13
"Well gents, I'm off?" Blaise Zabini announced with a flourish of his hand as he strutted to the centre of the Slytherin common room. Draco and Theodore Nott were seated on the couch closest to the fireplace with school textbooks scattered all around them.
"Off to butter Sluggie's many rolls?" needled Draco with a malicious glint in his eye.
"Hm, is that jealousy I hear in your voice?" Blaise tsked. "I sense someone is a little bitter because they're feeling left out."
Left out was the last thing the Slytherin prince was feeling. He highly doubted anything of interest occurred at Slughorn's stupid little dinner parties. And the thought of being cooped up with Saint Potter and Weaselette in a stuffy office caused a throbbing pain above his left eye. "Don't be daft."
"Shall I recall our conversation on the Hogwarts Express?" Zabini gave Draco an accusatory look.
Scowling, Draco shoved his DADA textbook off his lap and onto the cluttered coffee table. Sure, during the beginning of the year he had felt affronted that Slughorn refused to invite the heir of the Malfoy estate to his gathering aboard the train. But time had taught him that those afflicted feelings came from a deep-seeded urge to please his father, something he neither had the patience nor the will to do anymore.
"A lot has changed since then, Zabini. Now that I know the bumbling fool, I'd rather not waste my time."
Zabini looked from the open books in front of his two Slytherin cohorts to the surrounding seats of the common room, which were practically empty except for a few first years. "So, you'd rather sit here doing homework on a Saturday night than, oh I don't know, have a life?" Zabini shook his head feeling truly sorry for his poor, sheltered housemates. "Well, while you lot are here getting hard over Charms, I'll be at Sluggie's stuffing my cheeks, chatting up Gwenog Jones from the Holyhead Harpies and ensuring an O on my N.E.W.T exam for Potions." With a bounce in his step, the boy headed towards the common room exit.
Draco narrowed his eyes at Zabini's back. He lifted up his textbook, steadying his arm to hurl the text right at the cheeky Slytherin's head before he stepped through the doorway.
"You do know that he deeply enjoys riling you up," Theo drawled from behind a book, stilling Draco's arm.
Draco grumbled under his breath and dropped the textbook back on the coffee table. Of course he knew that Zabini's favourite pastime involved working on Draco's nerves. The fact that the blond's family were known Death Eaters didn't seem to deter the boy from his ribbing either. It was for this reason that Draco continued to associate with Zabini. The brazen Italian said things no one else dared, and that kept Draco grounded.
"The only one spending their Saturday night with their nose in a book is me," stated Theo. "You're going out, aren't you?"
Bloody hell, the blond cursed under his breath. It seemed he underestimated exactly how perceptive Nott could be. Draco hadn't said a word about going to meet Granger tonight. He had no idea how the raven-haired boy knew all the things he did. "Do you always pry into people's lives, or do you just enjoy knowing the particulars of mine?" asked Draco, drly.
Nott clicked his tongue and raised his quill to mark a passage in his text. "You're easy to read," he responded. "Maybe because we're a lot alike."
"We're nothing alike," Draco stated. But even as he said it, he was unconvinced that it held any weight. "What gave me away?"
Without tearing his eyes away from his page, Nott motioned towards where Draco sat across from him. "Your clothes."
My clothes? The Slytherin wasn't wearing anything extraordinary. It had become quite customary to find Draco Malfoy in black slacks and a button-up shirt or turtleneck of the same colour whenever he wasn't in his school uniform. "You mean the fact that I'm in black trousers instead of grey?" asked a bemused Draco.
"No. The fact that your trousers are perfectly pressed and your shirt seems as if it's barely been worn. I assume you're going to see Granger tonight," Nott added the last bit in a hushed tone.
Draco cleared his throat to brush off the twinge of anticipation that pricked the back of his neck at the mention of seeing the fiery Gryffindor. "It's possible that I may run into her as I walk the halls of this pathetic school."
Nott set down his book and levelled Draco with an unreadable stare. It was as if the boy was trying to see through him, moving past tissue and muscle to gain access to something simmering in Draco's subconscious. "Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?" Draco hissed, growing uncomfortable by the intensity of Nott's charcoal eyes.
"I already told you I wouldn't say anything about your infatuation with the muggle-born."
"Bloody hell, Nott! Stop saying I'm infatuated!" whined Draco, sounding very much so like his 11-year old self.
A faint smile graced Nott's lips. "Fine. The point is, I already know your secret so it doesn't make sense trying to hide it."
