Chapter 2:
A/N: As promised, here is Draco's point of view. This chapter will probably give you a better idea of what's going on.
Songs you can listen to:
Jason Aldean & Carrie Underwood - If I didn't love you
X Ambassadors - Unsteady
Imagine Dragons - Radioactive
Taylor Swift - Maroon
August 2005
"What the fuck are you doing here, Granger?" Draco hissed harshly as he yanked her by her arm, pulling her into an alcove when she exited the Great Hall where they'd just had their first meeting of the term.
The echoing click-clack of Granger's sanctimonious gait faded as she tried to keep her balance, yanking her arm from his grip while simultaneously steadying herself with a palm pressed flat against one of the stone walls.
The flames from the sconces against the wall flickered with their sudden movements, casting an orange glow over Granger's face that made his stomach flip. He was painfully reminded of her striking beauty; a face he'd grown familiar with once upon a time.
"What the hell is your problem, Malfoy?" She demanded with blazing honey eyes, rubbing at a sore spot where he might have gripped her a little too hard in his well-appointed fury.
Seeing her here tonight had been quite the shock.
McGonagall had neglected to tell them that the Golden Girl would be joining on as the new Ancient Runes professor.
Almost everyone, including Longbottom, Flitwick, Vector, and the prettier one of the Patil twins, had received this' surprise' well, all eager to welcome her back to Hogwarts.
But not him.
He was not happy to have her here at all.
Listening to Granger titter while the younger professors told her 'sweet' little anecdotes from their time teaching here had made him want to gouge his eyes out with a dessert spoon. She wasn't fucking welcome here. It had grated on his last nerve to hear his daft colleagues try and make her feel at ease. Bunch of bloody Hufflepuffs...the lot of them.
So, instead of listening to them prattle on, he'd endeavoured to lose himself in his firewhisky, a concession made by the Headmistress while there were no children around that needed minding.
Theo had looked at him with open curiosity. And instead of meeting his eye, he'd kept his gaze down while he'd pretended to find the remainder of his firewhisky interesting.
The whisky had not taken his mind off Granger. To be honest, he'd hoped he'd never have to see her again. Especially after the way they'd parted ways five years ago.
"I asked you a question," he sneered, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms defensively across his chest.
"Well," she started, lips quirking up into a signature Malfoy smirk. He supposed she'd been around him long enough that it had rubbed off on her at some point. "I suppose I never thought you to be dim, but I have been known to misjudge people from time to time, so I'll spell it out-"
"Oh, fuck off, Granger," he cut her off, pushed back from the wall and stalked toward her. "You know exactly what I mean," he hissed and pointed a finger at her, watching that smug smirk falter and slip from her face.
"I work here, now," she ground out lowly from between clenched teeth, her white-knuckled hands curled into fists at her sides. Her eyes flashed with fire.
"And why is that, exactly?" He growled, already regretting that he'd started this argument in the first place. This was a mistake: them being in such close proximity. Seeing her again was too much and he desperately needed to get as far away from her as he could. Yet, for some masochistic reason, he had to know the details. "Last time I heard, you were doing just fine with your career in curse-breaking. Was Gringotts boring you already? Or did they simply run out of books for you to read?"
"It's none of your business, Malfoy. I don't owe you an explanation," she snapped, a flush of irritation creeping up from her neck to stain her cheeks red. "In fact, I don't owe you a bloody thing."
"Actually," he barked a sardonic laugh, "Now that you mention it, dear, perhaps you could release me from paying alimony every month?" He pointedly looked down at her feet, the left one tapping out a frustrated rhythm in what looked to be a very expensive designer shoe. "It doesn't appear that you need financial support anymore, judging by those ridiculous shoes you strut around in. I bet if you sold some of them, you'd be set for life. You could probably keep a third-world country afloat for a few months with a pair or two."
"Excuse me?" She gaped at him, looking horrified that he might suggest she give up her precious shoe collection.
"You're excused, darling," he smirked, knowing he was pushing her buttons and loving every minute of it.
"I never asked you for a sickle after our divorce," she growled. "That was the arrangement you and your dear father came up with."
"But you never declined the money, either, did you?" He countered smugly.
Granger looked down, fidgeting with the hem of her robes, oddly quiet for someone with the knack to talk your ears off your head. Draco watched as her shoulders sagged and a sigh skated over her lips, defeat reflected in her posture.
He felt momentarily sorry for being an arsehole to her. But then again, why should he? She'd walked away from their marriage because she was ashamed of being associated with someone like him; ashamed of what people would think when they eventually found out that she—war heroine and muggle-born—had married into a family of Ex-Death Eaters.
He hated her for making him believe that she'd seen past his reputation. He hated her for making him believe that love conquered all and that he deserved something good in his life. And worst of all, he hated her for not having the guts to say it to his face; for telling his father the truth, instead of him.
Her reason for leaving him had floored him. He'd thought that if there was one thing that would make her leave, it would have been the pressure of dealing with his mother and father's disapproval. Or moving into the Manor with him. But in the end, he'd simply not been good enough for someone like her, and he was pathetic for believing her lies.
Feeling bone-weary and raw from their encounter, Draco heaved a sighed and turned away from her, heading back toward the dungeons. "Just..." He looked back at Granger over his shoulder, carding his hands roughly through his hair before scrubbing his face in frustration, "Just try and stay out of my way, Granger."
**FLASHBACK**
June 1998
"It's so good to have you home, Draco," his mother cooed as she led him to the dining room for breakfast. "I'm very relieved that the trials are over and that you've been pardoned."
He hummed his agreement, distracted. He was tired and irritable and he didn't feel like talking this morning. Was it too much to ask for a cup of coffee and some peace and quiet in this abominable house?
"Did you sleep well in your own bed last night, dear? It must have been such a change from those horrid beds they let you sleep on in Azkaban. I mean, honestly, you aren't a bloody criminal like the rest. The least they could-"
"I slept well, mother. Thank you," he cut her off, having had his fill of conversation for the day already, and it was barely nine. He pulled his lips into something resembling a placating smile to try and convince her he was happy to be back in the Manor.
He wasn't.
The truth was, he'd barely gotten a wink of sleep last night. He'd rolled around for hours, hearing Granger's screams echo through the house. He'd felt the familiar bone-deep cold of the Dark Lord's presence lingering in the house. Heard his aunt's taunting cackles and smelled the cloying scent of rotting flesh as his new master leered and cackled before branding him with the Dark Mark. He'd heard the pleas and cries from the multiple muggle women as they were forced down onto the icy marble floors in the drawing room to be raped. He remembered the feeling of being forced to watch while the more seasoned Death Eaters took turns with these women, laughing and jeering like fucking animals. Remembered his mother twitching and trembling as the aftershocks of the Cruciatus Curse wracked her body, all because he didn't have the stomach to kill Albus Dumbledore.
He hated this fucking house.
He'd burn it to the ground if he were given the chance.
"I took the initiative to invite Mrs Avery and her daughter over for breakfast. I hope you don't mind, darling. The Averys' daughter just completed her final year at Beauxbatons and moved back to London about a month ago."
