A/N: I don't own any HP characters; they belong to the wonderful JK Rowling. I do, however, own any original characters (you really wanna steal Philomena?) and the plot (you don't want this plot...trust me ::grumble::, I hate writer's block). In any event, R/R please!
~*~Explanation: what the heck is going on? Erm...well...I'm sorta stuck on the Harry part, so I'm working my way through the Philomena stuff until I come to grips with the Harry part, I really don't like what I've written so far...so, any SUGGESTIONS would be greatly appreciated. Mary Sue? ::smacks forehead:: Damn, too late...or is it? Is she? Or isn't she? Whatdya think? Having Draco's father beat him is rather cliché, I know, as most fics are written like that, but it does seem rather appropriate for the kind of man Lucius is, or rather, seems to be at this point. And yes...*sigh* it has begun. As OOC as Draco may be, damn it, I don't care ::pout::
//\\ donates thoughts...yes, that's right, I'm lazy ^_^
CHAPTER SIX (Of Questions and Kisses)
Wrong or Right
Be mine tonight
Harsh world be damned
We'll make a stand
Love can bind
But mine is blind
Others stray but I won't
Walk away
Walk away
--"I Won't Walk Away" by Jewel
That night, Philomena tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. She had apologized to Margaret, but still, something felt wrong. Christmas was looming on the horizon, and she got sick every time she thought about spending the holiday in a new house, with a new family. In fact, she sighed, it wouldn't be Christmas, not really. Everything would be different; everything would be wrong. With another sigh, she slipped out of bed and quietly pushed her cat, Humphrey, out of the way. She crept to the window and gazed out at the grounds of Hogwarts.
A thought manifested in Philomena's mind, and she couldn't shake. She bit her lip and made for the stairs, managing to trip over three different pairs of shoes and one, very confused, very hungry cat. Philomena held her breath as she fell to the floor. She looked to the other beds for any signs of life. Nobody stirred, so Philomena continued on he way. Once in the commons room, she made her way to the portrait hole and into the deserted hallways.
Taking off at a trot, she headed for the Astronomy tower. It was a common hang out at night, thanks, in part, to Harry Potter. His late night excursions had inspired more students to roam the halls at night. Mrs. Norris was positively beside herself. Tonight, however, it too was deserted, so Philomena flopped down on the floor and gazed absently at the clear, night sky.
"Fancy meeting you here."
Philomena's heart nearly stopped beating as she looked up to see Malfoy looming over her.
"Good grief!" she sputtered, getting up.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"I'll go if you go," she shot back, crossing her arms. She realized then that she was still in her pajamas and that she was walking around in pink bunny slippers (**was there ever a doubt? **). Draco sat down, his back to her and she slowly sat next to him, ignoring the disgusted look on his face as she did so.
"What's she like?" Philomena asked.
"Who?"
"Fiona. What's she really like?"
Draco arched an eyebrow. Oh no. He was not going to play family mediator...not tonight.
"Why don't you go ask her?"
"Because she'll laugh in my face."
Draco was silent.
"And I won't?"
"You didn't."
"I'm just too tired to laugh," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Philomena noticed he was still in his uniform.
"How long have you been up here?" she questioned.
"Don't know," he muttered.
"You should go to bed," she said absently, trying to stifle a yawn. He shot a sideways glance.
"Why are you even out here?" he asked.
"Because I wanted to spend more time with you," she said, smirking.
"Trying to kill me, are you?"
"It was an accident," Philomena pouted.
"So you keep trying to tell me," he muttered.
"You're a real up lifting person."
"I don't see you running for the door," he said, with a sigh. There was a pause that seemed, well, that seemed almost companionable.
"Why are you out here?" she asked, turning towards him.
"To be alone," he said wryly. She glowered at him.
"Alright, geez, I can take a hint...you need to be alone to brood, I understand," Philomena slowly got to her feet and had taken only a step when she felt a cold, smooth hand grab her wrist and pull her back.
"Maybe not tonight."
He had said it so softly; she almost didn't hear him. Hesitating for only a second, she slowly dropped into a sitting position next to him. Draco glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her hair looked like a dead animal had made its last stand on top her head, and her pajamas hung loosely about her figure, which was oddly pear-shaped. Her chest was nothing amazingly special, and in fact, was quite small, and did nothing to balance her hips. And she had a baby face, eyes that seemed almost too big and too blue, apple cheeks, and a red, pouty mouth that only made her look younger. She was, he mused, everything any self-respecting Slytherin should hate. Yet here he was. They sat in silence for a while until Philomena stirred.
