He knew where to find her – in the library, of course. Where else? – he snorted out of dismay before dragging himself up on the moving staircases. So, after playing out at least twenty scenarios in his head, knowing that none of them would be sufficient as Hermione's reaction was impossible to foresee at best, he stepped into the maze of books for the purpose of cornering her.
They needed to speak and there was no more time to waste on hiding from each other.
So he strutted to her well-known alcove, smirking ear to ear when seeing her nose buried deep in a book, thus not even noticing him approach. The light crease between her brows and the dabbing of her index finger on the leather surface was a firm confirmation of his assumption.
Fuelled by the need for petty revenge for not showing up in the bathroom or either helping him with the potion, he simply touched his flask to her leg, awaiting her response. She squealed, feeling the cold metal against her bare skin and threw the book away. It collided with the wall.
Even just catching a glimpse, he knew it was about magical creatures, unicorns to be precise.
"What's your problem?" she attacked, immediately on her feet and looking at Draco with eyes full of venom. The smirk melted down from his face.
He sighed, "So you fixed the flask," he concluded. "I thought it would cause you bigger harm than a timid yelp."
"Yes, and you get out of your hiding place, I see," she lashed out, her hair flying in every way with her intense gesticulation. She shook her head, visibly having enough even by the sight of him, "Wait," she stopped herself, "You weren't sure if I had managed to fix that," and with pointing a vicious finger at him that jabbed him in the sternum, she accused, "And still, you touched it to me! You knew what it could cause! I could have been burned, Malfoy!"
He merely nodded not even trying to feign being impressed and this only earned him a glare. But before she could have hurled a hex at him, he managed to grab her wrist, stopping her in the middle of a feisty non-verbal spell, intended to blast off his head from his neck.
"Calm down, Granger. You know me – I like to experiment," he offered, cocking an arrogant brow at her direction. She tried to jerk her hand away from his clutch, but he didn't let her – it would surely mean more harm to his poor self. "But, humour aside, we need to speak. I came with peace, Granger."
At that she narrowed her eyes, "With trying to burn me? Thanks, but next time I'd like to avoid your rare displays of politeness towards my kind." Her teeth gritted together as she pressed on the last word. Draco pretended not to understand, "Mudblood, remember?" and at that, she waved toward herself with her free hand, irritated that the other was still his prisoner, "Thought I was inferior to you," she spat.
"Don't call yourself a Mudblood," he hissed, letting go of her wrist. He watched it fell beside her.
She scoffed at his words, and was ready to flee the room, or more likely from him, but before she could have ducked away, he stepped closer, making her back away. One step forward for him meant one step backward for her. They continued with the weird dance, until her back was flush against the bookshelves.
"This does not change the fact that we must speak," he pressed on, nearly melting her timid form in the wood. "Granger, we don't have time for your hysterics."
She bristled at that, her eyes glinting at him with malicious glee as he was sure she was in the middle of planning his demise. She fisted her hands beside her as she took of a stance with determination, pressing against his chest, and nearly throwing him off balance with its intensity.
She punched him in the gut as an answer. "And we don't have time for you playing around with lives either," she said with shaky, but firm voice, the tears threatening to escape from her hazel eyes.
Draco cursed his luck, clutching his side with one hand as he bent forward, getting in eye-level with the deputy Head Girl. With his other hand he held himself up, leaning to the bookcase, just near Hermione's head, thus whispering the strained words in her face, "Damn it Granger, I was not playing."
Hermione rolled her eyes, not even slightly intimidated by his close proximity like before, "And I'm sure you were also not just playing when you conveniently forgot to tell me more of the Vindico Parea. For example it's true name," she emphasised, scowling at him with the same expression he often used on others.
Draco rolled his stormy marbles; that close to lose his shit, "Granger, don't be a dolt! Just because you didn't know its name, it doesn't mean I withheld anything! For all I know, my mother used that expression. That was the first time I heard it, too. No other and no book mentioned it. To hell, not even Snape's portrait told me the last time we spo—!"
"Last time?" she demanded, cutting him off and immediately picking up on his mistake, "Last time, you say, Draco? You spoke with Snape more than one time? Without telling me?"
Fuck – he cursed inwardly – fuck, fuck, fuck. He hammered his head for any ideas to get her still and listen to him, because the way their conversation took was everything but not to his advances.
"No, I didn't," he answered with a neutral expression, but seeing her eyes glint in the faint lighting, he knew she didn't buy it.
"Liar," she spat.
Now that was a low blow. He stumbled backwards, her word echoing in his head, throwing itself against his skull just to bounce back with full force and slap him all across his face, repeatedly.