Draco rolled his eyes when his mother looked away. This was just what he fucking needed. An introduction to another Narcissa Malfoy-approved pure-blood witch for him to consider as a potential bride. He'd barely been home twenty-four hours and already...fuck!
He stopped in his tracks and stared openly.
A drop-dead gorgeous witch in immaculately tailored pink robes was sitting at their dining room table, blue eyes looking bored while she sipped her tea demurely.
They locked eyes from across the room and she perked up instantly, no longer looking bored. She coyly flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and shot him a smirk, eye fucking him shamelessly.
His cock twitched in his trousers.
Perhaps he could try to behave himself for the duration of breakfast. Get her alone when they were done in here. Ruck up that pretty dress of hers and...
"Draco, you remember Mrs Avery, I'm sure?" His mother interrupted his lascivious thoughts.
Of course, he remembered...
He'd come across his father screwing Mrs Avery on their grand piano one night during a Christmas party here at the Manor. And Mr Avery was locked up in Azkaban these days. Right along with his father and some of the other Death Eaters. He was one of the sick bastards who liked to torture and rape muggle women. How the fuck could he forget them?
"This is their daughter I was just telling you about. Teagan Avery," his mother introduced the young witch.
Draco politely greeted Mrs Avery first, before taking Teagan's hand and kissing the back of it with just a brief flick of his tongue against her skin.
She tasted like sex.
And he wanted...
His month in Azkaban had been lonely.
xxx
"I'm sorry," Draco shook his head, confused. "I must be hallucinating because I swear you just said you're dating Potter."
"Yes, you heard correctly," Theo nodded and folded his arms over his chest defensively, affording him a peevish look.
"As in Harry Potter? Golden boy and saviour of the wizarding world? Arrogant, dark-haired and bespectacled, with that stupid lightning scar on his forehead?" Draco asked, taken aback. "That Potter?"
"Sod off, Draco," Theo snapped and got up from his chair, heading for the door.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Draco called out to stop his friend from leaving. He grimaced when Theo sneered at him over his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he sighed, "It's none of my business who you date. Even if it is Potter. A Gryffindor."
Theo lugged a cushion at him, hitting him square in the face. "Don't be a dick! You've screwed tons of Gryffindors, but when I find one that I like as more than just a one-night stand, you're suddenly against it."
"Gryffindors are fantastic shags, mate. I know that." Draco conceded, "But they're to be treated with caution because they have these weird things called 'feelings'," he air quoted and feigned a shudder. "They are the hearts and flowers type. They want commitment. Monogamy. And I've certainly learned that the hard way."
"Just because you don't need an emotional connection, it doesn't mean other people don't," Theo said warily, taking his seat again. "Besides, Harry and I are keeping things casual. No commitments or I love you's. But we are trying our hand at monogamy."
Draco scrunched his nose in disgust.
"Theo, dear!" Narcissa exclaimed with delight as she swept into the parlour looking the picture of wealth and grace.
Draco and Theo stood politely.
"It's wonderful to see you", she beamed. "I just came by to tell Draco that his father and I are headed out to the Greengrasses for the evening." She pecked Draco on the cheek. "Shall I ask Looksy to prepare a room for you?"
"Please," Theo tipped his head in thanks. "I would appreciate that. We're planning on having some fun ourselves tonight to celebrate Draco's birthday. We're just waiting on Blaise and Pansy."
"Wonderful." His mother nodded her approval. "Enjoy your evening. We'll see you later."
xxx
"Your parents have been spending a lot of time with the Greengrasses lately," Theo noted offhandedly from around a cigar later that evening while he rearranged the cards in his hand. "Does your mother know your father is fucking Mrs Greengrass?"
"She's probably fucking Mr Greengrass," Draco explained. "Otherwise she wouldn't be as eager to spend so much time with them."
"So...what..." Pansy scowled, "They just go over there, swap partners and head off to their respective rooms for some fun between the sheets?" She looked appalled.
"I'm sure there's a little more theatrics to it, but essentially, yes," Draco nodded and picked up a card, adding it to the others in his hand. He wasn't off to a good start with their card game tonight. "They probably have dinner first, get a little drunk, and then get on with their night."
"Does it not bother you?" Pansy gaped, affronted by his indifference.
"Why should it? It's their marriage. Besides, it's the way it's always been done. Usually just with a little more discretion, but if both parties are willing to partake, I suppose discretion is irrelevant." Draco looked up at Pansy for a moment, assessing her narrowed blue eyes and the tight set of her jaw. She seemed tense. "What's up with you tonight, anyway? You're particularly testy."
"Astoria and Daphne have no idea about their parents' 'activities'. They're under the impression that their parents are happily married."
"Then they're just fucking stupid," Blaise snorted. "Show me one married pure-blood couple who's monogamous and happy about it, and I'll stop sleeping around."
"The Weasleys," Pansy supplied sourly.
"Doesn't count," Theo shook his head and looked at Pansy from over his cards, "They're poor as shit. The only things they have worth holding onto are that bunch of kids and their marriage."
"Could you imagine having that many children?" Draco drawled. "Have they not heard of the potion or the contraceptive charm?"
"Apparently, they really wanted a daughter. That's why they didn't have more children after the girl was born," Theo explained.
"Now that's one fine piece of arse," Blaise said and puffed at his cigar. "I really wouldn't mind a round or two between the sheets with her. She looks like she'd be a riot in bed."
Draco slapped his hand of cards onto the table with a frustrated huff, folding again. "What the fuck is it with you and Theo tonight? Why are you going all soft for the Gryffindors?"
"They're fiery and wild, mate," Blaise grinned wickedly and winked. "Don't tell me you haven't shagged a Gryffindor before?"
"I have. And I don't get the hype. It's just sex, even if it's fantastic sex. But like I told Theo earlier, you need to be careful. They're the type who want love and commitment. So don't come crying to me when they expect a ring from you."
"So, you're saying you'd never consider having a casual fling with a Gryffindor? Spend a few weeks fooling around with just her?" Blaise asked curiously.
"No, of course not. Why would I need more than one night? I'm not dumb enough to play with fire. I like that I can have a little fun with a woman and then sod off back to my bed before they have time to pull up their knickers. No complications. No expectations. And absolutely no feelings."
"What about Granger?" Theo asked.
"What do you mean?" Draco asked distractedly, pouring himself another glass of firewhisky.
"You've never thought of having a fling with her?"
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Draco recoiled at the suggestion, narrowing his eyes at Theo. "Are you high?" He sniffed his whiskey. "Is the alcohol laced with something?"
"Just imagine how intense the sex would be," Blaise smirked, eyes glazing over as his imagination ran rampant. "Hate sex is always fantastic."
"Please," Draco rolled his eyes. "I'd probably choke Granger long before I could make her come. That fucking swot wouldn't know when to stop spewing useless information even when a dick slapped her in the face."
His friends laughed.
And he briefly wondered what Granger would look like with his hand covering her mouth to shut her up while he buried his cock inside of her.