"I think if I don't get back to bed, I will fall asleep right here," she yawned. Putting out a hand, she tried to stand up, but nearly fell over as her right leg had fallen asleep. Flailing rather ungracefully for something to support herself with, she felt cool, able hands pull her onto her feet.
"Walking. Talking. Death wish," he sighed quietly. Philomena stood perfectly still. She could feel his breath on her cheek, and his hand was still threaded through hers. Her heart was racing and her breath was coming in ragged gasps, which she was trying desperately to hide. His lips brushed against her ear and sent a shiver up her spine. With a jerk, she twitched out of his grasp and with an uneven breath, turned towards the door. She felt thoroughly shaken, but not, she realized, in a completely bad way. Philomena didn't get far before tripping over a desk and sprawling on the floor with a dull smack. Again, the same deft hands reached out and grabbed her. She finally met his gaze, but instead of the malicious grin that usually followed one of her more stupid acts, his face was oddly devoid of any emotion, positive or negative. He pulled her up to her feet with a small sigh.
"That's twice," he muttered.
"Well, it's rather dark," Philomena sputtered, running a hand absently through her tousled hair. And with that, they parted. Philomena, nearly running back to Hufflepuff, for fear that Mrs. Norris would happen by and she would be found, again, out of bed at night. Draco Malfoy, her head was spinning, what on Earth had happened?
Draco collapsed into his bed. The nightmares had come back. Dreams of home, he laughed bitterly. Last summer had been the worst one yet. The beatings had been nightly, and his father had not even bothered to heal his wounds before inflicting new ones. The result, he flinched, were huge scars on his back. That is why he went to the astronomy tower, but Philomena Bell would never understand. No, poor, naive, sheltered Philomena would never know what it felt like to be whipped, hundreds of times over, then starved for a week, and whipped again. She would not know what it felt like to sleep in a puddle of her own blood, or to wake up, unable to open her yes, because they were swollen shut. A part of him hated her for this, but a part of him also wished, even hoped, that she would never find out.
He had finally come to grips, ironically in the astronomy tower, with the fact that he felt something other than hate towards the Hufflepuff. What, exactly, he wasn't sure, but he had found the presence of her warm, soft body oddly reassuring, if not, he shuddered, slightly desirable. He shook the thought out of his mind. No, he would not think about that, not now.
The next morning, Philomena could barely keep her eyes open. She yawned all through breakfast and was barely conscious when the Great Hall started to empty as students wandered to their classes.
"Phil? Hello? Philomena! Let's go, we have class!" Margaret exclaimed, poking her friend. She knew that Philomena had crept out of the tower last night, but she was waiting to grill her friend until after classes. Philomena nodded absently.
"Alright, alright...I'm going, I'm going," she muttered, gathering her books and heading for Arithmancy.
"I'll see you at lunch," Margaret called, heading in the opposite direction. Philomena nodded, and tried to stifle another yawn. She wondered how she would ever manage to get through the school day, and was extremely thankful that it was a Friday. With a sigh she flopped into her seat and absently rummaged in her bag for her quill and parchment.
She heard someone giggle and looked up to see Pansy Parkinson hanging on the every word of Draco Malfoy. Philomena quickly looked away, and paled as she felt a twinge of jealousy. Shaking her head, she tried to clear her thoughts, but found that it only made her throbbing headache worse. She groaned and rubbed her temples, unaware of the eyes on her back.
//I do not like Draco Malfoy. I do not love Draco Malfoy. I do not find Draco Malfoy pleasing in any way, shape, or form. I am not jealous of Pansy Parkinson. I do not care, in the least, that he is paying attention to her, nor do I care that she is giggling. I do not like Draco Malfoy. I do not like Draco Malfoy.//
Pansy giggled again.
//Oh.God. Yes I do.// Philomena's head dropped into her arms with a slight sigh. She was well aware of his reputation. It was not a good one, to say the least. It was rumored that he had slept with several girls, younger and older; that he had dated at least twice as many, and had left a trail of broken hearts, but then again, rumors were often exaggerated, especially at Hogwarts. They also said he was a Death Eater, and drank the blood of virgins every full moon, but Philomena seriously doubted that one.
Arithmancy was a blur. When it was finally time to go, Philomena was barely aware of the homework assignment. She was busily scrawling it down on the nearest sheet of paper, not paying much attention to what was happening around her.
