Her Broken-Hearted Veela
Chapter XIV: Fifteen Minutes
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"I'm oxygen, and he's dying to breathe."
…
Hogwarts' halls were advantageous. They were like endless labyrinths, where one could easily loose themselves in, getting away from the multitudes and entering the peaceful corridors of anonymity. Having upped her pace considerably, and after taking some turns to the left and some to the right, it was as though Hermione had vanished into thin air. The Gryffindor Princess let a sigh of relief at the realisation that no-one would catch her talking with Slytherin's Prince.
The time of their meeting had come. She arrived first.
For the sake of privacy, Hermione placed a silencing charm around them. The spot was rather hidden from the rest of the corridors, yes, but she abided by her 'better safe than sorry' philosophy, which had saved her many times before.
Double-checking that no-one else was around, Granger saw Malfoy in the near distance. The blonde walked calmly, his tall figure leisurely approaching her, never losing his gaze on her. Hands in his pockets, head slightly tilted to the side, a tiny smirk drawn on his handsome face. A spark of amusement was to be seen in his grey eyes, apparently entertained by how secretive she was about their little meeting. She was irritated by how relaxed and poised he handled himself, and by how finicky she looked in comparison to him.
Finally, he arrived and greeted her, "Hello again, Granger."
Let's get this over with.
"Fifteen minutes." She hissed.
"Ah, I knew I'd forgotten something!" He chuckled, "It's funny how I keep insisting on the Valerian Tea to ease your nerves, and yet I keep forgetting about it."
"Say what you will, but the clock's ticking."
"All right, all right. Fifteen minutes isn't enough time to tease you, anyway…"
Hermione rubbed her temples in frustration, "Just get to the sodding point, Malfoy."
"Very well, then. You owe me a kiss."
"Ugh." Hermione rolled her eyes, "Will you please explain to me how you've come to the bizarre idea that I owe you a kiss?"
He simply shrugged, "If I recall correctly, you told me that you'd had enough and asked me to kiss you, which I did. Ergo, you owe me a kiss."
"What do you even expect me to say to that?" She asked him, exasperated, disbelief clearly heard in her voice, "You put it as if it were all that simple."
Draco knew it was all but simple. He empathised with her completely. The deep, corrosive sadness within her. The desperation. The loneliness. The Veela felt it all with her, and it stung. It pierced through his heart like a thousand daggers drenched in venom. It broke him, even more so than it broke her. However, he needed to still keep his identity hidden from her, the time was not yet ripe to let her in to his heritage. He needed to keep earning her trust, slowly but surely, luring her in along the way.
"I know it's not that simple. You were…" desperate, "quite angry. Enraged, even. I'm not blind, I saw that."
"This is unbelievable." She huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose and placing one of her hands on her hip, "So, you know that I carried that much of a burden, and you're still telling me that I owe you anything at all? Do you hear yourself when you talk?"
"I hear myself just fine, thank you very much. But you see, being as furious as you were, I also saw that you were looking for retaliation. Which you got. And mind you, you got it from me. So, don't act all dignified and righteous when you know perfectly well that what you asked from me was meant as an act of vengeance."
"Vengeance is not a form of currency, Malfoy. It's not galleons. I don't 'owe' you a vindictive kiss simply because you gave me one when I asked you."
"Ah, 'not a form of currency'. Interesting choice of words. How would you feel about me re-phrasing it to 'a means to an end'?"
Hermione frowned. She had a bad feeling about the direction their conversation was taking. One not particularly favourable for her. However, she gave him a small, reluctant nod, daring him to continue, cautiously side-eyeing him.
"Funny, it looks like you don't like it." The Slytherin smirked, "I, however, find it fits its purpose. Namely because I was your means to an end – To the end of taking revenge on Weasley."
She looked away, feeling ashamed, "I hadn't thought about revenge until you mentioned it. It wouldn't have occurred to me otherwise."
"But you considered it and you acted upon it, so don't you dare put all of the blame on me, Granger. You whispered those words," And I fell hard for them, "and I kissed you. Like you wanted."
"I know that. But when I asked you to kiss me, I was angry and not in my right mind. All things considered, it's not really fair of you to demand a kiss from me in return, don't you think?"
"Fairness?" He scoffed, "My, Granger, why am I not surprised that you would use such a word to describe a situation in which you, of all people, were unfair?"
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, you heard me. It's seems to me you're very much interested in playing the victim: 'I wasn't thinking straight, I was upset!' Listen,you've got every right to be upset. The Weasel is an absolute dirtbag for what he's done to you. He was unfair to you. And you were unfair to him by kissing me. Quid pro quo. Well played, Granger, I'm impressed." He applauded. "However, you were unfair to me, as well. You say you were not in your right mind, but how would you know whether or not I was in my right mind when you asked me to kiss you?"
Fair point.
Hermione let out an inaudible gasp. Her jaw dropped ever so slightly, as she stood there, dumbfounded, not knowing what to say. Her mind was incredibly busy trying to process all of the things Draco was telling her, as she had not –not even for one second–, acknowledged his state of mind. He'd been as involved in their kiss as she had, and yet, she had only taken her own emotions into consideration, completely overshadowing his. – Of course, she'd never thought he'd care as much as he seemingly did.