He shook his head to rid himself of the image. He would never fuck someone as tight-arsed as Granger. She was not his type at all.
xxx
August 1998
"I heard you and Teagan Avery are getting married," Pansy said two nights before they were due to start their eighth year at Hogwarts.
Their gang of four were having dinner at an upscale restaurant to celebrate Pansy's birthday.
Draco's head snapped up, eyes narrowing at her. "Where did you hear that?"
Pansy smirked, "Teagan is friends with Daphne and Astoria, and she told them you spent a beautiful night in bed together after your mother invited them over to discuss a marriage contract."
"Congratulations, mate!" Blaise boomed facetiously and slapped a hand on his back, eyes twinkling with mirth. "I think it's great that you're engaged."
"Fuck off," he growled. "I didn't agree to anything close to marriage with her. It was breakfast. A casual meeting with Teagan and her mother. Maybe a nudge towards potential nuptials, but there were absolutely no contracts or proposals. As for the beautiful night in bed, I clearly recall no furniture being involved and it certainly wasn't beautiful. It was hard and fast and I came about a minute into the whole thing."
The table erupted with laughter and Draco flushed. "It's been a while, okay?" His brief encounter with Teagan had not been one of his finest moments. He'd been too horny and eager. And combined with her tight heat when he'd pushed her knickers aside and slipped inside of her, he'd found himself coming before he'd even gotten a chance to get her off too.
"So you're not marrying her?" Theo grinned.
"No," he shook his head emphatically, looking Theo dead in the eye. "I'd be a fool to tie myself down when there's so much fun to be had for my last year at Hogwarts."
"So?" Blaise shrugged. "Why would that stop you?"
"She's the clingy type," Draco grimaced. "She'd be visiting me at Hogwarts almost daily, and I don't want her bitching in my ear when she catches me going at it with another witch. I'm not ready to settle down yet."
"Cheers to that!" Blaise lifted his glass in a toast. "To sowing our oats."
"Gross." Pansy scrunched her nose and picked up her menu.
xxx
January 1999
It was a freezing night outside the castle walls, with an unsympathetic January wind slicing through his thick robes and woolly hat, making him feel ridiculous for choosing to be here, instead of warm in his bed.
He ignored the bone-deep cold, suppressed a shiver and pulled his robes tighter around himself. A thick white cloud escaped his mouth as he whispered the incantation to a warming charm he knew would last all of ten minutes before faltering in the harsh Scottish winter.
Thrusting a numb hand into the pocket of his robes, he pulled out a silver cigarette case and popped the case open with more trouble than he cared for as his hands shook from the cold. He slotted a cigarette between blue lips and lit the end with the tip of his wand, dragging in a blessed lungful of his vice. He blew out a thick gust of smoke in relief before stowing away the case. He watched the smoke drift away into the dark and let his mind wander to his altercation with Goldstein earlier today when a familiar voice made him jerk around in surprise.
"You know you're not allowed to be out after curfew, right?" Granger's know-it-all voice interrupted his thoughts. She walked up to him. "If Filch catches you..." She trailed off, leaving the implication of detention hanging in the frigid air between them.
Draco took a drag of his cigarette, holding Granger's gaze with an indifferent expression as he contemplated the different ways he could tell her to fuck off and leave him be when an idea struck. He blew out a lungful of smoke toward her disapproving face and watched with delight as she coughed and batted uselessly at the smoke. He smirked, unable to hide his satisfaction.
Malfoy - 1, Granger - 0
Served her right for thinking she could barge in and shatter his peace and quiet by stating the bloody obvious. He couldn't give a single fuck if he got caught and Granger would do well to mind her own bloody business. And yet, the fucking swot felt the need to continue.
"You know smoking is bad for your health, right?"
"No!" He gasped with feigned surprise. "What a fucking revelation." He shook his head in annoyance and pinched the bridge of his nose, counting to ten in his head to stop himself from throttling her. And then he looked back up at her with a mirthless smirk. This witch knew just how to make him want to strangle the life out of her. He'd spent countless hours during lessons daydreaming of locking his hands around her neck and just squeezing and squeezing until her annoying voice faded to blessed silence. Sometimes, when he looked over at the Gryffindor table to find her chattering obliviously with her fellow lions, he fantasized about her choking on her croissant or her eggs. And when he passed her in the halls while she eyed him haughtily, he dreamed of wiping that look off her face by casting a tripping jinx just so she'd smack her stupid face against the stone floors.
He cut her off with a scathing look when she opened her mouth again. He had absolutely no desire to hear her spew more useless information.
"I was just trying to help," she huffed indignantly and wrapped her arms around herself when a sudden shiver rippled through her.
She was such a tiny thing and she was dressed nowhere near warm enough for a frigid night like tonight.
Good...
Hopefully, that know-it-all tongue of hers would freeze to the roof of her mouth so he could have some well-deserved solitary peace as he'd intended.
"Why don't you just mind your own business and fuck off to your room to read a book or whatever it is you do for fun."
"Reading isn't all I do, you know," she stated matter-of-factly, looking mildly taken aback as if she didn't have her nose buried in a book on a semi-permanent basis.
"You know," he cocked a brow and took a punishing drag from his cigarette, blowing it in her direction once more. "I find myself at a loss for why you are still here. Have I been too subtle when I asked you to fuck off?" He asked, turning back to the Quidditch pitch in front of him. Granger was an infuriating little twat who lacked the subtle art of reading social cues, and she was encroaching on his alone time. All he wanted was to brood over his bad day in silence.
He was so tired of everyone in this fucking castle. Of every judgemental stare, the whispered slurs thrown his way, and of the younger students squealing and scattering in different directions when they saw him. All he wanted was to finish his N.E.W.T.s and get the hell out of Britain.
Not for the first time, he wondered why he hadn't opted to take his N.E.W.T.s at home. But just like every other time, he realized with a sinking stomach that it would mean staying in the Manor, where the Dark Lord had somehow tainted their family home with that evil brand of magic he'd been peddling.
Sometimes it felt like the darkness of what had transpired in the Manor had seeped into the very stone with which the house had been built. On particularly bad nights, he swore he could still hear Granger scream as she writhed and convulsed under aunt Bella's Cruciatus. Could still smell the blood Granger had shed on their drawing room floor while his aunt carved that ugly slur into her arm.
No. It was better this way. He would endure a thousand stares and insults before he ever went back to the Manor permanently. Christmas had been hard enough to endure. As soon as he finished his N.E.W.T.s, his inheritance would be released to him and he would buy himself a house far away from Wiltshire. Far away from England. He'd start over where nobody knew who he was. Finally find some semblance of peace, even if it meant embracing the change on his own.
Draco looked back at Granger when the sound of her clearing her throat pulled him out of his depressing thoughts.
"Why did you come back?" She asked softly, appraising him with curiosity. "If it makes you so unhappy to be here?"
Draco scoffed at her astute observation and felt his defences kick into high gear. She was veering into personal territory and it made him uncomfortable being seen by someone like her. "What makes you think I don't want to be here?"