"That's last night's assignment," a voice said beside her. Philomena frowned.
"I knew that," she muttered, turning to face Draco with her best effort at a scowl.
"Of course," he said, then wandered away. Philomena bristled. What was that supposed to mean? Rolling her eyes, she gathered her books and lumbered out of Arithmancy, books in her arms, quill in her mouth, overflowing bag on her shoulder. She glared at Draco as she walked by, and was completely unprepared for him to grab the quill from her mouth and shove it in her bag.
"You're a mess," he sneered. Philomena flared at this, but said nothing, only stalked off as she heard Fiona snicker.
There it was again, acting like a two year old, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. With another sigh, Philomena collapsed in Muggle Studies with a definite thud.
She looked towards Margaret who was sympathetically trying to organize the mess that was her friend.
"You look horrible," Margaret fussed.
"You don't know the half of it."
"Ohhh! Spill!"
"You don't wanna know. It's tragic," Philomena said, throwing books into her bag and putting away her Arithmancy notes, trying to prepare for her next class.
Philomena started at the beginning of the whole twisted story as Margaret listened, spread out on her stomach, eating a chocolate frog.
"So, he helped you up?" Margaret sputtered in-between bites.
"Well, sorta," Philomena said, toying with her pillow.
"That's really weird" she exclaimed.
"You're telling me..." Philomena sighed.
"Do you like him?" Margaret asked tentatively. Philomena paused.
"I think so. I'm not sure. I don't know him that well...and, well, the things I've heard, they aren't quite complimentary."
"They're rumors, you know how things get around Hogwarts. I mean, just last year it was rumored that Pansy Parkinson was the illegitimate child of Snape and a graduated student."
"That was more funny than believable," Philomena giggled.
"So...do you like him?"
"I don't know! That's really the only other time I've been alone with him...besides the time I split his eye open," she sighed.
"Would you want to spend more time with him?" Margaret asked slowly.
"I...I...I guess," Philomena stuttered.
"Well, then why are you sitting around here? Go to the astronomy tower!" Margaret grinned.
"What?"
"He goes there almost every night."
"How would you know?!"
"Don't you pay any attention during lunch?"
"What's there to pay attention to?"
"It was going around the table that he didn't go back to the tower last night, again...spent the night with some...girl," Margaret said giggled. Philomena blushed.
"Nobody knows...they don't think that I...that we...oh dear."
"No! Nobody knows it was you, calm down! But the weird thing is, he never said who it was or what they were doing...and he certainly isn't going around denying any of the rumors saying he was having-"
"Why on earth would I want to meet that...that little creep again if he's letting the entire school think that he's-"
"Nobody knows it was you!" Margaret said again. Philomena bit her lip.
"Still! It's the principle of the whole thing," she muttered.
"Go!" Margaret said, pointing towards the door.
"I don't want to get in trouble!" Philomena said, turning away.
"Sacrifices must be made!" Margaret said, fussing over Philomena's disheveled hair.
"I'm not going to sacrifice myself!" Philomena gurgled indignantly.
"May I suggest losing the bunny slippers?"
"No! I like-"
But before Philomena could get the rest of her sentence out, Margaret had already led her down the stairs and pushed her out the portrait hole. Philomena stood there a moment, staring at the now pitch black hallway.
"Well, this is a fine mess," she muttered to herself. Then, she thought she heard tiny, furry, footsteps coming up the hallway, and darted for the astronomy tower, silently freaking out the entire way. Twice she nearly tripped over her own feet, and almost let out a yelp, but put a hand over her mouth to quiet her cry.
She plodded up the staircase, her heart on the brink of explosion as she collapsed on the last step.
"I'm going to kill her. I'm going to absolutely murder Margaret for this," she seethed, trying to calm her nerves.
"Do what?"
"Don't start," Philomena growled, turning to Draco.
"I always knew you were homicidal," he muttered.
"Oh don't. even. Start." Philomena gulped, getting to her feet.
"What?"
"You're the one going around pretending that you had some big adventurous night when all you did was sit around last night with me, looking sour and brooding!" Philomena exclaimed, hitting him on the shoulder for emphasis. Draco gave her a rather bemused look.
"What on Earth are you babbling about?"
"All those rumors about you being this big hot shot...I can't believe you!" Philomena sputtered. She paced in front of him, just talking to talk. She honestly didn't care what others thought about him or his nightly exploits, but now felt exceedingly awkward in front of him.
