The week had gone by in a blur. Prefects' meetings filled with more auction planning, talks of cracking down on 7th floor post-curfew make out sessions and the like had taken over the week. Draco had barely slept, and when he could find a couple of hours of rest, his dreams were plagued with his living nightmare. He wouldn't even wake from these dreams, because despite Hermione being his nightmare, the dreams themselves had actually been quite pleasant. The boy had even woken one morning with tented boxers after one dream went too far. Draco had reluctantly wanked to the thought of his arch-nemesis riding his cock and found that he hadn't been as repulsed as he'd once thought. Despite this, he couldn't wait for Blaise's dare to be over and done with so the confusion could end.
When Draco woke up Friday morning, things hadn't been much better. Seeing as he shared a dorm with Theo, Blaise and Crabbe, he'd been jostled awake by an overly eager Blaise Zabini who was stressed about how to style his hair for the day.
"We have potions with Gryffindor and the auction is tonight!" he'd said, "I need to look my best."
"And it didn't occur to you that letting me sleep for at least another thirty minutes wouldn't have changed the outcome on how much gel is going into your hair?" Draco had sleepily groaned.
"Someone is sour this morning," Theo quipped from his canopy bed across the room.
Draco didn't reply to this. He simply got up from his bed and made his way to the showers. The past week had been full of Hermione-based jealousy innuendo, and he was fed up. How could his peers possibly think that he would be jealous of Blaise going for a Hogsmeade lunch with the blasted girl? If Draco had wanted to go out or be with her, he would have done it years ago—Merlin only knew the opportunity had presented itself in abundance. Sure, Draco had thought about her more frequently in the last couple of days than ever before, but he attributed that to his friend's relentlessness in bringing her up during conversations. The stupid dare had been at the forefront of nearly everyone's mind all week, and it had been difficult not to look at the Gryffindor girl when they'd spoken about her in the Great Hall or during class. She had gotten prettier, he'd admitted to himself, and even the way she'd carried herself had changed. Still, her blood was filthy, and the girl had been a pain in his arse ever since he'd stepped foot into Hogwarts.
Worse than this, however, had been how much the knowledge of Hermione apparently being a good kisser and practically propositioning Blaise in front of everyone had affected him. Ever since then, Draco couldn't help but visualize his friend and Hermione kissing and it made him hot. Hot with what, he couldn't exactly pinpoint, but it bothered him. The girl had even talked about how her lips were meant for kissing and he couldn't help but think about if she'd been right. The thought of potentially wanting to find out had shaken Draco to his very core, and he just wanted everything to be over and done with.
After showering, Draco quickly dressed himself and dreadfully made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. He already knew what his mates would be discussing, and the boy honestly couldn't take much more of it. Couldn't they talk about something else? Perhaps quidditch? Or even Arithmancy? At this point he was so desperate for any other topic of discussion that he would settle for talking about schoolwork.
As he entered the Hall, Draco scanned the room and his eyes landed on the girl he'd been trying to avoid all his life. She was sitting with the Weaselette, and they seemed to be joking about something. Draco couldn't hear their conversation, but he watched as Hermione smiled at her friend and began laughing. It was weird seeing her so carefree and un-swot like, almost a pleasant sight to behold. He wondered why he'd never remembered her smile, and then realized that most of their interactions consisted of him hurling insults and blasphemy in an attempt to hurt her feelings.
Snapped out of his reverie by the shrill sound of Pansy's voice calling him, Draco turned his gaze to where the Slytherins always sat and made his way over to them. No one had been looking at him, and he was grateful to Pansy for not saying anything because by the look on her face, she'd obviously noticed what he'd been doing. As he sat down his suspicion was confirmed when she raised her eyebrow and mouthed 'are you ok?'. He nodded in return, annoyed that his fake girlfriend felt some sort of pity for him. It was unfounded, and he just wanted to tell Pansy to mind her business.
"Ah, Draco," Blaise had said upon realizing that the boy had joined the table, "what do you think?"
"About?"
"My coiffe, obviously," Blaise had rolled his eyes, as though it were obvious.
"I tried to tell him it looks the same as usual," Daphne smirked, "but he insists that he did something different."
"I still can't believe how much you care about impressing the mud blood," Crabbe sneered, "you could look like Goyle here and the girl would probably still go out with you."
"Clearly that's not true, seeing as she's been in love with Draco since the age of 11," Pansy commented.
"Exactly," Blaise agreed, "Draco is a good-looking bloke, I have high standards to compete with."
Draco sniggered, "Fortunately for you Zabini, you have nothing to compete with seeing as I've never cared for the girl, and the ship has sailed on her end as well."