Draco rolled his eyes and placed his elbows heavily on his knees. He wasn't trying to hide it, it just felt weird admitting to someone else that he had willingly made plans to see Hermione Granger. "Right, well, make sure it stays a fuckin' secret," he grumbled, and then reached out for his textbook once more. "Let's get back to searching these bloody textbooks to see if we can find anything on this 'laws of attraction' shite. I gotta be out of here by 8."
...
...
"The dragons are a nice touch," a welcomed voice sounded from behind Draco and he could feel his face break out into a grin. Him...grinning...he couldn't remember the last time he let himself smile with such wild abandon. "Though, aren't you worried someone might catch on?" She was referring to his choice to mold his notes into an animal so closely associated with his name.
"Not especially," he answered, simply. "Are you implying that I should change it?" he asked, spinning around to face her and his breath caught in his chest. There she stood, a stone's throw away from him in a green, mid-sleeve knitted dress that hugged her waist and flared out around her knees to dance around grey stockings. "You're wearing green." He couldn't stop himself from voicing his surprise. She was wearing green, a colour from his Hogwarts house. The contrast of that beautiful evergreen against the deep chocolate of her curls, which sat in a high ponytail and cascaded towards her shoulders, was breathtaking.
Granger playfully scoffed. "Is it a colour only the Slytherins can wear?"
"No. It's just...I've never...I don't think I've ever really seen you in it before," Draco stuttered. He was quickly beginning to realize he would love to see her in it more often.
She shrugged and walked forward. "Does it bother you?"
"Yes, but not in the way that you think," he admitted, completely enthralled by her.
"You're looking at me like you've never seen someone in a dress before," said Granger with a nervous lilt to her voice in response to the heat of Draco's gaze.
In truth, he had never been so affected by someone in a dress in all his life. He didn't know why seeing her like this stunned him. Perhaps because it was the first time he could readily admit that he found her unequivocally beautiful. And the more he looked at her, the more he wanted to commit every bit of her to memory. "It just..." he flushed, turning away from her. "...caught me off-guard." Off-guard was the polite way of putting it. It peaked his interest in more ways than one.
"Ah, I see." She was so near, so bloody near and his body began to react to the delicious coo of her voice. Draco had to fight the craving to pull her against him.
Say something. He urged himself. "How was Sluggie's party?" In truth, he didn't give a kneazel's arse about how Slughorn's dinner went, but he needed to get his mind off of how close she was. He knew that if he wished to win Granger over, he would have to do so using more of his wit than his physical charm, no matter how badly he wished to press his lips against the side of her jaw.
"Fine. The food was good and there was someone from the Holyhead Harpies was there, which was nice for Ginny and Harry, but-"
"You don't care a lick about Quidditch," Draco finished for her.
"Not so," she pouted, coming to stand next to him and lean on the ledge that overlooked the school grounds. "I'm just more of a distant spectator."
Though she wasn't so distant when Weasley wanted to be Keeper for her house team. Draco thought to himself. In fact, Draco could recall hearing her cheers every time Potter dove after the bloody Snitch. A part of him wondered if she'd ever be willing to cheer for him like that.
"...gosh, look at us," she said breathily after a moment's silence.
"Hm?"
"We're actually having a civil conversation."
"We've had more than one of those," Draco corrected the Gryffindor with a smirk, turning his body towards where she stood next to him.
"I know...and it never ceases to amaze me. I mean I'm here spending time with you and it's not because I've been forced."
"But because you want to," Draco said the statement slowly and pointedly while looking deep into her eyes to judge her reaction.
"Well I don't know who would ever want to spend time with you," she joked, avoiding his gaze and glancing back out towards the grounds.
"We both know that's not true. I'm sure you've heard the rumours," Draco winked, hinting to the murmurs of young women who eyed him whenever he walked through the halls.
Granger rolled her eyes. "Ever the playboy. I thought you were supposed to be betrothed or something."
The Slytherin had to bite his tongue to prevent the bark of laughter that was bursting to come out. Betrothed? Where on earth did she hear that mess?
"Isn't that what your lot does...to ensure that your blood remains pure," the last word sprung from her mouth wrapped in disdain.
"This isn't the 18th century, Granger," said Draco with a roll of his eyes. "We're given suggestions, but I'm not betrothed."
Granger lifted the right side of her mouth in amusement. "And I'm sure I'd be at the very bottom of that list."
"That's an understatement." The remark was meant to be made under his breath, but the Gryffindor was close enough that she was able to pick up on it.
