A/N- Mmm-kay, so it's nearly the butt-crack of dawn, and I have so much
work to do for my classes, but I don't want to do it. So instead, I'm
sitting in my basement on my laptop working on this story. Well, that and
daydreaming about my St John's U soccer boys. ::drool:: Again, apologies at
the length of time it took to put this out. I hope you guys think it's
worth it.
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Friday morning, and the house elves were busily working. Draco could smell it, wafting up slowly in the air, the bacon and eggs and the crisp toast. The aroma would make just about anyone want to sleep in comfortably, but Malfoy was preoccupied. He strode down the hall toward the library. Things had to be cleared up before his plan could continue.
After all, you can't ruin the reputation of a girl who won't go near you.
Draco cringed. He honestly hadn't thought she would listen in like that. But then again, this was Granger he was talking about. The girl knew more spells that Professor Flitwick. Her charm-work had put an all too large barrier in his path. Getting her forgiveness would not be easy. But asking for it wouldn't be either. He let out a grunt of disapproval, her words echoing in his head. 'I hope he rots in Azkaban!'
Draco's mind flooded with memories, reading spell books on his father's lap, sitting at the fireplace listening to stories of his family's past. 'Be proud, Draco!' Lucius had always said, 'I've given you a legacy like no other. A marvelous past, and a fantastic future.' He'd point to various portraits on the wall, and murmur to the little boy he carried, 'See that one, Draco? That's you're great-great-great. . .And they changed wizarding history. And you will do the same. You have their blood in your veins.'
Well, Draco had his father's blood in his veins too, and he'd be damned if he were about to feel ashamed of that. He was a pureblood wizard, strong as a thoroughbred horse, and with the wits of centuries behind him. The wits of his father. . .
His papa's court date was coming up soon. Draco was beginning to worry. He had seen the Daily Prophet, the gossip going around about the trial. It wasn't looking good. Draco knew his dad was in the wrong; the man had done a lot of horrible things, including a few to his wife and child. But that was his father. That was his blood. Draco couldn't just turn away from that. And he certainly wouldn't let someone get away with ruining his family name.
That strong-willed inspiration came just as Draco entered the library and spotted his prey. There she was, frazzle-haired and bent over a book by the restricted section, just where he knew she would be. It had been six days since he had last spoken to her, since she had told him off. And he had spent a lot of time and money figuring out a way to work his strategy out. Draco fingered the box inside his right pocket, and stared at the girl across the room. This would be a cinch. He started walking toward her, his strong steps making audible clacks on the floor of the empty room.
Hermione looked up at the noise and scowled. *What a wonderful way to start the day!* She thought to herself. She turned her head back down to the notes she was copying into her arithmancy workbook. Without looking up, she called to him coldly.
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
The ice in her voice was apparent. Draco nearly faltered in his response. "I. . .well, I want to explain myself."
"You lie." She put plainly, her eyes still focused firmly on her paper. Her quill was pressing down harder though.
"I won't this time." Draco lied.
"I thought I made myself clear." She still wouldn't look at him. He had to make her look at him. No progress would be made if she would not even visually acknowledge his presence.
"You did. But when have I ever listened to anyone's rules?" He saw a glimmer of a grin on her face, but she stared up at him with cool eyes. At least it was a start. "Mind if I sit down?" He motioned to the chair across from her.
"You're already here, I guess, and we all know you're impossible to get rid of. . .like a boil on the arse of humanity."
Draco nearly sighed as his sat down. *Tough audience.* He thought. He took a deep breath. This would take a great deal of acting to sound believable. But it was logical. And Granger really worked off logic. This would have to succeed. "I want to explain myself. I want to explain why I. . ."
"You called me a Mudblood." Hermione frigidly interjected.
Draco nodded, leaning his arms on his knees and folding his hands in front of him. "I did."
"Several times." She shot back angrily.
He nodded again, calmly. "I know."
"You're a bastard."
"I know."