She smiled at him, but it wasn't meant to be cruel or judgemental. Instead, it almost looked like pity, and he wasn't sure which was worse. "You're whole demeanour," she waved a hand about his person. "It practically screams how unhappy you are." She lowered her eyes in response to his scowl, shuffled her feet and chewed her lip for a moment. Then she lifted her eyes and stared back at him from under the thickest lashes he'd ever seen.
An annoying voice in the back of his head whispered the word 'beautiful', and without a second thought, he pushed it away. Her beauty was irrelevant. She was still painfully annoying.
"I'm fine, Granger," he finally answered, pushing the words out on the heels of a weary sigh. He wasn't sure that he liked how quickly she'd slipped between the cracks in his façade to see inside. "I'm not here to make friends. And I'm not here to apologize for anything, because I know it would never be enough to make up for what I did. Directly or indirectly." He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling wholly uncomfortable being this open with her. "I just want to finish my N.E.W.T.s so I can get as far away from everything as I can."
She hummed and nodded her agreement. Her gaze skittered over his face while she contemplated him, and then she exhaled a long, commiserating breath before taking a seat next to him. "I get it."
Apparently, she wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon...
Draco watched as she silently conjured a large glass jar and a bluebell flame that instantly brought them some much-needed heat, rubbing her hands together to warm up. At least her presence was good for something.
They remained silent for a long time, sitting side by side while he glanced at her from his periphery from time to time, trying to figure out her intentions for staying. She seemed oblivious to his presence, lost in thought while staring out into the night. When she spoke, her voice came out thick and wobbly, like she was fighting back tears. And instead of annoying him as he expected, he felt a pang of sadness for her; for everything she'd gone through because of him and the other Death Eaters.
"Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed with what happened. With how quickly we had to grow up. How we had to fight in a war at such a young age." She turned her head toward him, her eyes dancing between his own as she spoke. "Doesn't matter on which side we fought," she looked down again, kicking at a small stone that was halfway lodged into the frozen grass. "I honestly don't believe anyone came out unscathed."
Draco contemplated her words as he reached into his pocket for another cigarette. It was true. Vincent died. His father got locked up in Azkaban with all the other hardened Death Eaters. A lot of innocent people died—good people. And so many more were left with emptiness where there had once been family or friends. Came away with scars—physical and emotional—still trying to fight their way out of depression, trauma and despair.
"Could I have one as well?" Granger asked, nudging her chin at the hand that held the cigarette case. She flashed him a sheepish smile.
And for the first time in Salazar knows how long, he let out a genuine laugh from deep inside his belly, unable to hide his surprise. Well, well, well...would you look at Miss Goody-two-shoes.
Granger arched a brow impatiently, waiting for him to stop laughing at her.
That look forced another chuckle from him before he tried to school his features, clamping his lips together to keep his grin at bay.
"What?" She demanded with feigned annoyance. "I know you have something to say, so out with it."
He held open the cigarette case to her and watched as she picked one and slipped it between her lips before he finally spoke. "I thought," he swallowed a laugh that threatened, "It was bad for your health to smoke?"
"It is," she confirmed, trying hard to remain serious. A sly grin cracked her lips apart and a soft chuckle slipped out, giving her away. "As you said, I was merely stating the obvious. And I was wondering if a wizard such as yourself," she gestured towards him, "smoking muggle cigarettes, had any idea how bad they were for your health?" Another chuckle, this time harder. "I never actually said I didn't smoke, though. Did I?"
Granger lit her cigarette, took an impressive drag without coughing, and blew out a thick stream of smoke into his face. "Payback," she stated simply and took another drag.
"I sense there's a story here," he gestured toward the cigarette pressed between the index and middle finger of her right hand. "Or was smoking just something you decided to try one day and got addicted to?"
"No, nothing like that," she shook her head, tone light. "My grandfather used to smoke, and sometimes it smelled really good." She picked a piece of tobacco from her tongue, before continuing. "I guess when he died I sort of missed the smell, you know?"
"Mmhmm," Draco agreed distractedly, thinking back to his late grandfather. Abraxas Malfoy used to be a world-class shit. So he didn't have any good memories that made him miss the man. Cygnus Black, his grandfather on his mother's side, had been somewhat friendlier if his mother was to be believed, but since the old man had died when Draco was barely a year old, he didn't have any memories of the man.
"So when I find I really miss him, I buy myself a pack and smoke one or two." She continued. "The pack usually lasts me more than a year. And there was the odd joint here and there with Harry over the summer."
"I never would have thought you capable of smoking weed. You are just full of surprises, aren't you?" He said with a crooked smirk at her before he took a drag from his cigarette.
"Not really, no," she shook her head, not looking at him as she spoke. "You just have this preconceived notion of who I am, without actually knowing who I am."
"It's hard to believe otherwise when all I ever see is you bouncing up and down in your seat with your hand stuck in the air. Or your face hidden behind a book so often, that I'm amazed you've never actually fallen down a flight of stairs before."
"What makes you think I haven't?" She teased, grinning.
He barked a laugh in response and was suddenly quite taken aback that he'd never known how funny she could be. But then again, they'd never actually had any reason to spend time together. Never did tolerate each other very well. The only times they'd spoken, it had been to fling insults or curses at each other. Or in her case, dole out shockingly solid punches to the face.
And at the crack of dawn, with the sun barely making its appearance between thick grey clouds, Draco was still lying awake in his bed. He stared up at the canopy of his four posters, wondering why he suddenly felt so disconcerted after spending hours with Granger just talking and sharing a smoke until well past three in the morning.
After the initial rocky start to their evening together, it had been ridiculously easy talking to her. And weirder even was the fact that Granger somehow understood how he felt.
xxx
After their night out on the Quidditch pitch, Draco had tried his best to avoid Granger.
She, on the other hand, had taken to waving at him in the corridors between classes or looking over at the Slytherin table to smile at him, like she assumed they were friends now.
He didn't want to be her friend. He could barely stand her.
He'd briefly entertained the fantasy of a quick shag, pushing Granger up against a wall in one of the corridors. Or gagging her when she couldn't shut up in class, and watching as she choked on her screams when he pushed her into her desk and took her from behind. Or up against a bookcase in the library. Or on the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, just sweeping all the plates and goblets from the table. Watching her walk away afterwards with his cum running down her thighs.
Okay, so maybe briefly was a bit of an understatement.
Since the night they'd spent talking, he'd wanked to fantasies of her more times than he cared to admit, feeling ashamed but relieved every time. The fact was, for some crazy reason he couldn't stop thinking about her. And this didn't bode well for him.
So, he did what he did best—he distracted himself.
When Granger had finally started to get the message, avoiding eye contact with him when they bumped into each other between classes or during mealtimes, he'd thought he was in the clear. He'd ruthlessly cut off all fantasies of her. He'd stopped wanking altogether and resumed his casual dalliances with gusto, seeking out the company of as many willing witches as he could find, trying—and mostly succeeding—not to imagine Granger when he came each time.
The upside was that he no longer had to be scared of anyone finding out about his inappropriate daydreams of Granger, and he no longer felt like he was betraying his parents. But he should have known he couldn't avoid her forever.
Their next proper encounter happened in Herbology on a Tuesday afternoon at the beginning of February.
