A/N: So it's been, what, a year since I've last updated? Real sorry about that! School is driving me up the wall!
Previously:
She closed her eyes, bowing her head only to a certain extent so as not to touch his. His will slowly crumbled as he lost sight of that pure gold in her eyes...and he let out a sigh.
"Why do you toy with me, Malfoy?" she murmured.
Was that what she thought? He clenched his fists in self-anger. He was about to answer, when they both heard a voice.
"Well, well, well. Isn'tthisinteresting?"
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Hermione whipped her head around, her face feeling cold. What had just happened? she couldn't help thinking, but she pushed the thought away. The petite figure at the doorway had a wicked grin sporting her features, and her eyes twinkled mischievously. Yes, Hermione was definitely doomed now. She could still feel Malfoy next to her, and his extremely close proximity to her was muffling her thoughts. She leaned away from him, trying to stare at the person in the doorway with a degree of hardness.
"What do you want, Greengrass?" came Malfoy's resigned sigh.
Daphne sidled into the room, shutting the door behind her. "Draco, Draco, Draco," she said mockingly, "I should have known..."
She jumped onto the bed closest to the door, and Hermione had to turn right around – her back facing Malfoy – in order to see Daphne. The girl looked too awake for Hermione's comfort. She should have been swaying off to sleep by now... her eyes weren't even drifting shut! Hermione narrowed her eyes as suspicion crept through her system. "Who are you?" she demanded, her hand reaching towards her pocket.
She heard Malfoy sigh behind her, and Hermione stifled a shiver as his warm breath blew across her naked neck. "Hermione, we've just been through this," he said tiredly, and yet again she felt his warm words against her skin.
For her own safety, she reached up to undo her ponytail. Relief temporarily washed over her as she felt her hair covering her neck, like a barrier. She focused her attention on the Daphne-lookalike, and hesitated. Why was the girl looking over Hermione's shoulder with eyebrows raised in...amusement? Hermione shrugged it off. "She could be an impostor, Malfoy," she whispered, turning her head slightly to look over her shoulder.
"Yeah, standing right here," the Daphne-lookalike commented wryly.
Hermione turned back to look at her. "Who are you?" she asked again, this time her wand pointed right at her.
The Daphne-lookalike looked back at her blankly. She looked over Hermione's shoulder, and asked, "Is she serious?" Ah, she was talking to Malfoy. So, earlier, the two of them must have been engaging in silent communication.
"Unfortunately," came Malfoy's reply from her...hang on. Had he moved? Hermione turned her head slightly, and found out that Malfoy was now sitting on the bed furthest away from her. She disregarded the pang of uneasiness as she realized that he had probably realized that she was too close to him for comfort. "I got bombarded with countless of questions when I came in. She thought that I was Romilda Vane," Malfoy continued.
"You could have been," Hermione shot back. She turned back to face Daphne-lookalike. "Prove it," she commanded.
The girl looked back at her. "I don't have to prove anything," she said, sounding bored.
Why was she making it so hard? "Prove it," Hermione repeated, gripping her wand tighter.
The Daphne-lookalike rolled her eyes. "Look, dude, if I was Romilda Vane – which, thank Merlin, I'm not – I wouldn't think about attacking you with Big Idiot over there," she said in a monotone, jerking her head in Malfoy's direction.
"The Daphne I know," Hermione began ("Here we go," came Malfoy's dry comment) – "would be half-dead on her feet by now due to the character she's been given. Right now, you look completely awake, which is impossible given the current situation."
Daphne-lookalike raised her eyebrows. "Fine. Ask me a question, and I'll prove that I am who I say I am," she said.
Hermione thought. What could she ask that only she and Daphne would know about? Truth be told, she had hardly any interaction with Daphne to begin with...
"I'll ask it," Malfoy said, sounding as if he had just come up with a brilliant idea. Hermione shifted to the right, positioning herself against the headboard so that she could see both Malfoy and the Daphne-lookalike.
Malfoy's eyes flickered in her direction first, and they shined with such intense emotion that Hermione found it impossible to look away. His lips were curled up into a smirk. "Greengrass," he said, still looking at Hermione. Hermione licked her lips nervously. "What confidential little thing did you tell me in my Common Room this afternoon?"
Hermione felt her eyes widen, and she wrenched her gaze away from Malfoy to look at the Daphne-lookalike.