Blaise grinned, "Noted. What about my hair?"
"Lucius would approve," Draco stifled a grin, "you're the embodiment of an Italian Stallion."
"That's exactly what I was going for!"
"You're a right wanker Zabini," said Crabbe while stifling his own grin at Draco's sarcasm.
"A right wanker," the Italian began as he rose from his seat, "who is going to walk the Gryffindor princess to potions and spend the rest of the morning ensuring her attendance in the dungeons tonight."
With that, Blaise made his leave and the rest of the Slytherin group simply watched as he met Granger on her way out of the Great Hall. She'd left her hair natural today, going for a much more subtle makeup look and had also rolled her skirt ever so slightly. Draco was so fixated on the hem of said skirt that he'd barely noticed the girl send Blaise one of her rare smiles that he'd been thinking about earlier. But he'd still noticed, and the idea of her enjoying his company made him feel hot again.
"Well, we should probably get going too."
He looked at Pansy, who'd been the one to break the silence. She seemed bored, but the look in her eyes said otherwise. All week, she'd been giving him these looks and suggesting that he'd somehow been hiding something from her. Draco had denied the allegations and had been growing more and more annoyed with her meddling. He knew that her intentions hadn't been malicious, but the boy didn't feel like he was actually hiding anything from her. Aside from the invasive thoughts about Granger, nothing in his life had changed—nor would it.
"Walk with me?" Blaise Zabini had demanded, as Hermione made her way to potions from the Great Hall.
She'd agreed, mentally telling herself that she needed to keep up the appearance that she'd been unaffected by his sudden interest in her. After their flirtation on Monday, Blaise hadn't really spoken to her outside of class but his looks and winks throughout the week had been suggestive enough. He had walked her to every class they'd had together, and Hermione had begun to appreciate the curtesy and attention. The dark-featured boy had never ceased to compliment her, ask her questions about her day or classes and always kept her engaged in conversation. The girl had never expected to genuinely enjoy his company, but she was finding herself growing more and more attached. Not obsessed or enamoured, how she'd been with Draco but simply happy to flirt and converse with someone outside of her usual circle.
Blaise made her feel important and seemed to enjoy listening to her ramblings. He also never made rude comments and made her feel beautiful. She knew this all had to do with her previously shattered ego, but why couldn't she enjoy being around someone who made her feel all these things? No one had ever made it a point to make her smile or blush or simply make her feel like a girl who deserved to be seen. The last time she'd felt this way had been two years ago at the Yule ball, and that had only been one night with a complete stranger—this meant more to her. The best friend of the boy she'd been unrequitedly in love with was now following her around like he was Pepe Le Pew, and she was Penelope Pussycat. It felt good.
"So," he'd said on their way to class, "can I expect you tonight?"
Tonight. The auction, the Slytherin party. The Slytherin party he'd invited her to… invited her to prove how much of a good kisser she was. Hermione swallowed at the thought. Truthfully, the girl had been consciously and subconsciously thinking about the Slytherin party from the moment he'd invited her to it. At first, she was going to pretend as though she was really considering it, and then simply not go. But, as the week progressed and she was becoming increasingly unsure whether Blaise was even pranking her, Hermione had changed her mind. The only thing that had been holding her back was the thought of being alone in a den full of snakes, so she'd come up with a plan at breakfast with Ginny.
Surprisingly, Ginny had not been able to find a suitable candidate for her plan to make Harry jealous and her time was running out. After Hermione had confided to her red-headed friend about her interactions with Blaise and his proposition for tonight, they'd both concluded that attending the party together would be perfect, as it would kill two birds with one stone.
"He's obviously going to agree to me being your plus one," the girl had confidently said, "I'm a girl, I'm fit, and bringing me is the only way you'll agree to go—he wants you there, he'll agree 'Mione."
Hermione had laughed at this and had agreed to try asking. She just didn't want to impose…
"On one condition," Hermione had said as they rounded the corner to the Potions classroom, "I can bring a friend."
"I assume it's not Potter or Weasley, as you mentioned only one friend."
"No," she replied, "Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister. She's my close friend, and I'd rather not enter a dungeon full of Purebloods who hate me without an ally."
"Yes, I know who she is. You can bring her if it means you'll be there," he smiled.
She returned the smile, feeling relief flood through her. "Thank you, in that case count us both in."
"Excellent," Blaise grinned, and they both made their way to their worktable. Their worktable, Hermione nearly laughed at the idea. Never in a million years would she have guessed that she'd be feeling giddy because of Blaise Zabini's kindness, or the fact that they shared a worktable.