He wasn't counting the time Granger had caught him in the second-floor girl's lavatory while he was buried balls deep inside of Celesté Travers, or in the library, with his trousers around his ankles while Alessia Kershaw sucked him off.
Today they were helping Professor Sprout repot Devil's Snare, not strictly part of their N.E.W.T.s curriculum, but Sprout had needed the extra hands and their class was a little ahead in their lessons.
Professor Sprout had stepped out for a few minutes to tend to a tantruming Mandrake in the greenhouse next door and had left them to get on with their tasks. Draco was struggling with his plant, batting away a curling tentacle that tried to grab his timepiece when Granger's screams pierced the air.
He turned just in time to catch the commotion.
A thick tentacle from Granger's Devil's Snare wrapped around her torso and lifted her off the ground, tightening ominously to pin her arms against her sides.
"Oh shite, Hermione!" Finnegan shouted in alarm, fumbling with and dropping his wand in panic.
Draco shot out of his seat and walked over, fearing that Finnegan's clumsiness would result in Granger's death if he didn't intervene quickly.
"Do something, Seamus!" Granger cried, legs kicking and flailing while she tried to wriggle free. "Please!"
"Uhm," Finnegan scrambled to his feet, having finally retrieved his wand from under his workbench. "Which spell is it again?"
"Oh, for god's sake," Draco rolled his eyes and pushed the idiot out of the way and into some of the students who had started gathering to watch. If he left Finnegan to the task of rescuing Granger, she might just end up burnt to a crisp or blown up and scattered in pieces across the floor of the greenhouse.
"Lumos Solem!" He shouted over all the panic, pointing his wand straight at the thick tentacle. A blinding light burst from the tip of his wand and he had to shield his eyes with an arm while simultaneously trying to keep Granger in his sight. But the effect of his spell was instant.
She dropped to the floor with an oof! and a squeak, landing squarely on her arse as the tentacle released her and retreated rapidly.
Thank Merlin.
This could have turned ugly very quickly if he hadn't intervened when he did.
"What's wrong with you, Seamus?" She-Weasel growled and punched him in the shoulder with enough force that he stumbled. "Jesus. How do you not know the spell to ward off Devil's Snare?"
Draco shook his head at the dolt, walked closer to Granger and knelt beside her, doing a quick circuit of her person. Other than a tear in her robes and curly hair that was even wildered now, she appeared to be relatively unharmed.
"Are you alright?" He asked and tried to get a look at her injuries, pulling her robes aside.
She pushed his hands away, blushed and looked down, still avoiding him just like he'd wanted. "I'm fine. Other than some bruising to my arse, ribs, and pride, I'll survive."
She-Weasel finally made an appearance after thoroughly assaulting Finnegan. She, too, inspected Granger for any obvious injuries, and quickly glanced at him as she asked, "Do we need to take you to Madam Pomfrey?"
"No, no," she waved off the redhead's concern. "I have some bruise paste up in my room. A dab of it tonight should do the trick."
"I think you should go to the Hospital wing, Hermione," Weasley insisted, running her hand over Granger's hair in a failed attempt at taming the riotous curls.
"Or at least go and lie down," he suggested, "I'm sure Red wouldn't mind making the necessary excuses for the rest of your classes."
"Not at all," Weasley agreed, affording him a grateful smile for some reason.
"Right," he nodded awkwardly, feeling confused by the whole situation. By his concern for Granger, and his easy interaction with the redhead. "I should go." He pushed himself up from the floor, dusting off his trousers. "Or do you need me to help you to your room?"
"No!" Granger exclaimed loudly, eyes widening with panic. She cleared her throat and tried again in a softer voice, a flush of embarrassment staining her cheeks a pretty pink. "No, thank you, Malfoy. I'll manage."
"Okay," Draco shrugged and turned away, walking back to his table where a smirking Blaise awaited him.
"That was some first-class avoiding you were doing over there," his friend nodded his head in the direction of Granger and Weasley.
"Oh, sod off!" He growled, grabbed his repotted Devil's Snare (thanks to Blaise's help) carried it over to the side tables assigned for all the repotted plants and put it down a little harder than he'd intended to.
When he returned, Blaise was biting his cheek and his eyes twinkled slyly, but he wisely refrained from saying anything further on the Granger matter. Instead, he asked, "Do you perchance know if Little Red is seeing anyone at the moment? I think I got a hard-on just watching her punch Finnegan."
xxx
Draco and Blaise found Weasley in the Great Hall that evening on their way out after dinner.
"How's Granger doing?" He asked, cornering her before he regretted what he was about to do.
The redhead narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, "Why do you want to know?"
Why could Gryffindors never take things at face value where Slytherins were involved? Why did there always need to be a deeper meaning or agenda? "Just curious," he shrugged. "Thought I'd check in on her after what happened this morning."
"She won't tell you where Granger's room is, mate. I told you this already. Gryffindors have codes of honour, secret pacts and things like loyalty," Blaise interjected with a smirk, knowing his strategy would likely piss Weasley off and get her to reveal where they could find Granger.
"Excuse me?" She crossed her arms and glared at Blaise. "Don't pretend like you know my mind. I just don't want brooding blond over here to be a dick to her. She's got enough shit to deal with," her eyes jumped to Draco and she tipped her head to the side, scrutinizing him with narrowed eyes.
Draco stared back, waiting for Weasley to make up her mind.
She didn't blink.
And Blaise was enjoying this way too much from the sidelines.
Draco's eye twitched but he didn't look away.
Weasley still didn't waver. Perhaps she was waiting for some kind of verbal reassurance from him.
"Fine," Draco relented with an exasperated sigh and an eye roll. "I promise not to be mean to her. I just want to see if she's okay."
"Why, though?" She questioned, still suspicious, "You've never given a shit about her wellbeing before. Why the sudden concern?"
"Yes, Draco," Blaise added with a devious grin. "Tell Little Red why you're suddenly so interested in Granger's wellbeing. I'm sure she'd find it a riveting story."
"Don't call me that," Weasley muttered, glaring at Blaise.
"Because," Draco gnashed his teeth and elbowed Blaise in the ribs, "I saw how hard the Devil's Snare had wrapped its tentacle around her. I just need to make sure the bruise paste will be enough. That the damage wasn't too extensive."
Weasley cocked a brow. "You're not going to make me regret this, are you?"
"I won't," he promised in earnest.
"Fine," she relented with a huff. "I'll show you where her room is, but I'm not taking the punishment for it. Just be vague if she asks you how you knew where her room was. Zabini and I will wait for you right outside. And if I hear anything that worries me, I swear I will cut off your favourite appendage and feed it to Hagrid's dog."
Draco barked a laugh and nodded, "Fair enough."
Weasley led them up the stairs and through the corridors, past the prefects' bathroom to a more secluded area with only one door. He would never have noticed there was a door here if she hadn't pointed it out to him. "Now, behave yourself," she warned, pointing a finger at him. And then she grabbed Blaise and moved away from the door and out of sight.
Draco took a deep breath, lifted his hand and rapped a knuckle against the door three times. After a few seconds, he could hear a shuffle of feet and the click of a lock, and then the door swung open to reveal Granger.