A tiny voice inside her head told her she should be feeling, at the very least, offended that he'd insinuated that he had been out of his mind when he kissed her. She should be feeling insulted! Insulted, because he probably meant that, in order for him to kiss a Mudblood, he had to have lost his sanity momentarily, otherwise, he wouldn't have been compliant to her wishes. – However, there was something in his voice, something very close to sincerity, that managed to convince her otherwise – to convince her that his reasons were of another nature entirely –, leading her to opt to dispose of the icky voice her mind had fabricated.
Seeing she was pondering over what he said, Draco took her silence as an opportunity to end his monologue with one single question, "How is it not fair for me to ask you for a kiss, when it was equally unfair of you to ask me for one?"
To the Veela, it had been so cruelly unfair to get such a short, delicious taste of her, whilst leaving him in the insane, tortuous uncertainty of when she would be so gracious to let him kiss her again. It had been so dreadfully unfair to taste her godly lips, to feel her raw emotion, as her hands had roamed all over his torso and neck, as her fingers had been tangled in his velvety hair; and to never know if that had been the last time it ever happened. It was so mercilessly unfair that she didn't fathom just how much power she held over him, and how unforgivingly unfair it was that he willingly, lovingly, gave it all to her and couldn't yet let her in to his truth: That he loved her unconditionally. Desired her maddingly. – It had been oh so very unfair when she asked him to kiss her, and he had been completely unable to deny her, or to deny himself.
It was downright cruel. – It was so cruel that she didn't know any of it, yet again, cruelty had so very many faces…
When she was about to look away, Draco grabbed her chin delicately, gently forcing her to look at him, as his mercury gaze bored into her caramel stare. She felt hypnotised, as though she had immersed herself into the far depths of a dream. If only for a moment, it felt like everything around them slowed down. Time stood still.
"Will you please answer me?" The Veela asked in a soft whisper, careful not to break the spell, "Do you think it's fair?"
If she was being honest with herself, the brunette had never truly thought about how the blonde had felt after their encounter. Yes, she'd been preoccupied with him probably wanting something in return, and she'd been partly right. Only partly, however. – Yes, Draco wanted her kiss in return. But no, he wasn't directly using it against her, as she had been fearing all along. He wasn't threatening her with telling everyone, nor was he ridiculing her. It seemed very genuine when he asked her about fairness, and there was truth to what he'd said: Hermione had indeed been unfair to Malfoy when she utterly disregarded his state of mind and asked him for something as intimate as a kiss, not stopping to think whether or not she was crossing a boundary.
Who would have thought that, after all these years, Hermione would've acted unfairly towards Draco with a kiss, no less?
Her honeyed gaze never left his as she gave her truthful answer, "No."
Giving her a little smile, Draco's hand travelled up to her cheek, cupping it, his thumb caressing the soft skin with tender strokes. She couldn't step away, nor did she want to, as she was captivated by the incandescent gleam of his stare, and how it made her feel. How he made her feel. She felt confused, and at the same time, an inexplicably comforting warmth graced her chest. It felt so right, it felt as though it was meant to be.
But why?
"Tell me the truth, Hermione. Did you enjoy our kiss?" His voice was silken, he put her under his spell, never breaking it.
She blushed, "Yes."
"Do you think about it often?"
A shade of crimson red decorated her cheeks. Oh, if she only knew how adorable she looked, "Yes."
"Do you regret it?"
She bit her lower lip and took a deep breath, shaking her head almost unnoticeably, "…No."
"Did you kiss me because you wanted to hurt Weasley?"
That question took her entirely by surprise, but she didn't back up from the challenge, "I… I honestly don't know."
"I think you did. When I asked you if you'd kiss me to get back at him, you said you had enough." He kept caressing her cheek, and the protectiveness of the Veela peeked through, "What does enough mean to you?"
She felt his need to know what 'enough' meant to her; she inexplicably felt his need for her to explain to him how she truly felt.
"Enough means I've reached my limit." She started, a hint of exhaustion heard in her voice, "My limit of tolerating the excuses of others and not truly giving them a piece of my mind, for the sake of not being left completely alone. It means that I have reached new levels of nonsense, and that my capacity for understanding the utter idiocy surrounding me is saturated. It means I'm done."
The Slytherin knew she had left out names and places on purpose, but she had managed to define what 'enough' meant to her without giving him the details and without avoiding the truth, so he could not object to that. Still, he knew it would be a matter of time until she opened up to him and told him the entire story. He was certain that, when the time came, he would be able to hold her in his tight embrace and protect her.
"You wanted to hurt him, didn't you?" The blonde asked rhetorically, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. She let him, still bewitched by his gentle stare, "He deserved it, didn't he?"
Hermione's gaze widened, a mixture of shock, surprise and honest confusion written all over her beautiful features. How could he possibly know that had been exactly what she'd been thinking the other day?