"By the way," he said with absolute sincerity, "you would have had an ally regardless of your friend coming," and he touched her hand to emphasize his point.
This made her blush profusely. Hermione couldn't help the butterflies that immediately formed in her stomach and she found herself at a loss for words. Blaise was truly exceeding all her expectations—they hadn't been that high to begin with, but she knew anyone would be feeling the same way had they been spoken to as she had.
"Thank you," she'd finally let out, "that means a lot to me."
She figured if he was going to be slightly vulnerable, then so would she. As much as playing games was fun, Hermione didn't know if this even was a game anymore. Blaise was being too sincere for her liking, and it dawned on her that if it was all a prank, she would be crushed. Not because she was in love with him or even liked him for that matter—because for once in her life, she couldn't tell. One thing she was certain of, however, was that he was a good person and Hermione really wanted to be his friend.
The moment was the ruined by the heavy stomping coming from two figures that had just walked by their worktable. Hermione didn't have to turn her head to know who the two tossers had been, she knew what her friends' footsteps sounded like. She had tried explaining her situation to her best friends (excluding the flirting and party invite), but they refused to listen. Harry had called her a traitor, and Ron had told her she was mad for thinking a Slytherin could ever want to be friends. Thus, Hermione had only really confided in Ginny about everything, and the girl seemed too interested in the happenings of Slytherin house to even be judgmental. Hermione was grateful for it, as she refused to let Ron and Harry dictate who she could be friends with, and act as prejudiced as the very people they were bashing.
Immediately following the two dolts' entrance, Pansy and Draco had entered the room and Hermione instinctively removed her hand from Blaise's grasp. She internally scolded herself for it but played it off by reaching for her textbook in her bag. Thankfully, Blaise didn't seem bothered at all. He had been greeting his friends instead.
"Pans, Draco," Blaise had grinned, "fine morning, isn't it?"
"The finest," Pansy replied.
Blaise looked over at Hermione, and then reverted his gaze to his friends, "Hermione here has agreed to come tonight, so a very fine morning indeed."
The two Slytherins said nothing at this, but Draco shifted his gaze to Hermione, and she didn't know what to do. She was expecting him to say something incredibly mean—even though he hadn't said a word to her all week, old habits die hard. She had been met with dilated grey orbs instead, and she suddenly felt weak. His eyes were hypnotizing, and despite her efforts to forget them, she couldn't. Especially when he was looking at her in the same manner that she'd used to look at him—like someone you're trying to figure out. A puzzle of sorts. Hermione refused to look away, despite the effect it was having on her heart rate.
"See you guys later then," Pansy interrupted, to relieve the apparent tension their staring contest had created. She then motioned Draco to walk away from the worktable and the two made their way to the back.
"That was…intense," Blaise said knowingly.
"I don't know what that was," Hermione sighed, "I was so sure he was going to say something cruel."
Draco kicked himself for the display he had just made with Hermione in front of everyone. He didn't know what came over him, but it was like he was possessed. Perhaps it was the way she'd been looking at him and Pansy, or the unfamiliar lack of interest she'd shown when they'd walked into the class. Maybe it was the idea of seeing her at a party in the Slytherin dungeon… or maybe it was the way she and Blaise had been holding hands that had set him off. Regardless, his eyes had wandered and fixed themselves on her amber coloured eyes. Hermione had instantly met his gaze and seemed just as transfixed as he had been. The whole time they'd had their staring match, Draco had been thinking of any words he could come up with to hurt her feelings or mock her and Blaise's "relationship", but he hadn't been able to come up with anything. Not a single damn thing. The blasted girl had left him speechless, staring into her gold-flecked depths.
As he sat through potions Draco watched as his friend talked to her, made her laugh and touched her in the most subtle ways possible. All the while, the boy kept wondering why the fuck he cared. He needed to stop caring, he needed to distract himself and above all—Blaise needed to stop caressing her back with his thumb. It was driving Draco up the wall, as he became hot once more and his heart began to race. Pansy instinctively placed her palm on his leg as a way to sooth him, but it only made things worse. He didn't want to be touched, he wanted to get the fuck out of the classroom.
"Draco," Pansy whispered, "relax."
He whirled on her and whisper-shouted back, "Relax? What the fuck are you on about?"
The girl grabbed one of his balled fists and opened it up, revealing bloody imprints of where his nails had dug into the skin.
"How did you—"
"I know you," Pansy said, "more than you realize."
Draco released his hand from hers and sighed. His anger had immediately resided, and annoyance had returned to its rightful place.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Because you don't want to admit it to me," she replied, "or because you don't want to admit it to yourself?"
Please review!