The girl smirked at Hermione. "That Hermione here is currently infatuated with you."
Hermione stopped breathing. She felt her eyes redden, and felt glad that her hair was covering them. She dared herself to look at Malfoy, but when she did, she found no give-away expression on his face. She couldn't even tell what he was thinking. He was still gazing at her rather intensely, but his mouth was still pulled up into a smirk. Was he deliberately torturing her?
"And how do you know this?" he asked the Daphne-lookalike conversationally, maintaining eye contact with Hermione.
And then Hermione heard the words she was dreading to hear. "She told me so herself," the girl finished off, the tone in her voice hinting at amusement.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room as Hermione and Malfoy continued to stare at each other. She still couldn't derive anything from his features; he had his mask back on. Her heart rate had picked up dramatically, and she wondered if the other two could hear it. At the precise moment that she clenched her teeth in frustration, Malfoy closed his eyes, and the spell was broken.
"Well, this is fun," Daphne – yes, Hermione knew it was Daphne – commented.
Hermione dove into the deep end, trusting her instinct, "Well, of course I'm infatuated with him," she said, now looking at Daphne.
"Really," Daphne said, rolling her eyes.
"Yes, like I told you so yesterday, Daphne, it's the character that I'm playing that's acting out," Hermione said honestly. She could feel Malfoy's gaze on her, but she decided not to care. "I thought it was perfectly obvious."
"Uh huh," Daphne said. "Let's not have a big debate about this again, shall we? We already know who will win ... just like I did before."
Hermione's eyes widened. She desperately hoped that Daphne wouldn't bring up their debate. But, right now, Hermione wouldn't even put it passed her.
"What did you tell her before?" Malfoy asked, and Hermione could sense a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.
"Look, Daphne," Hermione said, before Daphne could answer. "I was really worried about you."
"Surely, Granger, you could have changed the subject more subtly?" Daphne asked, grinning.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. She heard Malfoy laugh quietly. "How did you get here without falling off to sleep all the way?" Hermione asked, disregarding his reaction.
"I fought it," Daphne said simply.
Hermione blinked. "You... you fought it?" she asked, shocked.
"Yip."
"But how?" Hermione pressed.
"It's called determination, Granger," she said, rolling her eyes.
Hermione felt her mouth drop open.
"But that's impossible," Malfoy stated.
"Many things are said to be impossible, Malfoy, but you always get the odd case proving the opposite," Daphne said, looking down at her fingers. "Hmm, that sounded cool when I said that."
"But that means that if we're truly determined, we can reverse this whole situation?" Hermione asked.
"Of course not," Daphne replied evenly.
Hermione felt thoroughly confused. "But you just said—"
"I was lying," Daphne said, looking up at them both.
"Greengrass, stop messing around," Malfoy ordered, sounding irritated. "Get to the point."
"You know, for people who really want to 'reverse this whole situation', as Granger put it, neither one of you sound as if you care," Daphne said. She conjured a bottle of nail polish, and began painting her toenails a bright red.
"Get to the bloody point," Malfoy repeated, gritting his teeth.
"That Pinkle lady sorted it all out," Daphne said.
"Really?" Hermione asked, this time controlling her emotions.
"Absolutely," Daphne said, as she moved onto her next foot. "There was this meeting for the cast today, so Bl-Zabini sort of took me to Pinkle's office. Apparently, she had this huge mirror-like thing, where you just sort of walk through it, and it reverses all the magic that's been done to you over the past week. Pretty nifty, I think."
"Wow," Hermione said.
"Yeah, so seeing that I was asleep and stuff, Zabini sort of carried me through this thing—"
"How sweet," Malfoy said, smirking. Hermione figured it was a private joke, so she didn't interrupt.
Daphne glared at Malfoy. "—But when I got out the other side, I was still the same size, but not sleepy anymore."
"Why didn't you go back to your normal size?" Hermione asked, frowning.
Daphne shook her head. "Honestly, and I thought you were smart."
"I don't even get it, Greengrass, so obviously you're not explaining properly," Malfoy said.
Daphne cocked an eyebrow. "You two have been seriously occupied this past week," she said in a low voice. "Don't you recall that the ball chose the actors and singers last week?" Hermione and Malfoy didn't nod, but Daphne continued. "Well, the day after that day marks exactly a week ago. And since our sizes changed on the day of the choosing, and all the other special effects came after that day, our sizes didn't change."