"What, are you jealous? Jealous that something didn't happen?" he drawled, watching her pace.
"No! Jealous?! Ha! I'd just as soon eat my own throw up then do anything with y-"
Philomena's sentence was cut off as a pair of smooth, warm lips covered her own. Her eyes widened and she pushed away, falling over her own feet in the process and glaring at Draco with what she hoped was a disapproving look, but figured she probably looked more confused than anything else.
Draco smirked, it was an awkward kiss at best, and he wondered if maybe he hadn't been her first.
"That was rotten!" she exclaimed, getting to her feet.
"I would agree," he said, arching an eyebrow.
"Are you implying I'm a bad kisser!?"
"Bad, I believe, is an understatement."
Philomena glared at the floor, her arms crossed.
"You...confuse me," she said after a slight pause.
"Well that's not hard to do."
With a sigh, she nodded slowly and turned around.
"No...I suppose not."
With a frustrated groan, Draco grabbed her wrist.
"Wait, I didn't mean it," he muttered.
"I don't care," Philomena muttered through gritted teeth.
"It wasn't a bad kiss."
"I still don't care."
"I think you're being rather childish," he said. His voice was soft, almost gentle, and Philomena could feel her resolve slowly diminishing.
Draco watched her wrinkle her nose, then slowly, her expression softened. He smiled and reached out for her hand.
"Don't hate me," he sighed. Philomena's breath got caught in her throat, but she refused to meet his gaze. Any minute he could pull away and start laughing, this could all be one big joke.
"Then don't hate me," Philomena whispered evenly. Her voice sounded small, even to her own ears. She hadn't meant to sound so pathetic, and she bit her lip. Maybe she really was hopeless.
"I don't hate you," Draco said softly. And so the awful truth was out. He winced, realizing his horrible folly; he was now at her mercy.
"I find that rather hard to believe."
"Why?"
He was slowly edging closer, she could feel his body next to her and she wondered if maybe she was in way over her head. Her heart was pounding in her chest and the only coherent thought that was roaming around her head was the strange shiver that went up her spine every time he touched her and how smooth his hand was.
"Because I'm a Hufflepuff, and you're a Slytherin...and you glare at me every chance you get, and make fun of me whenever the mood strikes you...and...and you seem to delight in my misery," she said, hiding a small sigh as his other hand snaked around her waist. Philomena closed her eyes and held her breath as she felt his lips brush her cheek. She was now completely enveloped by his body and could barely manage to stand upright, were he not supporting her.
"I do not delight in your misery," he said after a pause. Philomena barely heard him.
"Oh really? So, if I were to collapse in the middle of the hall, you would not laugh?" she asked, quite seriously.
"Of course I would," he answered with a small smile. Philomena frowned.
"You, sir, are one very mean person," she sputtered, trying, in vain, to wriggle out of his grasp. His grip seemed to tighten, so she gave up and settled back into him.
Draco leaned into her, his head resting on her shoulder, her hair tickling his cheek, her warm breath on his ear. She was so soft, so very, very soft, and sweet. He resolved to lose himself, to forget the black cloud that surrounded him, to focus only on the small form he clutched in his arms. She didn't say anything, and slowly, he felt her relax and almost melt into his body. He listened intently to her breathing, to the rhythmic beating of her heart, trying not to remember the nightmares that would soon come to haunt him, if he were to let go.
"No," he all but sighed, bringing her closer. Philomena didn't resist, and slowly, she turned into him, leaning her head against his shoulder. This was right. This was something that had been right before either of them had ever set foot in Hogwarts, years before, ages before, lifetimes before. She knew these arms, she knew these hands, this face, she knew this person, and it terrified her. There was a force, a strange bond that held them together, and from the very instant she had come careening into his life in a dark, dungeon hallway, she had been peculiarly aware of it. She closed her eyes and wondered just what she was getting herself into. There would be pain, she knew. Swallowing hard, she tried desperately not to think about the rumors, not to think about Pansy, not to think about that cold, hard, glare that he seemed only too ready to give her. How could one person have two completely different sides? But for now, she was simply content to hold him and be held.
"I won't leave you," Philomena murmured. Her voice was distant and strange, and almost sounded as if it hadn't even come from her, but from some place long gone, some time now forgotten. She felt him relax.
"I know."
Eep! Did I really just do that?! Yes, yes I did. Comments welcome. Moving too quickly? Tough nookies! Still working on the Harry bit, I promise I won't make this into a sappy romance...unless, of course, you want it to be a sappy romace ::grin::. Ok, so, go ahead, R/R, you know you want to.
