, smiling a little. "How about we continue from where we left off?"
Hey guys, I hope you like this! I really enjoyed writing for some reason. Please review or I might have to start making threats ... hahaha ;) Thanks to you guys who do and thanks again to GiantInflatableWalrus - a great beta!