Hermione's eyes widened as she realized something. She turned to Malfoy to say something at the exact moment he opened his mouth.
"Hermione—"
"Mafoy—"
"Do you know what this means?" they asked together.
"Well, isn't this simply the cutest thing," Daphne commented sarcastically. "What are you two getting at?"
Malfoy turned to face Daphne. "Our effects only started happening the day after we were chosen, which means that if we were to go through that device you just described to us, everything would be reversed."
Hermione had first felt excited, but now she felt something else. She felt strange and cold. Malfoy was evidently happy about the solution to the problem, but ... she didn't think she was. "Daphne," she said, her voice sounding soft, "did Romilda go?"
Daphne looked at her, this time her expression was something close to...warmth. "From what I've heard, no. Sorry, Granger," she added uncomfortably. Hermione heard Malfoy's sharp intake of breath. She turned to face him.
"Now what?" she asked miserably. He merely looked at her, his mouth set in a straight line. "I can't even go back. Do you honestly think Romilda would turn herself in? Especially when she thinks she's so powerful?"
"Hermione..." Malfoy said softly, and Hermione felt something weird pass through her. Her name sounded different coming from him – as if he was speaking in a foreign language. His voice soothed her, and she closed her eyes. She heard the beds creak loudly and she assumed he was crawling across the beds towards her. She opened her eyes when she could smell his naturally calming scent. He was on the next bed.
"I'll go with you," he offered quietly. He hadn't come extremely close to her – Hermione knew he was still dealing with his issues, but he still felt close enough to take comfort in. She looked at him silently, not wanting to say anything. His silvery eyes burned with a rich intensity. They held promises. Promises of what, she didn't know, but at that moment, she knew that he had meant what he had said.
"God, you can sense the sexual tension in this room. Ew," Daphne said, and she raced out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
Hermione looked away from him, feeling uncomfortable. Even though Daphne had unveiled the truth about Hermione's emotions, and even though Hermione had admitted them herself, she still felt uncomfortable.
"Malfoy," she started softly. She was going to clarify herself.
"Hermione," Malfoy whispered. Hermione could feel his gaze on her, so she forced herself to meet it. He was somehow closer to her, but she tried to ignore it. He wasn't helping the situation.
"Yes?"
His eyes turned pleading. "Please...just say my name..."
Hermione stared at him for a few moments, scanning his features. "Why is it so important to you?" she asked.
"It just is," he said quietly.
"Tell me why," she urged.
"Because ... it's like a promise of friendship."
"Friendship," Hermione repeated, and she felt as if a heavy rock had just been dropped into the pit of her stomach. She was willing to accept this feeling of infatuation, because she knew it would pass once the spell of the fairytale was lifted...but why couldn't he?
"You're lying to yourself," she said softly, trying to read his face.
His eyes suddenly hardened. "Why do you say that?"
"Because..."Hermione trailed off, wondering if she was going to regret what she was about to say. She breathed in deeply, tasting his scent, and barrelled on. "Because you feel the same way."
There. It was out there. In the open.
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Draco held his breath, and felt his body go rigid. Why did she say that? Why? He looked away from her, hating the fact that when she looked at him, it felt as if she saw right through him; hating the fact that he relied on the golden flecks to calm him down; hating the fact that she bore her soul in her eyes, even though she tried to cover it up – hating the fact that he liked those unique eyes of hers.
"You can't know that," he decided on saying. The sun was setting outside, and he could see the fiery hue embracing the sky.
"Are you denying it?" she asked, a slight quiver in her voice.
He couldn't believe that she was taking his advice. She was diving into the deep. How could she know that he would be her lifejacket? The problem lay therein, though. She didn't need a lifejacket. She was too brave for her own good.
He looked at her, then. "Do you know what you're saying, Hermione?"
Of course he felt something for her. But that was a friendly feeling, wasn't it? Of course he liked her, just as one friend would like another. The feeling he felt when he was near her was beginning to get addictive. He had to be near her, just because he felt so ... peaceful. Even if she didn't say anything to him, didn't acknowledge him, just one look at her and everything would be alright.
That's why he was glad they were friends. Friendship, given a chance, was marvellous.
"Yes," came her soft reply.
He closed his eyes, even though he was still facing her. "Hermione," he said slowly. "I don't see us anything more than friends."
"Open your eyes," she said quietly.