~*~Explanation: what the heck is going on? Erm...well...I'm sorta stuck on the Harry part, so I'm working my way through the Philomena stuff until I come to grips with the Harry part, I really don't like what I've written so far...so, any SUGGESTIONS would be greatly appreciated. Mary Sue? ::smacks forehead:: Damn, too late...or is it? Is she? Or isn't she? Whatdya think? Having Draco's father beat him is rather cliché, I know, as most fics are written like that, but it does seem rather appropriate for the kind of man Lucius is, or rather, seems to be at this point. And yes...*sigh* it has begun. As OOC as Draco may be, damn it, I don't care ::pout::
//\\ donates thoughts...yes, that's right, I'm lazy ^_^
CHAPTER SIX (Of Questions and Kisses)
Wrong or Right
Be mine tonight
Harsh world be damned
We'll make a stand
Love can bind
But mine is blind
Others stray but I won't
Walk away
Walk away
--"I Won't Walk Away" by Jewel
That night, Philomena tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. She had apologized to Margaret, but still, something felt wrong. Christmas was looming on the horizon, and she got sick every time she thought about spending the holiday in a new house, with a new family. In fact, she sighed, it wouldn't be Christmas, not really. Everything would be different; everything would be wrong. With another sigh, she slipped out of bed and quietly pushed her cat, Humphrey, out of the way. She crept to the window and gazed out at the grounds of Hogwarts.
A thought manifested in Philomena's mind, and she couldn't shake. She bit her lip and made for the stairs, managing to trip over three different pairs of shoes and one, very confused, very hungry cat. Philomena held her breath as she fell to the floor. She looked to the other beds for any signs of life. Nobody stirred, so Philomena continued on he way. Once in the commons room, she made her way to the portrait hole and into the deserted hallways.
Taking off at a trot, she headed for the Astronomy tower. It was a common hang out at night, thanks, in part, to Harry Potter. His late night excursions had inspired more students to roam the halls at night. Mrs. Norris was positively beside herself. Tonight, however, it too was deserted, so Philomena flopped down on the floor and gazed absently at the clear, night sky.
"Fancy meeting you here."
Philomena's heart nearly stopped beating as she looked up to see Malfoy looming over her.
"Good grief!" she sputtered, getting up.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"I'll go if you go," she shot back, crossing her arms. She realized then that she was still in her pajamas and that she was walking around in pink bunny slippers (**was there ever a doubt? **). Draco sat down, his back to her and she slowly sat next to him, ignoring the disgusted look on his face as she did so.
"What's she like?" Philomena asked.
"Who?"
"Fiona. What's she really like?"
Draco arched an eyebrow. Oh no. He was not going to play family mediator...not tonight.
"Why don't you go ask her?"
"Because she'll laugh in my face."
Draco was silent.
"And I won't?"
"You didn't."
"I'm just too tired to laugh," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Philomena noticed he was still in his uniform.
"How long have you been up here?" she questioned.
"Don't know," he muttered.
"You should go to bed," she said absently, trying to stifle a yawn. He shot a sideways glance.
"Why are you even out here?" he asked.
"Because I wanted to spend more time with you," she said, smirking.
"Trying to kill me, are you?"
"It was an accident," Philomena pouted.
"So you keep trying to tell me," he muttered.
"You're a real up lifting person."
"I don't see you running for the door," he said, with a sigh. There was a pause that seemed, well, that seemed almost companionable.
"Why are you out here?" she asked, turning towards him.
"To be alone," he said wryly. She glowered at him.
"Alright, geez, I can take a hint...you need to be alone to brood, I understand," Philomena slowly got to her feet and had taken only a step when she felt a cold, smooth hand grab her wrist and pull her back.
"Maybe not tonight."
He had said it so softly; she almost didn't hear him. Hesitating for only a second, she slowly dropped into a sitting position next to him. Draco glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her hair looked like a dead animal had made its last stand on top her head, and her pajamas hung loosely about her figure, which was oddly pear-shaped. Her chest was nothing amazingly special, and in fact, was quite small, and did nothing to balance her hips. And she had a baby face, eyes that seemed almost too big and too blue, apple cheeks, and a red, pouty mouth that only made her look younger. She was, he mused, everything any self-respecting Slytherin should hate. Yet here he was. They sat in silence for a while until Philomena stirred.