As if reading her mind, he gave her a little smile, twirling one last curl between his long fingers and tucking his hand away in his pocket, "I told you, I'm very observant."
The Golden Girl couldn't help but smile back at him, if ever so slightly. Draco's presence had been quite remarkable the last couple of weeks, and during that time, they'd had their fair amount of shared conversations. His remark about him being observant, she recalled, was from where he'd stopped her near Slughorn's office, after his disastrous dinner party. – The very same evening where he'd been able to lighten up her mood after she'd felt so uncomfortable, admitting to her that all he'd wanted to do was to listen to her.
It was not lost on her that he had been beyond attentive to her, and how he'd once told her she distracted him. He was radically different towards her, compared to how he'd treated her in the past. He said things that became imprinted in her mind, created moments between them that she could not get out of her head.
What truly stood out to her was how she had felt during those moments.
Draco was putting in the effort to mend their past, and, little by little, he was reaching his goal. It felt like, against all odds, he was there for her: Hermione felt guarded when he was near her. Sheltered.
Safe.
What was he doing to her?
Hermione had so many questions she needed answers to. She caught herself regretting that she didn't choose another time to meet him, so that she would have enough time for her queries, seeing that they only had two minutes left, and Ancient Runes was calling her name. Fifteen minutes had proven to be a short time, indeed.
A strong sense of urgency rushed through her, and she felt compelled to ask the most basic things. Things, she knew, she would get a strange wave of satisfaction out of, but, at the same time, things that were not as imperative to her curiosity. They itched her, and although they were not crucial, she was impatient to know. She would simply repeat the same questions he'd asked her, just to see if his answers were going to be the same as hers.
An itch. That's all it was.
She definitely wasn't hoping for their answers to be the same. – She definitely wasn't hoping he reciprocated any of what she'd felt during their kiss.
She took the chance, "Did you enjoy our kiss?"
His answer radiated confidence, "I did." - 'I cherished every moment of it.'
"Do you think about it often?"
He nodded, running his fingers through his fine, platinum hair, "More often than not, yes." - 'Constantly.'
"And… Do you regret it?"
He responded with unexpected gentleness, "No."- 'Never, Princess, I wouldn't dare.'
The brunette was silent for a minute, her gaze lost in the distance, while her mind processed the situation, trying to understand what was happening. She was sailing in a sea of question marks, trying to find the stable shore of answers. He… Had felt the same? He enjoyed it? Was that the real reason as to why he wanted a kiss from her? That he genuinely wanted to kiss her?
What?
She rubbed her temples as she thought about how it didn't really make sense: He never showed any signs of liking her, or of even wanting to be near her. All the insults, the name-calling, and the sheer humiliation that came along with it… She'd been taking that burden for years. So, how, in Godric's name, was it possible that he, of all people, wanted to kiss her due to the enjoyment he got out of it?
Wasn't he supposed to feel dirty after kissing her?
...A Mudblood?
His voice resonated in her head: 'Again, you're being petty. Don't be so stuck in the past, take a look at the present, will you?'
Indeed, that thought made her take a look at the present. She was having trouble adapting to it, especially when it had become something extremely different to what she was used to: Now, he was friendly, instead of a bully. Now, he made her laugh, instead of making fun of her. Now, he listened, instead of talking over her.
Now, he kissed her sorrow away, instead of being the reason why she cried.
He did kiss her sorrow away, she admitted to herself: She'd felt as light as a feather, and as free as a bird, as his kisses calmed her irate soul. It had been so freeing to let go, and it amazed her how only his kiss gave her the feeling that she could do it. Hermione realised that she wanted his kiss. – She wanted it so badly. For egoistical reasons, she wouldn't lie to herself. But she needed to experience that relief once more, she craved those sinful lips of his dancing over hers, as they directed the symphony that was going to be their kiss.
More and more, she'd felt infatuated by his mysterious aura, she felt an irresistible pull towards him.
What was he doing to her…?
One thing the Slytherin found adorable about her was when she was thoughtful: She tended to tilt her head to the side, her chocolatey curls falling along, as her forehead drew the most concentrated frown, and her eyes looked at some point lost in the distance. Unbeknownst to her, she was expressive whenever she thought, and her beautiful face gave away whether her thoughts were positive or negative: Her lips would paint the faintest of smiles on her façade when she was happy, and her eyebrows would indistinctively curl up when she was sad.
The blonde saw a smile on her face and smiled himself, deciding to interrupt her train of thought before she changed her mind.
Ever so gently, Draco took her hand in his, drawing her attention back to him.
The Gryffindor looked up, so that their gazes collided once more. To her, the silver in his eyes mesmerised, and it made her wonder how they could look so stoically cold, and yet so melting warm at the same time. – To him, her coppery eyes symbolised the entrance to her delicate soul. It was so full of compassion, so full of kindness. It captivated him.
They communicated silently, as he nodded at her, encouraging her to share her thoughts with him before she had to go. Hermione took the hint and took a deep breath before she spoke.
"I'll give you one more kiss, Draco. But only if you beg like I did."
…