"STOP! Don't open. that door!" - Wesker, Resident Evil

*

Draco only smiled, and stood up, offering her his hand.

"Draco!" Hermione threatened, "What was that for?"

"For luck," he said, "For laughs. For the unknown."

Hermione blinked. "I know that line. Don't tell me you've read Peter S. Beagle. He's a Muggle!"

"I thought that you, of all people would know better than that. Beagle may have been a Muggle, but the story's true enough."

"Are you serious?" Hermione was incredulous.

"Completely." He winked.

"Who are you?" she demanded, "and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?"

"Get up," he said, "Unless you'd like to stay here and wait for" he nodded towards the licker "more of those things."

"That's better. Much more in character."

"That hurts, Granger. You're breaking my heart."

"You'll survive." Hermione stood up, surprised to find that, though she was shaky, her legs didn't give out under her weight. She took an unsteady step, bracing herself on the wall.

Draco said nothing, but gave her a look that clearly told her he thought her weak.

She told herself it was the tingling in her arm that made her feel so lightheaded. It had absolutely nothing to do with the kiss, though she could still feel the heat of his lips on her mouth. At the thought, she looked at his mouth, then quickly away when he caught her.

I must have caught the zombie virus, Hermione thought. What other explanation is there for me swooning over Malfoy? She put a hand to her head, checking for signs of fever.

"Don't worry," said Draco, "I'm sure you're fine. I've yet to kill anyone with a kiss."

Hermione glared at him, hoping to god that he didn't know that her immediate reaction was to ask him to try again.

Like I don't have bigger things to worry about, she scolded herself.

She walked past the corpse of the licker, trying not to breathe - the thing seemed to be giving off an odor that was worse than it had been when it was alive. There was also a pile of goo surrounding it. Hermione gagged, praying she wouldn't throw up. Wouldn't that just be something for Malfoy to pester her about?

"What the hell was that, anyway?" asked Draco, conversationally.

"Didn't I already tell you I don't know? I certainly haven't had time to read about it since the last time you asked." She thought a moment. "If I had to guess, I'd say it's some sort of mutant variation on the zombies."

"Zombies can mutate? That's perverse."

"Everything about this situation is perverse. If I didn't know better, I'd think I was imagining the whole thing." Hermione pinched herself as she said that, making sure her assumption was right.

"You're insane, Granger. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Coming from you, Malfoy, that's almost a compliment."

They'd made it halfway down the hall as they were arguing, and again they stood in front of the door they'd meant to open before they were so rudely interrupted by the licker. Hermione hesitated, looking to Draco.

"I'm not going in first. I'm through with the chivalry. You're standing there; you open the door. You're the Gryffindor." He crossed his arms, and shot her a challenging look.

"Are you implying that I'm a coward?"

He thought a moment. "Yes," he said, "I think I am."

"Why, you."

"After all," he pointed out logically, "Who was the one who killed the licker?"

"That hasn't anything to do with courage! I might have gotten it myself if you hadn't stepped in with your action-hero swagger! You're a pig, Malfoy."

"Better than being a ferret," he replied, his face showing no response to the rest of her retort.

Hermione laughed. "Who knew you had a sense of humor?"

"I did. Are you going to stand her chattering, or are you going to open that bloody door?"

Instead of answering him, she placed her ear to the door, trying to hear any indication of dogs beyond the hallway. It was silent. She opened the door a crack. When no large black animal lunged for her throat, Hermione felt safe in opening the door the rest of the way.

The room was smaller than the other, with just a single desk in the back, near a window. Hermione walked in.

From the doorway, Draco called, "Is it safe?"

"No," Hermione said, "I'm a zombie now, don't come in or I'll eat you."

"I'm not sure I'd mind that," he drawled, and before she could tell him she hadn't meant it that way, followed up with, "Didn't you say zombies don't eat people?"

"Your listening skills must have improved. Yes, I did say that. Anyway, come in, it seems to be empty. I don't even see a body."

"It's our lucky day. Do you see anything useful? Bullets, maybe?" He'd entered the room, and was peering out the window.

"I haven't had the chance to look yet. I was more concerned with the absence of anything that would kill us than the presence of ammunition. Can you see anything out there?" She'd started rummaging through the desk.

"No, it's too dark. And actually, I'm not sure I'd want to see what's out there. If this one building's filled with zombies, dogs and. whatever that other thing was, I'm fairly certain I don't want to know what else is in this city."

"What makes you sure it's the whole city?" Hermione asked.

"Did you see anyone else when we got here?"

"No, but we hardly had the chance to look around now, did we?"

"And whose fault was that? If I recall correctly, someone insisted we get out of the rain," he reminded her. He'd turned around and was half sitting on the window ledge. The blood on his cheek had dried to a dirty brown, his hair was mussed and sticking up above his ears, and damn, if his eyes weren't the loveliest shade of.

Stop it, Hermione! I must be going mad, she decided.

"Sorry." She went back to searching the desk. She could hear him tapping his foot, then the distinct sound of cracking knuckles.

The bastard, she thought, he's got the nerve to be impatient.

Then, triumphantly, she cried, "I've found bullets!"

He walked over and stood behind her. Hermione wondered if he was standing so close on purpose, to unnerve her. If he was, or if he wasn't, it was having the same effect, and her heart thumped crazily.

"Let's see," he said, bending his head over her shoulder.

Hermione tried to edge away, but found he was blocked her. If she took a step back, she'd simply come into contact with his chest. He'd splayed his hands one on either side of her on the desk, neatly trapping her.

"Here," she said, stupidly tapping the box of bullets. Surely he could see them without her pointing them out.

Draco leaned in closer. There was no way he wasn't purposely doing this. Hermione turned around, and placed her palms to his chest, intent on pushing him halfway across the room. Or perhaps through the wall.

Or maybe against the wall, the part of her brain run by hormones shouted. The hesitation was enough for Draco to react, and he caught her wrists in his hands. "Are you going to push me down and steal my lunch, Granger?"

"I don't think so," she said.

"Oh?" he narrowed his eyes, and smiled.

"No," Hermione said, and twisted her hands, grabbing his wrists. She pushed him backwards.

Draco wasn't expecting it, and faltered. While he was trying to stay on his feet, she pounced, freeing her hands from his, and taking his mouth in a hungry kiss.

She'd surprised him, she could tell. His mouth had been open (probably to throw some disparaging remark her way) and his hands stopped their descent towards her shoulders, instead tangling themselves in her hair.

Hermione's own arms wrapped tightly around his back, kneading the muscles. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and traced his teeth. He sighed into her mouth, letting her lead the way.

She was high on power, dizzy with it. Or maybe she was just dizzy because all of the blood in her body seemed to be rushing at high speeds away from her brain. She was driven by pure instinct. She drew back slightly from the kiss, and lightly bit his bottom lip. He shuddered in her arms.

"Hermione," he said, or at least that's what she thought he'd said. She couldn't be sure, as he was speaking with his bottom lip between her teeth.

Instead of letting him go, she just kissed him again, and then he was kissing her back, and his hands hand traveled from her hair to the small of her back where they were. ooh, whatever they were doing was simply delicious and she pressed harder on his back with her own hands and.

What was that noise? Something in the back of Hermione's mind - probably a survival instinct - was telling her that something was very, very wrong.

"Mmmpf," she said against Draco's mouth.

A split second later, something hit the back of her head.