"I think if I don't get back to bed, I will fall asleep right here," she yawned. Putting out a hand, she tried to stand up, but nearly fell over as her right leg had fallen asleep. Flailing rather ungracefully for something to support herself with, she felt cool, able hands pull her onto her feet.
"Walking. Talking. Death wish," he sighed quietly. Philomena stood perfectly still. She could feel his breath on her cheek, and his hand was still threaded through hers. Her heart was racing and her breath was coming in ragged gasps, which she was trying desperately to hide. His lips brushed against her ear and sent a shiver up her spine. With a jerk, she twitched out of his grasp and with an uneven breath, turned towards the door. She felt thoroughly shaken, but not, she realized, in a completely bad way. Philomena didn't get far before tripping over a desk and sprawling on the floor with a dull smack. Again, the same deft hands reached out and grabbed her. She finally met his gaze, but instead of the malicious grin that usually followed one of her more stupid acts, his face was oddly devoid of any emotion, positive or negative. He pulled her up to her feet with a small sigh.
"That's twice," he muttered.
"Well, it's rather dark," Philomena sputtered, running a hand absently through her tousled hair. And with that, they parted. Philomena, nearly running back to Hufflepuff, for fear that Mrs. Norris would happen by and she would be found, again, out of bed at night. Draco Malfoy, her head was spinning, what on Earth had happened?
Draco collapsed into his bed. The nightmares had come back. Dreams of home, he laughed bitterly. Last summer had been the worst one yet. The beatings had been nightly, and his father had not even bothered to heal his wounds before inflicting new ones. The result, he flinched, were huge scars on his back. That is why he went to the astronomy tower, but Philomena Bell would never understand. No, poor, naive, sheltered Philomena would never know what it felt like to be whipped, hundreds of times over, then starved for a week, and whipped again. She would not know what it felt like to sleep in a puddle of her own blood, or to wake up, unable to open her yes, because they were swollen shut. A part of him hated her for this, but a part of him also wished, even hoped, that she would never find out.
He had finally come to grips, ironically in the astronomy tower, with the fact that he felt something other than hate towards the Hufflepuff. What, exactly, he wasn't sure, but he had found the presence of her warm, soft body oddly reassuring, if not, he shuddered, slightly desirable. He shook the thought out of his mind. No, he would not think about that, not now.
The next morning, Philomena could barely keep her eyes open. She yawned all through breakfast and was barely conscious when the Great Hall started to empty as students wandered to their classes.
"Phil? Hello? Philomena! Let's go, we have class!" Margaret exclaimed, poking her friend. She knew that Philomena had crept out of the tower last night, but she was waiting to grill her friend until after classes. Philomena nodded absently.
"Alright, alright...I'm going, I'm going," she muttered, gathering her books and heading for Arithmancy.
"I'll see you at lunch," Margaret called, heading in the opposite direction. Philomena nodded, and tried to stifle another yawn. She wondered how she would ever manage to get through the school day, and was extremely thankful that it was a Friday. With a sigh she flopped into her seat and absently rummaged in her bag for her quill and parchment.
She heard someone giggle and looked up to see Pansy Parkinson hanging on the every word of Draco Malfoy. Philomena quickly looked away, and paled as she felt a twinge of jealousy. Shaking her head, she tried to clear her thoughts, but found that it only made her throbbing headache worse. She groaned and rubbed her temples, unaware of the eyes on her back.
//I do not like Draco Malfoy. I do not love Draco Malfoy. I do not find Draco Malfoy pleasing in any way, shape, or form. I am not jealous of Pansy Parkinson. I do not care, in the least, that he is paying attention to her, nor do I care that she is giggling. I do not like Draco Malfoy. I do not like Draco Malfoy.//
Pansy giggled again.
//Oh.God. Yes I do.// Philomena's head dropped into her arms with a slight sigh. She was well aware of his reputation. It was not a good one, to say the least. It was rumored that he had slept with several girls, younger and older; that he had dated at least twice as many, and had left a trail of broken hearts, but then again, rumors were often exaggerated, especially at Hogwarts. They also said he was a Death Eater, and drank the blood of virgins every full moon, but Philomena seriously doubted that one.
Arithmancy was a blur. When it was finally time to go, Philomena was barely aware of the homework assignment. She was busily scrawling it down on the nearest sheet of paper, not paying much attention to what was happening around her.
"That's last night's assignment," a voice said beside her. Philomena frowned.