"Will you be disinherited when they find out you've been," she waved her hands around dramatically, "fraternizing with the enemy"
At this, Draco felt some of the blood begin to drain from his face. He didn't expect them to broach such topics tonight. "I thought we were going to stay away from such sensitive subjects"
"I don't see how we can," said Granger, diplomatic as ever. "To be frank, if what's happening between us is going to continue to happen, then I think we both need to acknowledge the fact that I'm part of the reason for your father's imprisonment, and your aunt is the reason why one of my best friends no longer has his godfather."
Malfoy sharply sucked in air. She wasted no time getting to the bloody point. What was he supposed to say to that? The fact that Potter and his merry band of lion-hearted fools were responsible for his father's bout in Azkaban no longer was a sore spot for him. Lucius Malfoy made his choice, as careless as it was. He pitied the man for being so desperate to win the favour of the vile wizard known for leaving a path of destruction wherever he went. Lucius Malfoy's imprisonment was as much his fault as it was Potter's, but how could Draco say anything about his aunt killing his second cousin, Sirius Black.
"I won't speak for my father, nor will I speak for my aunt," the boy answered, choosing his words carefully. "All I can say is that I am neither one of them."
Granger started to rhythmically tap the toe of her left boot against the stone tiles, as if it was beating out a tune to accompany the thoughts bouncing around her head. "What I'm trying to say Malfoy, is that we are on opposite sides of this...feud," she hesitated calling it a war, out of fear perhaps. Though Draco already knew that a war was exactly what was heading in their direction, and she was right, they were on two different sides. Anyone else would take this knowledge as a warning that a relationship between the two of them would be hopeless. It wasn't that Draco wasn't aware of this stipulation, he just found that he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of knowing her any longer.
"You said it previously, you didn't trust me enough to share anything about the Death Eaters and your family. And I highly doubt I would tell you anything about the Order or Harry. So what are we doing here?"
Draco ran a shaky hand through his hair. Her points were valid. They were certainly in over their heads and it would be so much easier to forget the last few days, but the thought caused a lump of dread in Draco's stomach. Now that he had admitted his feelings, turning away from her seemed even more painful than trying to be with her. He couldn't deny himself this, not when there was so much darkness and dread surrounding him. He needed her.
"The fact that we are on two different sides gives us even more reason to be here," Draco began, his heart thumping wildly against his chest. "We've both been fed a lot of shite, me more than you," he looked at her apprehensively, hoping that he hadn't offended her and made things worse.
"I know I owe it to myself to figure out the truth behind the stories I've been told. Acting on what I feel for you is one way to do that, but it can also lead to a larger change." Draco watched nervously as Granger worried her lip in a way that showed she was unconvinced by his words.
"Answer this, Granger," Draco turned himself towards her. "Did you feel something when we kissed?" The brunette gave an almost imperceptible nod. "And aren't you curious about what this "thing" between us could be?" This, of course, was a trick question. There was no way she wasn't, the Gryffindor brain had an insatiable curiousity.
"Well, of course I am," she freely admitted. "But being curious and being wise are two different things. And I don't believe it's wise to encourage a relationship based on lies."
"Whose lying?" asked Draco.
"We are!" said Hermione, incredulously. "If I'm not going to tell you the entire truth about my life, and you won't do the same. Isn't that lying?" The young witch went on, forgetting who she was dealing with.
A sly smile graced Draco's lips. If the "truth" was all she was worried about, there was a way around that. "It's not really lying," he said with practiced innocence. "It's more like an omission."
Granger snorted derisively, "Really, Malfoy? Omission."
"We're merely omitting the details of specific events that would end up endangering ourselves or our family and friends." The Gryffindor began to roll her eyes in annoyance, but Draco reached a hand forward and intertwined their fingers to hold her attention. "Granger, you have my word that I will always act in your best interest, and if anything ever comes up that will harm you or your friends in any way, then I will inform you," the blond spoke earnestly.
"You really mean that, don't you?" she didn't disguise the wonder in her voice.
Draco nodded to reassure her. He may not care much for Potter or Weasley, but he knew that allowing any harm to come to them would also harm the Gryffindor who captivated him. So he vowed right then that if anything detrimental ever surfaced that would put Granger and her friends in danger, then he would find a way to inform her.
"Ok, fine," she relented. "But even if I agree to do the same, that doesn't change the fact that it's practically forbidden for us to engage in anything that goes beyond scathing looks and hurtful insults."
Draco brought her hand to his lip and began to dust the exposed skin with light kisses. "That's the best part, Granger," he could feel a surge of anticipation beginning to build in his chest. The change in her demeanour told him that he persuaded her. "Think of how exciting it'll be."