He didn't want to, afraid of what she might see there, but there was something in her voice that made him.
"You're lying," she stated, a soft smile on her lips. Draco's gaze dropped to her lips, and against his will, he admired the way they curved perfectly into a smile.
"I assure you, I'm not," he insisted.
"Your eyes...for once...I can understand them," she said.
" 'For once?' Hardly," he disagreed. "You understand me better than I would have hoped for."
She remained silent, and Draco briefly wondered whether he had hurt her. Greengrass had told him earlier to test Granger to see if her feelings were genuine or not. But how could he? She only liked him because of the fairytale. Why would she like him otherwise?
Why did he even care if her feelings were genuine or not? Why did he care, full stop?
"Even if you don't see me that way now, Malfoy," she said quietly, "you will begin to."
She sounded almost sad when she said it, and brief irritation coursed through his system. Why did he upset her?
"How do you know that?"
"Because in the fairytale, it's the Prince who falls for Snow White first."
He didn't know how to respond. He didn't know whether he should respond. She wasn't looking at him anymore. He wondered why she was so concerned in the first place. What did it matter if he liked her or didn't? Was it to make herself feel less alone? Or did she genuinely want to know?
"Hermione...I'm not good with emotion...I don't just become infatuated with people."
"Malfoy, I have no idea what you are afraid of. Why don't you ever take your own advice? Why don't you jump into the deep-end yourself?" her soft voice had a challenging note to it that triggered something in Draco.
He sat up suddenly. He wanted to stand, but he couldn't. He looked at her. "I'm not you, Hermione. I can't jump into the deep. I told you that because I know that you're capable of doing it. You have the...the strength to do it. I hate admitting that I have faults, but I know that I have many." He took a deep breath. Her eyes were wide, but other that, she showed no other emotion. "I am emotionally weak, Hermione. I lack the ... courage to get into any type of commitment. The friendship that we share...that was hard for me to get into. I don't want to see it as anything else, because if it is...I would have lost the friendship."
He didn't know what made him say all of that, but he had anyway. She seemed to hesitate at first, but then nodded. "Friendship is the basis of everything, Malfoy," she murmured.
"I know...I've begun to realize that."
"We don't really know what's going to happen after this fairytale spell is lifted. We don't know whether we're still going to behave like this towards each other or not—" Something akin to fear wrapped its claws around Draco. He hadn't thought about it like that. "—I don't know why, but I know that you feel something for me...By now, you must ... Maybe you don't realize it yet." She shook her head slightly. "I want this to be over, Malfoy, as much as you do, but honestly? I don't know what's going to happen after."
Draco regarded her for a second. He took in a deep breath. "What do you want?"
She looked up at him, and her lips twitched. "I don't know." She looked down again. Draco had never in his life seen her look so defeated.
The brutal honesty of her words threw him. He was expecting a more decisive answer, something that he could follow. But her answer left him in a puzzled position. Were they friends? Was there just one way to prove it? He thought that if he had to follow that way it would be too clichéd, too book-like, too unrealistic. But right now, he was living a fairytale, so anything could be real, right? He thought of Blaise, and what he would do if he was in Draco's situation. Draco nodded, fixing his resolve, and tensing his muscles. Blaise would do the same thing.
He leaned forward, taking extra care to breathe properly and force the rigidity away from his body. "Hermione," he said in a perfectly normal voice.
She looked up then, surprised that he was no longer whispering. She raised her eyebrows, and Draco surmised that she was further surprised that he had willingly moved himself closer to her.
"What?" she asked, a hint of boldness in her voice.
"I'm going to prove that we're just friends," Draco said seriously, still leaning in.
Comprehension dawned upon her, and he watched her slowly shake her head. "Malfoy, there are other ways..." she said in a soft gasp.
"Show them to me," he said, pausing a few inches away from her.
Her eyes darted all over the place, as she battled to find an answer. Worry flickered across her features as she realized that she had no answer. She moved backwards, so that she was right up against the headboard. She looked at him, her eyes beseeching. "I'm not a toy...an experiment, Malfoy," she said quietly.
That made him draw away from her. He looked at her seriously. "I don't... I can't look at you that way, Hermione." She didn't say anything. "I'm doing this for the both of us."
She closed her eyes, sighing. Draco waited patiently. A few seconds later, she opened them. Licking her lips, she said, "...Fine."