"I knew that," she muttered, turning to face Draco with her best effort at a scowl.
"Of course," he said, then wandered away. Philomena bristled. What was that supposed to mean? Rolling her eyes, she gathered her books and lumbered out of Arithmancy, books in her arms, quill in her mouth, overflowing bag on her shoulder. She glared at Draco as she walked by, and was completely unprepared for him to grab the quill from her mouth and shove it in her bag.
"You're a mess," he sneered. Philomena flared at this, but said nothing, only stalked off as she heard Fiona snicker.
There it was again, acting like a two year old, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. With another sigh, Philomena collapsed in Muggle Studies with a definite thud.
She looked towards Margaret who was sympathetically trying to organize the mess that was her friend.
"You look horrible," Margaret fussed.
"You don't know the half of it."
"Ohhh! Spill!"
"You don't wanna know. It's tragic," Philomena said, throwing books into her bag and putting away her Arithmancy notes, trying to prepare for her next class.
Philomena started at the beginning of the whole twisted story as Margaret listened, spread out on her stomach, eating a chocolate frog.
"So, he helped you up?" Margaret sputtered in-between bites.
"Well, sorta," Philomena said, toying with her pillow.
"That's really weird" she exclaimed.
"You're telling me..." Philomena sighed.
"Do you like him?" Margaret asked tentatively. Philomena paused.
"I think so. I'm not sure. I don't know him that well...and, well, the things I've heard, they aren't quite complimentary."
"They're rumors, you know how things get around Hogwarts. I mean, just last year it was rumored that Pansy Parkinson was the illegitimate child of Snape and a graduated student."
"That was more funny than believable," Philomena giggled.
"So...do you like him?"
"I don't know! That's really the only other time I've been alone with him...besides the time I split his eye open," she sighed.
"Would you want to spend more time with him?" Margaret asked slowly.
"I...I...I guess," Philomena stuttered.
"Well, then why are you sitting around here? Go to the astronomy tower!" Margaret grinned.
"What?"
"He goes there almost every night."
"How would you know?!"
"Don't you pay any attention during lunch?"
"What's there to pay attention to?"
"It was going around the table that he didn't go back to the tower last night, again...spent the night with some...girl," Margaret said giggled. Philomena blushed.
"Nobody knows...they don't think that I...that we...oh dear."
"No! Nobody knows it was you, calm down! But the weird thing is, he never said who it was or what they were doing...and he certainly isn't going around denying any of the rumors saying he was having-"
"Why on earth would I want to meet that...that little creep again if he's letting the entire school think that he's-"
"Nobody knows it was you!" Margaret said again. Philomena bit her lip.
"Still! It's the principle of the whole thing," she muttered.
"Go!" Margaret said, pointing towards the door.
"I don't want to get in trouble!" Philomena said, turning away.
"Sacrifices must be made!" Margaret said, fussing over Philomena's disheveled hair.
"I'm not going to sacrifice myself!" Philomena gurgled indignantly.
"May I suggest losing the bunny slippers?"
"No! I like-"
But before Philomena could get the rest of her sentence out, Margaret had already led her down the stairs and pushed her out the portrait hole. Philomena stood there a moment, staring at the now pitch black hallway.
"Well, this is a fine mess," she muttered to herself. Then, she thought she heard tiny, furry, footsteps coming up the hallway, and darted for the astronomy tower, silently freaking out the entire way. Twice she nearly tripped over her own feet, and almost let out a yelp, but put a hand over her mouth to quiet her cry.
She plodded up the staircase, her heart on the brink of explosion as she collapsed on the last step.
"I'm going to kill her. I'm going to absolutely murder Margaret for this," she seethed, trying to calm her nerves.
"Do what?"
"Don't start," Philomena growled, turning to Draco.
"I always knew you were homicidal," he muttered.
"Oh don't. even. Start." Philomena gulped, getting to her feet.
"What?"
"You're the one going around pretending that you had some big adventurous night when all you did was sit around last night with me, looking sour and brooding!" Philomena exclaimed, hitting him on the shoulder for emphasis. Draco gave her a rather bemused look.
"What on Earth are you babbling about?"
"All those rumors about you being this big hot shot...I can't believe you!" Philomena sputtered. She paced in front of him, just talking to talk. She honestly didn't care what others thought about him or his nightly exploits, but now felt exceedingly awkward in front of him.
"What, are you jealous? Jealous that something didn't happen?" he drawled, watching her pace.