Her mouth dropped open in shock when she saw him. "What are you doing here?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Coming to see if you're alright," he said as casually as he could muster and pushed past her into her room.
The living room and small kitchenette were painfully tidy, just how he'd imagined it would be for a swot as supercilious as Granger. He was pretty sure she was a control freak, maybe even obsessively so. The room was decorated with slight accents of red and gold—just a subtle nod to her Gryffindor house—and one end of her bed was unmade.
"I'm fine," she watched him calculatingly as he inspected her room. "There was no reason for you to drop by. Honestly."
He put the framed photo of her with Potter and Weaselby back on the mantle of her small fireplace and turned to face her. "Show me the bruises," he challenged, knowing the bruise paste could not have been effective enough to remove all traces of injury so quickly.
"No!" she recoiled, gasping her surprise. "I'm not showing you anything."
"Oh, come now, Granger," he rolled his eyes at her, "I'm not here for anything nefarious. Just show me where you got hurt and I promise I'll be on my way again."
"I told you I'm fine. Just go, please? I can look after myself."
"Fine," he said and afforded her a challenging look. He'd known beforehand that she'd never simply cave to his request. This was Granger after all. "If you want to be stubborn," he advanced toward her. "I'll just have a look for myself."
"You wouldn't..." She challenged but took a step backwards, her confidence faltering.
"Wouldn't I?" He tipped his head to the side, watching her with a defiant stare and took another step toward her.
"Malfoy..." She pleaded. "Don't. I said I'm-"
"You're fine. Yes, I heard you. But I'm not convinced. I was there when the Devil's Snare almost crushed you, remember? Now, just show me the bruises. And then I'll be out of your hair."
She stood rooted to the spot, contemplating his request. He could see the cogs in her mind turning as she tried to work out his intentions. And then her hand slipped to the hem of her shirt, fingers curling around the material. She lifted it slowly up until her stomach and ribs were exposed to him.
He hissed when he saw the thick purple bruise curled around her body in the shape of a tentacle. It looked bad, but he'd expected worse. Perhaps the bruise paste had started working after all.
She watched warily as he walked closer to her and kneeled in front of her to inspect the damage. Her breath hitched and then stopped altogether, goosebumps erupting over her skin where he traced a finger gently over the thick stretch of bruising around her middle, and her eyes were squeezed shut when he looked up at her.
He swallowed thickly, confused and shaken by the way his stomach clenched at the way she responded to his touch. "How many times have you applied the paste?" He murmured and her honey eyes popped open at the question.
She searched his face for a beat before sucking in a shuddering breath, "I...twice," she whispered.
Draco pushed up onto his feet and nodded his head toward her bed. "Go lie down. I'll put on some more."
She stiffened instantly, her defences snapping back into place. "That's quite alright, Malfoy," she tugged her shirt back down with a wince. "I can do it myself."
"Can you, for once in your life, not make things so difficult?" He growled his frustration at her. "Just do what I tell you."
"Don't try anything funny," she warned with a heavy scowl and a pointed finger.
He chuckled despite himself. "Don't worry, witch. I won't try to fuck you. You're not my type at all."
She looked affronted for a moment but quickly locked it away behind a mask of indifference, tipping her chin indignantly and squaring her shoulders. "And you're not my type either. I don't like cocky, temperamental blonds who can't keep it in their pants long enough to check out a book at the library."
"Good," he smirked. "Then we're on the same page."
She rolled her eyes, but turned around and headed over to her bed.
He followed behind her and watched as she ironed out the duvet on her side, and settled onto the bed with her legs stretched out in front of her. "How do you want me?" She asked, and he almost choked. She looked completely innocent, and he realized that this witch had no idea how her question sounded.
But his cock twitched in response to her question, even though she wasn't his type. He preferred his lovers fairly submissive and without a stick up the arse, but he wasn't made of steel.
The way she looked right now with a blush staining her cheeks, eyes wide, small tits pushing against the white cotton of her shirt and shapely legs exposed without the usual modest school robes to cover her up made his cock harden involuntarily. He wasn't blind to womanly curves, even if it was Granger's.
It didn't mean he wanted to screw her.
He cleared his throat and wracked his brain for something unpleasant that would make his inappropriate erection wither, grateful that his robes shielded his crotch. She would never let him live this down if she saw how he was responding to her.
Dead Crups
Dead Crups
Dead Crups
"Malfoy?" She asked, watching him intently.
"Err. Yes, right," he forced himself to focus on the reason for him being here, instead of on the witch lying on the bed, looking all kinds of inviting. "Turn onto your left side first, I think. The right side seems worse."
She flipped to her side and his eyes locked on her legs as he proceeded toward her bed. She handed him the paste and their fingers brushed briefly.
And his fingers didn't burn from her touch.
It didn't.
The bed dipped on his side when he took a seat next to her and he swallowed uncomfortably, reaching for her shirt. He carefully pulled it up on one side to expose her bruises, and her breath hitched in response, more goosebumps skittering across her flesh.
And fuck...he was painfully hard now.
He subtly dragged air into his lungs to temper his response and clenched his jaw.
Focus Draco.
He popped open the lid and scooped out a generous amount of paste, set the tin down next to him and carefully spread the shiny paste over the bruises.
Granger dragged in a deep breath, ribs fluttering below the delicate skin as her chest expanded on a sharp inhale.
His eyes were glued to the exposed skin on display for him, counting every dip in the ladder of her ribs as it stretched up her side and disappeared under her white school shirt, and he wondered what she would look like naked. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, desperately chasing his normally solid composure. And when he finally opened his eyes again, he studiously focused on the bruise that covered a great deal of her side.
He tried not to think about what he was doing as his fingers dragged the paste over the silky skin of her ribs, taking care not to hurt her. "If you're not significantly better in the morning," he murmured, "you need to visit Madam Pomfrey. It could be a broken rib."
"Okay," her voice cracked, sounding breathless.
Draco coaxed her carefully onto her back and pushed against her hip once in a silent request for her to stay still so she didn't smear the paste on the duvet. And then he leaned over her to repeat the same care to her left side, spreading the paste just as carefully over her skin, a slight tremble to his fingers.
Why was he responding to her like this? As if he'd never seen a woman's body before. As if he'd never touched and kissed skin before. This was Granger, for fuck's sake. Not some sexy little witch that he wanted to bury himself inside of. And yet, her tiny waist, delicate ribs and soft, warm skin were making his resolve crumble. It was opening up a whole slew of new images that would feed his secret fantasies of her later tonight. Maybe even for the next week.
But fuck...he couldn't go back to wanking to images of her.
Not again.
She was a stuck-up swot. Annoying. And she had ridiculous hair. He did not find her sexy, at all.
He didn't.
"Right," he pulled her shirt down and put the lid back on the paste. "That should do it, for now, I think." He hastily got up from the bed, dropped the paste next to her on the bedside table and turned away so she couldn't see how turned on he was. "Just try to get some rest."
"Thanks," she said and pushed up onto her elbows, watching him with drowsy lids hanging low over her honey eyes.