He hated that word, purely, and of course she needed to use the only one word that still could make his carefully built up walls crumble. Hell, she could have hurled asshole, git, white bouncy ferret at him, but none of them would have struck the way liar did.
It was sobering and made his back ache with awareness.
"Hermione," he asked – for what he didn't even know – with the most gentle tone he might have ever used; his hand opening up for hers, hopeful. "I... I'm... that is not how I—!"
Defiantly turning her head away she waved at him like he was of no importance, like he wasn't even worthy of her attention, and Draco became painfully aware how her trust slipped out of his hands. She put every of her hope in him, his help and his abilities and now, it all seemed to have been evaporated from his gentle cradle.
"Just tell me what I did," he asked once more, now looking down on the tiles, marvelling how it reflected the both of them, Hermione with a stubborn posture, chin held upwards proudly like a warrior lioness she was, and him, brooding and lost like a kicked out puppy. It was truly pathetic. "You just disappear for two weeks, not even saying a word to anyone and hiding in your damned tower for no purpose at all! And then, out of no-fucking-where, I became the bad guy! Again! What the fuck have I done to you, Hermione?"
"It's called betrayal, Draco," she snapped and was about to turn away and leave him for good, but his fingers suddenly found her wrist and pulling her back to her former position, he towered above her.
She could feel his hot breaths fanning over her cheeks, his closeness making goose-bumps appear on her skin. She felt the healthy blush occupy her cheeks and the way their chests met up while they drank the air in big slurps. It moved something within her, but for what direction, she had no idea.
"You know nothing of it," he muttered in a way that made all the hair stand up proudly on her body, the shiver running a marathon over her spine making her bent forward and more of their body-parts touch, directly.
She was sure he could feel her breasts firmly pushed against his rock hard pectoral, but he didn't show whether he was aware of that or not. But seeing the nerves clearly displayed on his face and not buried under his usual, insensitive mask, she was sure it had slipped his attention.
"There are things you know nothing of, Hermione Granger. And my business is one of them," he drawled in her earlobes, his hot exhales grazing her skin and she felt the heat roll in her abdomen. "Don't ever try to understand," he snarled.
For moments all they heard from the outside of their private bubble was their rushed breaths, and Hermione needed minutes to realize what had just happened, before answering.
"Jean," he lifted an arrogant eyebrow at her, demanding her to continue. The gentleness in her voice surprised him and he wasn't sure where to put her reaction, "Hermione Jean Granger," she amended defiantly, and he sucked in a sharp breath, surely out of irritation.
"Whatever," he said in the end, and pressing her a little more in the books that were now hurting her back, he added, "And don't forget to be in the bathroom tomorrow. I need... company," not help, definitely not, because it would have sounded more pathetic than Draco had already felt. So he chose to demand instead of ask, and said company instead of help.
She seemed like she knew exactly what he tried to not say, "Continuing the potion?"
With that, the tension disappeared from between them, as both of them let their guard down. The tenseness from their muscles and their heaving breathing softened and they suddenly realized how close they really were, from hips to pectorals, touching each other.
It was intimate, but not awkward. Even if they wanted to make it that, it wasn't, because at least, they could have managed to cope with awkwardness, but not with intimacy. It was strange to them – a new way of seeing things, a new perspective to see their relationship from.
He scurried away a little, but immediately pulling her with him, afraid to lose contact. Almost imperceptibly, his arms snaked around her, holding her in his embrace. Like she was a column with strong, stubborn ivy twined firmly around her, intending to release her never-ever.
"I wouldn't give up on it," he muttered.
Hermione nodded and loosened in his hug, burrowing her head in his delicious, dark chocolate scent. At least there was no whiskey in it, by now, a clear sign of his change. She didn't dare believe it was all for her.
"Have you figured out anything?" he asked quietly, cautious not to bother their fragile peace.
"Just a few uninteresting facts," she whispered against his exclusive robes, her eyes drooping in the safe shelter he provided, "Unicorns eat poisonous plants, are attracted to royalties and have a ridiculously good sense about people and their intentions. They would know if we try to lure them out for their blood, Malfoy."
"Maybe Estrella can help us," he offered, resting his chin on the top of her unruly curls. He didn't know when they got this comfortable in the other's presence, but it was calming to know there was someone out there to lean on. "And resort back to Draco."
"Maybe," was all she said.
Okay, I'm really curious what you think! It's solved, t's fixed, it's mysterious and they're idiots. And personally, I fell in love with this chapter. Or is it just me? ;D