"No! Jealous?! Ha! I'd just as soon eat my own throw up then do anything with y-"
Philomena's sentence was cut off as a pair of smooth, warm lips covered her own. Her eyes widened and she pushed away, falling over her own feet in the process and glaring at Draco with what she hoped was a disapproving look, but figured she probably looked more confused than anything else.
Draco smirked, it was an awkward kiss at best, and he wondered if maybe he hadn't been her first.
"That was rotten!" she exclaimed, getting to her feet.
"I would agree," he said, arching an eyebrow.
"Are you implying I'm a bad kisser!?"
"Bad, I believe, is an understatement."
Philomena glared at the floor, her arms crossed.
"You...confuse me," she said after a slight pause.
"Well that's not hard to do."
With a sigh, she nodded slowly and turned around.
"No...I suppose not."
With a frustrated groan, Draco grabbed her wrist.
"Wait, I didn't mean it," he muttered.
"I don't care," Philomena muttered through gritted teeth.
"It wasn't a bad kiss."
"I still don't care."
"I think you're being rather childish," he said. His voice was soft, almost gentle, and Philomena could feel her resolve slowly diminishing.
Draco watched her wrinkle her nose, then slowly, her expression softened. He smiled and reached out for her hand.
"Don't hate me," he sighed. Philomena's breath got caught in her throat, but she refused to meet his gaze. Any minute he could pull away and start laughing, this could all be one big joke.
"Then don't hate me," Philomena whispered evenly. Her voice sounded small, even to her own ears. She hadn't meant to sound so pathetic, and she bit her lip. Maybe she really was hopeless.
"I don't hate you," Draco said softly. And so the awful truth was out. He winced, realizing his horrible folly; he was now at her mercy.
"I find that rather hard to believe."
"Why?"
He was slowly edging closer, she could feel his body next to her and she wondered if maybe she was in way over her head. Her heart was pounding in her chest and the only coherent thought that was roaming around her head was the strange shiver that went up her spine every time he touched her and how smooth his hand was.
"Because I'm a Hufflepuff, and you're a Slytherin...and you glare at me every chance you get, and make fun of me whenever the mood strikes you...and...and you seem to delight in my misery," she said, hiding a small sigh as his other hand snaked around her waist. Philomena closed her eyes and held her breath as she felt his lips brush her cheek. She was now completely enveloped by his body and could barely manage to stand upright, were he not supporting her.
"I do not delight in your misery," he said after a pause. Philomena barely heard him.
"Oh really? So, if I were to collapse in the middle of the hall, you would not laugh?" she asked, quite seriously.
"Of course I would," he answered with a small smile. Philomena frowned.
"You, sir, are one very mean person," she sputtered, trying, in vain, to wriggle out of his grasp. His grip seemed to tighten, so she gave up and settled back into him.
Draco leaned into her, his head resting on her shoulder, her hair tickling his cheek, her warm breath on his ear. She was so soft, so very, very soft, and sweet. He resolved to lose himself, to forget the black cloud that surrounded him, to focus only on the small form he clutched in his arms. She didn't say anything, and slowly, he felt her relax and almost melt into his body. He listened intently to her breathing, to the rhythmic beating of her heart, trying not to remember the nightmares that would soon come to haunt him, if he were to let go.
"No," he all but sighed, bringing her closer. Philomena didn't resist, and slowly, she turned into him, leaning her head against his shoulder. This was right. This was something that had been right before either of them had ever set foot in Hogwarts, years before, ages before, lifetimes before. She knew these arms, she knew these hands, this face, she knew this person, and it terrified her. There was a force, a strange bond that held them together, and from the very instant she had come careening into his life in a dark, dungeon hallway, she had been peculiarly aware of it. She closed her eyes and wondered just what she was getting herself into. There would be pain, she knew. Swallowing hard, she tried desperately not to think about the rumors, not to think about Pansy, not to think about that cold, hard, glare that he seemed only too ready to give her. How could one person have two completely different sides? But for now, she was simply content to hold him and be held.
"I won't leave you," Philomena murmured. Her voice was distant and strange, and almost sounded as if it hadn't even come from her, but from some place long gone, some time now forgotten. She felt him relax.
"I know."
Eep! Did I really just do that?! Yes, yes I did. Comments welcome. Moving too quickly? Tough nookies! Still working on the Harry bit, I promise I won't make this into a sappy romance...unless, of course, you want it to be a sappy romace ::grin::. Ok, so, go ahead, R/R, you know you want to.