And this was wholly uncomfortable. He needed to get the fuck out of here right now. "See you, Granger," he greeted her as he took large strides away from her, not daring to look back. He yanked the door open roughly, and almost tripped in his haste to escape and shut the door behind him with a soft click.
He dragged in a desperate lungful of sobering air that wasn't saturated with the scent of Granger and leaned back against the wood. He dropped his head and expelled his tension through a long exhale. This had been a mistake. A huge fucking mistake. He should have minded his business. He shouldn't have come to her room to check on her. Shouldn't have touched her.
And then his head snapped to his right at the sound of a low moan, finding Blaise pressed against Weasley just a few feet away in a dark corner.
"Seriously?" He barked at the two and scowled darkly. "I leave you for fifteen minutes and this is what happens?"
With a smirk, Blaise slipped his hand out from under Weasley's skirt and wiped it on his trousers, not looking embarrassed in the least. He took a step back but his eyes remained on the flustered redhead before him.
Weasley at least had the decency to blush.
"We're not done," Blaise said, shooting a lascivious wink her way. "I'll see you around, Little Red. And then we'll finish what we started."
"I told you not to call me that," she huffed and straightened her skirt and white blouse. "Also, I can assure you it won't be happening again," she told him with a look of indifference. "I was bored, and you were here..." And then she walked away without another glance in Blaise's direction.
"Thanks for the cock block, man." He growled at Draco and stared after her like a lost puppy. "Five more minutes and I could have had my-"
"Don't." Draco cut him off peevishly. He had no desire to hear what exactly would have happened. "Let's just get out of here. I need a drink and a shag. In no specific order."
"Any particular reason for that?" Blaise eyed him curiously as he buttoned up the top two buttons on his school shirt and straightened his silver and green tie. "I thought maybe you and Granger would try your hand at dating. Or even just a fling."
"Nope. She's not my type," he denied forcefully, rolling his shoulders to get rid of the tension while they made their way back to their rooms.
"Then why did you come here tonight?" Blaise turned his head to look at Draco, brown eyes probing and confused. "What were you trying to achieve?"
"I don't know, mate," he sighed and shook his head at himself. "It was a stupid idea."
Blaise's only response was a skeptical hum.
"And what exactly were you trying to achieve with Weasley tonight?" Draco asked, arching a brow. "I told you Gryffindors are to be treated with caution."
"Yes, well, I told you I wanted to find out what she was like in bed. And Merlin help me, I won't rest until I have my answer. I have a feeling she'd going to blow my mind."
xxx
Draco was sitting in the Three Broomsticks with Pansy, Theo, and Blaise when the doorbell chimed and Granger walked in.
His stomach flipped and he choked on his butterbeer as if he'd never seen a woman in denims before. Granger was wearing black suede heels with pointed toes, a very, very tight pair of blue denims, and a red top that was open at the back, which she revealed when she casually shrugged out of her coat.
His mouth watered at the sight of her.
She didn't notice them as she walked in. Or maybe she chose to pretend that she didn't. Either way, he couldn't seem to look away.
"Is that Granger?" Blaise leaned in, whispering conspiratorily, eyes shining with interest. "Did you know she was hiding all of that," he waved his hand in her general direction, motioning to her body, "under all those frumpy layers of school robes?"
Draco shrugged casually, pretending he was just as surprised as Blaise. Like he didn't get a peek the other night when he'd rubbed bruise past all over her alluring skin. But her tight little arse in those denims, however, was something he hadn't seen before. "How would I know?"
"Yeah, Blaise," Pansy piped up deviously. "How would Draco know? It's not like he's been sneaking peeks at her at the dinner table or in the corridors on the way to class whenever he thought we weren't looking."
"I don't sneak peeks at her," he denied forcefully, knowing it was a lie.
But he wasn't pining after her or anything. He was just...fantasizing. What eighteen-year-old wizard didn't have sexual fantasies? He was a guy. She was a girl. It was bound to happen.
"Of course, you don't," Theo agreed with a patronizing nod, "She's not even your type."
"Right," he agreed with a sharp nod and indicated a hand in her direction. "Look how short she is. And that hair—sometimes I wonder if it's sentient."
Blaise feigned concurrence, and shot him a mischievous smirk, "Yes, she's definitely nothing to look at." And then he wink at Theo, who chuckled.
"Well," Pansy said casually, eyes on her hands while she tapped out a rhythm with long ruby nails, "That guy next to her at the bar seems to disagree with you."
All three men looked up in unison, watching as a guy leaned into Granger to whisper something in her ear.
Draco watched as Granger's eyes widened and her mouth fell open. She recoiled, looking scandalized by whatever the bloke had said to her.
He frowned and straightened up in his chair, not liking that the wizard in question was making her uncomfortable. "Who the fuck is this guy?" He asked his friends. "Do we know him?"
"Isn't he McLaggen?" Pansy asked. "Conner or Colby? That Gryffindor twat who tries his luck with anything that has a vagina and two legs?"
"Cormac," Theo pursed his lips. "He was the one who tried to snog Granger at one of Slughorn's parties in sixth year."
"How do you know this?" Pansy asked, surprised.
"I hear things," Theo grinned. "I have eyes and ears everywhere."
"Are they an item?" Blaise asked, watching them openly over his shoulder.
Draco wanted to know this, too. But he couldn't be the one asking, or his friends would have a field day. They already suspected he paid Granger more mind than he should, and he needed to do a better job of hiding his ridiculous attraction to her.
"I don't think so, no," Theo supplied. "As far as I know, she doesn't like him very much."
"Oh look..." Pansy drawled, watching Granger and McLaggen with feigned indifference. "He's got his hand on her arse now. And I think she might just-"
There was an almighty crack, and McLaggen staggered back, red-faced and holding his cheek. "Fucking bitch!" He spat at Granger.
And Draco was already out of his chair, striding over toward them to...what? What exactly was he planning to do? But he did know that McLaggen was going to lose a hand if he didn't stop harassing Granger.
"I said no," Granger growled, glaring murderously at the wizard before her.
"Is there a problem here?" Draco interrupted as he sidled up next to an irate Granger, shooting McLaggen a withering look. "Colby was it?"
"It's Cormac," he snapped and straightened up, squaring his shoulders in an attempt at asserting his dominance. Which was laughable. Draco was at least a head taller, and a little more defined muscle-wise. It was clear that Cormac hadn't taken to a broom in a while. "And you'd be wise to mind your bloody business."
"She is my business," Draco bit out, eyeing the scumbag with disdain. "And you'd do well to keep your hands off of her before I break off every single finger on that offensive hand of yours and send them to your mother in a box with a pretty red bow."
McLaggen sneered, "She's all yours, man." He pointedly eyed Hermione up and down. "She's too frigid for my tastes anyway. Good luck getting her to put out for you."
Draco pulled back his arm, hand curled into a fist, ready to strike when a head of curls flashed in his periphery and another crack sounded, louder this time.
"Fuck!" McLaggen roared and cupped his nose, blood dribbling out from under his hand, dripping steadily onto his crisp blue shirt. "What's the matter with you, Granger?"
