A/N: The first chapter of the new year. Thank you for the continued support. It drives me.
Chapter 5
After leaving Draco at the grand entrance, Hermione made for Gryffindor tower to get ready for bed, grumbling in annoyance the whole trip up the moving staircases, and even until she'd stripped, redressed in her night clothes, and lay in bed… Only to have sleep elude her for many hours.
All of this was due to a couple of Draco-related reasons. One was more obvious: He had come back to finish his schooling for the entire term?! Hermione was beside herself with woe. She had not been expecting that. For some reason or another, she'd assumed she'd seen the last of Draco Malfoy for a while once she'd left the courtroom after giving her testimony. The idea of a Malfoy family free life had been one of the few joys she had to look forward to.
The other reason- the not so obvious reason- was the way that he looked at her.
The witch rolled over with a frustrated sigh, and tried to close her eyes to block out the memory of how he'd looked in the carriage, but it was as if her attempt to dull the literal sense strengthened the inner one, causing the image to become more vivid; so stark in her memory it was if she could reach out and touch him. She'd never noticed his eyes were as vibrant and grey as they were until they shown in the candlelight. She didn't know they could hit her the way they had, and pause her in her tracks; how he'd managed to spend not even a minute looking at her face, and how that miniscule act could keep her up all night was beyond her.
Yes. The lack of sleep was definitely Draco's fault.
'Why would he even care to do that?' she asked herself, in regards to his long, piercing stare. Why would he look at her for so long without a scowl, and instead with the face of a human being? It was more haunting, more shocking, more powerful than every other one of his expressions. Far more so than any he'd ever cast in her direction before that moment.
She couldn't remember a scowl that was stronger, a look of fear more intense, or a jeer that meant more, and she wondered- oh, how she wondered- why his looking at her was something that could undo her.
It was strange, and she thought on it until the witching hour, before exhaustion had pulled her into sleep, her last thought being that she'd wished he'd been sent to Tenarcha- the new prison- with his parents.
Even if, in her heart of hearts, she didn't really mean it.
In the morning, she rose to the bright grey of a snow storm outside. She'd slept in late, past nine, but got up to shower and ready herself for the day either way.
While in the shower, she wondered if she should take another walk to Hogsmeade that day, but decided she'd watch the storm and decide later, even if she was sure she'd at least walk about the grounds. Perhaps visit the Black Lake, or see the sights inside the Forbidden Forest. She wondered if the snow had penetrated the thick canopy of trees and hit the ground, or if it was just frozen hard dirt underneath evergreens.
After packing her bag with blank parchment, ink, and fresh quills, all while still wrapped in her towel, Hermione then moved to get dressed. She donned black under things, including socks, a pair of blue jeans, a burgundy turtleneck jumper and her burgundy snow boots. She then threw on her faux-fur lined cloak, tossed her bag onto her shoulder, and made her way out of the tower. Down, down, down many flights of stairs, and an empty stomach, found the wise young witch at the kitchen portrait, where she tickled the pear to be allowed entrance into the large space beyond.
The elves were long gone, but the evidence of their earlier work was left on the table near the door, as per usual. Two charmed-warm plates sat in wait, instead of just the usual one she'd become used to over the past week and a half. She knew the other had to be Draco's.
It was funny. For a moment, the witch had had the delusion she'd be able to go through the rest of her break without seeing a sign of him. But, alas…
She figured she should stop doing that, assuming she wouldn't see him, but she still found as much comfort as possible in knowing that, since the second plate was still there, he was at least in Slytherin, and she'd luckily missed another run-in with him for the time being.
With a little groan of disappointment at being reminded of his existence, the witch grabbed one of the plates and quit the kitchens, now intent on making it to the library for a few solid hours of studying before taking her daily walk.
By the time she was halfway to the library, she opened the cover on her plate and downed two pieces of bacon and a triangle of her toast, her stomach feeling well enough thereafter for her to start humming some Bowie. She finished her toast and was working on another piece of bacon as she walked into the open double doors of the library, and made her way around the outer wall towards the section she'd had her mind's eye on since she'd awoken.
Rounding the corner to one of the long rows of shelves, she met her old friend surprise, for there he stood, her old, yet newly manifested, bane of existence.
Draco occupied the exact same section she had set her intentions, and Hermione had to catch her plate as it almost slipped from her grasp. She also quelled an odd urge to growl at him. She all but failed miserably at that last bit as she said in a lower than usual tone, "Malfoy. What are you doing here?"
He turned to look at her as if her sudden appearance surprised him nil- which was probably the case considering everyone in the wizarding world knew Hermione's favorite pastime- and his face held some semblance of civility as he answered easily, "I'm getting a head start on the advanced Charms course I'm taking next term." He closed the book in his hands and leaned a shoulder against the shelf, adding, "I told you just last night that I'm here early to study."
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