Granger placed her other hand on his chest to still the Slytherin's romancing. "You may find it thrilling to just dive in head-first, but I think we need to have some sort of a plan. I'm assuming that this," she motioned between them with a faint flush of red colouring the apples of her cheeks, "...this goes beyond friendship."
Draco trailed his slim fingers against the delicate skin of her neck and nodded. "Yes."
"Then, if we're going to do this Malfoy, I want to do it right," her hand gently slipped from his grasp and rested by her side. "I don't know what came over me when I allowed you to kiss me the first time, but I feel as if we've started out a bit backwards. I know very little about you, except that you're an arrogant pureblood," she stated with a cheeky smile.
Schooling his features to mask the fear that he felt, Draco turned so that his back was against the ledge and stared out towards the spiralling stairs that brought him to the Astronomy Tower. He wasn't sure exactly what to tell the inquisitive witch before him without scaring her off. He was a far cry from the other people she regularly associated with. "What is it you'd like to know, my favourite colour?" he teased, trying to distract her.
"No," she shook her head amused and gestured towards him. "I'm pretty sure I know that already."
Draco quirked an eyebrow. "You think it's emerald green because I'm a devoted Slytherin?"
"Am I wrong?"
"You are, actually," said the Slytherin with a wink. "Emerald green is convenient, and I happen to look marvelous in it. But I'm actually quite partial to yellow, like a deep golden yellow that you see in the sky when the sun rises."
"Or on the Gryffindor House crest," Granger said mockingly, grinning boldly at the boy beside her.
"Unfortunately. Which is why I'll never wear it." The Gryffindor expelled a breathy laugh and it was then that Draco realized he took great pleasure in hearing her mirth. He found himself beginning to grin in return.
…
...
Draco was unsure exactly when they ended up sitting down on the stone floor during their chat, but that was where they were now; huddled together to fight off the cold that began to bite at their skin. Granger had just finished telling him about her parents occupation. Apparently in the muggle world they needed people to drill and yank their teeth. Draco did his best to hide the disgust from his face, though he couldn't help but think that a life without magic seemed positively barbarous. Imagine, not being able to care for your own bloody teeth?
"I have to admit that I never really ate sweets," Hermione said, thoughtfully. "Until I came to Hogwarts, that is. The first time I went to Honeydukes I spent so much on sugar quills and cauldron cakes, I swear I had a sugar rush for days."
"Really?" Draco chuckled mischievously. "The way you're hand is always waving around in class you'd swear you ate a cup-full of sugar each morning."
The Gryffindor nudged Draco's shoulder as a playful reprimand before turning towards him with bright eyes. "It's getting late, we should probably head back to our common rooms. I told Harry and Ginny I was running to the library, I doubt that excuse will hold up much longer."
"We could head back," Draco said simply, "but I've never been one for rules." The eye roll that Granger gave him told him that she wasn't about to follow in his footsteps. He watched as she stretched the kinks out of her back, preparing to stand up. She stopped suddenly and bit her lip in a way that drove Draco mad.
"This was...nice," she gave him a soft smile. "I don't know how we'll make this work, but I'm willing to try," she told him honestly.
Draco felt his heart thrumming against his ribcage. He couldn't describe how wonderful it felt to hear her say those words. "That's all I want," his voice came out so gentle and endearing, it even surprised himself. "But we'll have to keep it a secret," he told her, running a finger along the back of her hand.
He noticed that the curly-haired witch began to lean in towards him and this caused his pulse to pick up. "I know," she whispered, fixing him with those beautiful brown orbs that reflected the alluring twinkle of the night sky.
The Slytherin could feel the heat starting to build in the pit of his stomach. Just like the dreams - the thought danced across his skull. Though if he was being completely honest, this was far better than any dream he could think up. "It'll take cunning to figure out how to see each other," he continued, his eyes drifting to her mouth of their own volition.
"I know," she answered with a seductive smirk pulling at her lips.
He felt his mouth go dry. For Salazar's sake, was she trying to tempt him?! He didn't want to make him seem like he had no self-restraint, but bloody hell if she kept looking at him like that, he didn't know how long he could prevent himself from pressing into her and letting his tongue trace the curves of her mouth. Before he could think anything further she closed the distance between them and gently pressed her lips against his.
"Goodnight, Malfoy," she whispered against his mouth, and then rose to her feet and made her way to the stairs.
A/N: I hope you all had a wonderful holiday! I meant to have this uploaded sooner, but time got away from me. Also - I'm thinking of getting a beta to look over my writing to catch grammatical errors as well as to make sure that I'm staying true to the voice of each character and help work through the plot. If anyone is interested, feel free to contact me.