"Right, out with you, mister!" Madam Rosmerta ordered as she bustled over to them, looking furious. "Out, now!" She grabbed a bleeding McLaggen by the ear and proceeded to lead him out the door. "I've had just about enough of you harassing my clientele every weekend. Consider this your last call to my pub."
"Are you alright?" Draco asked, turning to Granger as she shook out her hand, cursing under her breath.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just hurts."
She wasn't looking at him, and his fingers itched to tip her chin up so he could see those alluring honey eyes. "I thought you of all people would be used to it," he said instead and took her injured hand in his, dragging his thumb over the split skin of her knuckle. He tapped his wand against her skin, cast a silent healing spell and flicked his eyes back up to watch her. "Since you make a habit of punching guys."
"For the record," she smirked and finally looked up at him. His heart stuttered. "He was only the second guy I've punched. And the first was five years ago," she eyed him pointedly and pulled her hand away from him. "So I may have forgotten how much it hurts."
Draco chuckled, finding her amusing. "Come on, Granger," he tipped his head in the direction of his table, "I'll buy you a drink. You certainly deserve one after that performance."
"Oh, no," she waved away his offer with discomfort. "I don't want to intrude. You guys seemed like you were having fun before I came along and spoiled everyone's day."
So she had noticed them when she came in.
"Please, I insist," he persisted and steered her toward his table of friends with a hand on her exposed back. Her skin was warm and soft, and she smelled really good. "It's practically my duty to buy you a celebratory drink."
He knew this was a mistake. He knew he shouldn't be inviting her to his table, but he found he was unable to stop himself.
They paused at the round table in the far corner of the bar and all three of his friends looked up with open intrigue. "Granger, you remember Pansy, Theo, and Blaise, I'm sure?"
"Uhm, yes," she nodded awkwardly. "I do."
"Nice job with that punch, Granger," Pansy smirked and motioned to the open chair next to her, "Take a seat."
"Thanks," Granger accepted and sat down, looking adorably awkward sitting between a bunch of Slytherins.
"What can we get you?" Pansy asked, lifting a hand to wave down the barmaid.
"It's fine. I can get my own drink," she protested.
"Nonsense. You're not paying after that spectacular display back there," Blaise jerked his head over his shoulder toward the bar. "You didn't even give Draco a chance to defend your honour. You just went right ahead and decked Colby."
"Cormac," Theo and Granger corrected simultaneously.
"So, why exactly is it that Draco felt the need to defend your honour tonight?" Pansy asked while Draco proceeded to order a round of firewhiskies from Madam Rosmerta, hoping Granger didn't want a butterbeer. "I don't recall you two getting along either."
"Coincidentally, didn't you happen to punch him too?" Theo interjected with a diabolical grin, "When was it, fourth year?"
"I did, yes. In our third year," Granger dragged her teeth over her bottom lip to suppress a grin, "He was being a prat."
"He's still a prat," Blaise pointed out. "It wasn't just third year."
"I'm right here, you know," Draco scowled.
"We didn't notice. Sorry, darling," Pansy quipped and winked at Granger.
"He's going to start sulking, isn't he?" Blaise asked with a chuckle.
"I'm not sulking," Draco said and accepted the drinks from Madam Rosmerta, sending out the glasses to their respective recipients.
"So, what brings you to a pub, alone, on a Saturday afternoon?" Theo asked, leaning back with arms crossed over his chest, watching Granger intently. "I'm sure it wasn't your intention to pick up guys like McLaggen."
"It wasn't my intention to pick up anyone, actually. I just felt a little stir-crazy and I needed to get out of the castle."
"Where are the rest of your usual gang then?"
Theo kept up the friendly interrogation as Draco merely watched on, losing himself in thought. He was trying to keep his distance, as per his original plan. And the interaction he'd had with Granger this afternoon was way more than he'd intended. Especially when she looked the way she did today, so fucking short, petite and sexy, all wild-haired and delectable.
He was not going back to wanking to fantasies of her. Not in those heels of hers that were quickly threatening to become new material for said wanking and fantasies...which there would be none of...at all. No wanking to images of Granger with her high-heeled feet wrapped around his hips as he...
"Draco," Blaise flung a cap from a butterbeer bottle at him, "Where did you go, mate?"
"What?" Draco asked, bewildered as he looked around the table to find all eyes on him. "I'm right here."
"Physically, yes," Blaise agreed, "But here," he tapped a finger against his temple," You were miles away. Care to share?"
Draco cleared his throat, doing his best to suppress a blush. "No thanks," he declined with a brisk shake of his head.
Theo's eyes twinkled deviously. The bastard always could read him pretty well.
Draco narrowed his eyes in response—a warning to cease whatever stupid idea was running through Theo's mind.
Granger knocked back the last of her firewhisky and set her tumbler down with a clack. She pushed her chair back and stood up. "Thanks for the drink, guys. But I need to be heading back."
"Yes. Fantastic idea," Draco agreed with a little more enthusiasm than he'd intended, feeling irritated and oddly disappointed that she was already leaving, yet very relieved at the same time. The longer he spent in her presence, the more vivid his imagination would be tonight when he wanked to images of her. Then he would be able to picture the smattering of tiny freckles over her nose. He'd wonder if there were more on her body that he hadn't discovered yet; perhaps a beauty mark or two on one of her inner thighs that he could trace with his tongue. It would feed his imagination—dish up images of her large doe eyes and the way she'd bite her lip when he made her come for him.
"Draco will escort you back to the castle," Pansy said, nudging him out of his fantasies. "Won't you, darling?" It wasn't a request.
And so, of course, he had no choice but to refuse. "Granger has two legs which brought her here on her own in the first place. I'm sure she'll manage."
"I'm sorry, Granger. I could have sworn Narcissa Malfoy taught this one some manners," Pansy inclined her head towards Draco and rolled her eyes, "Seems I was mistaken."
"It's fine," Granger waved it away, "As he said, I'll manage. Besides, we might just end up murdering each other on the way back. Better safe than sorry. Right?"
"That's not what I was worried about," Theo chuckled.
"Right," Blaise agreed with a devious grin. "It's that unresolved sexual tension between you two that's going to be the death of you. Not the Avada."
Pansy cackled in delight at this.
Theo smirked with amusement.
Draco scowled darkly, not impressed with his friends.
And predictably, Granger blushed, "There's no sexual tension between us." She shook her head decidedly, looking inordinately flustered. "Draco and I," she huffed and struggled to compose herself. Her mouth opened and closed without saying anything. And then, voice scratchy and low, "Just...there's no unresolved sexual tension, okay."
"Yes," Blaise nodded with feigned solemnity, "Absolutely no UST."
Draco didn't end up walking Granger back to Hogwarts. He'd stood his ground. Who cared what Granger or his friends thought, anyway? He knew distance was key. And spending a walk to the castle alone with her was a bad idea. Terrible. He had to refocus. Had to go back to ignoring her like before.
But why did he regret letting Theo walk her back, then?
A/N: Let me know what you thought. I will probably update weekly, depending on how busy my week is.