"Granger," Malfoy asks, his voice coming from between his teeth. "What the fuck are you doing?"
I am in the freeze version of fight, flight, or freeze, I think.
"I..." I pause, waiting for the rest of my words to follow. "I needed to see if you were ill."
Well, that's a version of the truth, I suppose. What else could inspire his selflessness?
"I'm impressed, actually," he says slowly. "I recognized what you were doing, but was not able to counteract it. Your spell was very well done."
His voice, low, rumbling, and deathly calm, scares me more than the fact that we are alone, in the dormitory, and he is incredibly angry.
"Thank you," I whisper, counting the few pale freckles that I notice spatter his cheeks instead of moving, or saying anything else.
"Am I ill?" he asks.
"Excuse me?" I say, and immediately realize that I've only made the situation worse.
"Am I ill?" he asks again, and I swallow thickly, hating the way that the words have dried up in the back of my mouth.
"No," I say. "I thought perhaps you had a fever, with some of your behavior recently."
"And so... you conducted a memory charm, instead of a medical charm?" Malfoy asks, his jaw ticking and voice becoming harder. "Aren't you the brightest witch of our age, Granger?"
Shit, shit, shit.
I try to think of a quick way to get my way out of this one, but sometimes, common sense isn't my strong suit. My mother always used to remind me of that fact when I would do something silly as a child.
"I thought it would be more efficient," I say, keeping my voice confident.
"More efficient?" he repeats.
In a second, he has swung out of the bed, grabbed my elbow, and brought me up to face him.
"Malfoy," I say, "I was doing what I thought was best."
"And that was?"
"To see what the matter was with you, that's all. I only wanted to help, and honestly, I'm not sorry. I would rather invade your privacy and attempt to solve whatever your issue is than allow you to go on that way."
"What did you see?" he asks, his features even sharper in the moonlight.
"Just some things between you and I," I say, my voice small. "Nothing of any value."
"Nothing of any value?" he whispers, and scoffs. It seems like he is talking more to himself than anything else.
"Yes," I say.
He leans down.
I hold my breath.
Malfoy's cool breath is upon my face.
His lips graze mine. I don't move, for fear, and confusion.
"Hermione," he says, and the use of my first name startles me, but not enough to falter my position. I hold my ground.
"You do not decide what is of value or not," he whispers. I feel his lips against my lips, I feel his nose against mine. A piece of his hair has flopped down and tickles my forehead. His hand is lighter on my elbow now.
Malfoy's manner goes back to normal, then. He pulls away, dropping my arm, and steps back.
Pointing at me, he says, angrily, "If you ever, and I mean ever do Legilimency on me again, I will kill you."
I look up at him, taking in the previous moment, and the contrast of this one.
He repeats himself. "I will fucking kill you. Believe me."
"I believe you," I whisper. I pause. "Goodnight, Malfoy."
I turn, and leave.