Fine? Just 'fine'? Was she doing this against her will? He looked away from her, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Even if he wasn't...after this fairytale, her feelings for him would have disappeared, and she wouldn't even feel hurt. How did he feel about this? He returned his gaze back towards her.
Draco placed his hands on her bed, pulling himself forward. It was impossible for them both to be on the same bed simultaneously, so he stretched across from his side, so that he was a few inches away from her face. His body's weight rested on his hands and knees, and he moved forward again.
"I'm going to kiss you now, Hermione," he murmured, desperately reaching into the depths of her eyes for permission. He was so close he could see the pupils of her eyes dilate...that was permission enough. He took a deep, calming breath, noticing that his body was no more rigid. He leaned his forehead against hers, and closed his eyes. He knew how to kiss...he just didn't know how to kiss Hermione.
His heart rate had picked up, and he could feel the blood rushing to Hermione's face, to the place where their foreheads met. He clenched the duvet tightly, and opened his eyes at the same time. He drew his head away from hers slightly, angling his head. Her eyes were still open, but Draco couldn't look at them.
"You're concentrating too much. Just jump," she whispered, and Draco almost toppled over as he felt the warmth of her breath caress his lips. He couldn't stop himself. He closed his eyes, imagining hers, and placed a soft kiss on her lips. He drew away quickly, as the pounding of his heart became too unbearable. He couldn't do it. He couldn't kiss her. He was afraid.
"Hmm," was the sound she let out, sounding thoughtful.
Draco looked at her. "Meaning?" he murmured.
"I...thought I'd feel something..." she trailed off, and closed her eyes.
This was outrageous! What did all of this even mean? She was the one who said that, yes, she was infatuated with him. He was the one who said that, no, they were just friends. Yet, she felt nothing for him during that – even though it wasn't a serious one – kiss, and he did! He was starting to get angry.
"You're telling me that you didn't feel anything?" he asked, trying to keep his tone level.
"No..." she said, her eyes still closed.
Draco narrowed his eyes. "And you're happy about that?"
She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. He clenched his jaw. "I'll show you happiness," he promised.
He let himself drop from the position he was in, at the same time grasping the sides of her face, so that now they were lying next to each other. Her eyes shot open, and she gasped. "What the hell—"
He pulled her face towards his, none too gently, and brought his lips to meet his. He didn't concentrate; he didn't even think. He kissed her with such passion that he felt as if he could explode. He threw everything into that kiss: his anger, his frustration, his confusion. He slowly began to realize that she wasn't really responding. He opened his eyes – when had he even closed them? – and met her chocolate-y orbs. He stared at her intensely, forgetting about the kiss. As the violence of the kiss slowly faded, replaced with his sadness and longing, he looked away.
And then she responded.
When he looked back, her eyes were closed, but Merlin, was she responding! She melted away the sadness and bitter-sweetness of the kiss, and kissed him. He suppressed the urge to moan – the pain of his heart hammering against his chest threw him. He ran his hand threw her soft, soft hair, and fisted it around a bunch of curls, badly trying to not hurt her. He felt the blood race through his body, planting footprints of fire behind. This was not anything like magic. Far from it.
It was on a different level of its own. He felt alive.
He felt her tongue slide across his lower lip, and he immediately withdrew. He felt too confused at the clash of pain and excitement. Too confused. He stared at her; her eyes were wide open, staring at him accusingly, as if he'd done something wrong.
He had. He shouldn't have even tested their friendship. She was right – there were probably other ways of doing it, yet why did he have to kiss her?
Because, deep down, it was what he wanted. An excuse to secure a magical connection. An excuse to feel an adrenaline rush.
An excuse to prove himself wrong. Her bold red lips were swollen from the violence of their kiss, and Draco was both disheartened and glad that he hadn't furthered the kiss. It would've resulted in his undoing.
No. He had been a fool all along. Friends definitely didn't think of each other in the way he thought of her! Of course not!
Draco felt as if his whole body had melted, leaving behind his beating heart. He moved quickly away from Hermione, hating the fact that her eyes tightened in chagrin. She probably thought it was her fault. That she had forced him into it.
He got up from the beds, glancing over his shoulder at her. "I must go," he muttered, trying to keep his emotions at bay.
Bent, he strode towards the door. Just before he exited, he thought he heard her murmur, "Draco..."
--------------------------------------------------------to be continued--------------------------------------------------------
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