"You. . .I beg your pardon?" Hermione said, taken aback.
Draco mentally crossed his fingers. If he succeeded in this, he would deserve an award. "I was so wrong to call you that. It's a terrible phrase, to tell the truth. Perhaps it's a bad habit, something that's always just been acceptable to throw around. That's the way I was raised, you know. People in my family, in my neighborhood, they just called anyone they disliked that. It comes as easy as calling someone an idiot. But I know that you are nothing of what that word means. I really know that now. You're so perfect, and you deserve much more than being called that. I am so, so sorry."
Hermione stuttered in shock. "But. . .I. . .Well what around Ron? And Harry?"
"What can I say? You know that we have never gotten along. Now, just because I'm interested in you, doesn't mean I'm interested in them."
"Understandable. But it doesn't mean you should still try to blast the brains out of my boyfriend's head."
Draco nearly cringed at the term boyfriend. Ron wouldn't know how to act like a boyfriend if the rules were branded on his arse. But that was beyond the point. Draco had to continue. "That's true. I was wrong in doing that. And for saying what I did to Harry. Really it was just to get him riled up, get him off his game." Draco shrugged dramatically. "Potter still got the snitch, so I guess it didn't work much, did it?"
Hermione smirked. Draco took this as a good sign and continued.
"And besides, we're trying to keep this secret, aren't we?" He waited for her nod. When she reluctantly agreed, he continued, pausing after each question to see if she was thinking. "Well, if it's supposed to be secret, wouldn't you think it would be obvious if suddenly I was nice to my 'enemies'? Or if I just stopped using the language that I am known for? Or if I was caught supporting one of my foes instead of my girlfriend? Not that I fancy her much as a girlfriend; she's more of a large bodyguard- stalker." He saw the dawn of recognition on her face. Yes, logic had worked in her mind. And damn it if he says it, a little bit of jealousy in those eyes at the girlfriend remark? This was a success, indeed! "You see my point?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, I see your point. I suppose it's best that everything is kept under wraps. But. . .oh, I don't know. It's really taken quite a toll. I just feel so guilty doing all this. Harry's all upset that I'm acting differently, and I'm out and out betraying Ron. Really deceiving him. . .both of them. . ."
"But they don't have to find out, if we play this right." Draco quickly interposed.
Hermione looked up at him from the corner of her eye. He smiled at her somewhat sneakily, suggesting their proposed misconduct. And try as she might to fight it, her stomach tied in knots. She couldn't resist him, or the secrecy of the whole arrangement. There was something so exhilarating, so exciting about the way he looked at her and the threat of getting caught. She had her own little love, one who was willing to show for her what others could never see. Secrets were bad, she had always been told that. But she didn't care at this moment. *Sometimes secrets are a good thing for people,* Hermione decided. *Sometimes it can change a bad day to a good day, and a good day to a great day. Because you know something nobody else will ever find out.* As much as Hermione wanted to tell her friends about what was truly making her act so different, she just looked at Draco and it seemed a little worth it. Hell, with those eyes and that smirk and those strong arms, it seemed a shit load worth it.
She smiled back at him, eyes showing a small bit of defeat. "Alright. We'll keep it private. No one needs to know. Are you happy now?"
Draco flashed her a toothy grin, something he was uncommon with. But his face glowed, and Hermione loved it. "Very. I've got to go. Crabbe and Goyle'll be looking for me. Fat lards are damn near lost without someone to tell them which shoe to put on first. But I want you to have this. I think it will make you happy too." Draco pulled out the box from his right pocket, and placing it in the middle of Hermione's open notebook, bent down and kissed her cheek. He could just about smell her perfume.
Draco quickly turned and left, pushing any feeling like that out of his head. He didn't care about silly things like her perfume. He had told himself that thirty times that morning. . .
Hermione watched him leave, his masculine body striding out with an air of confidence. The great oak doors swung closed behind him, and she was alone again in the large library. Looking down at the table, she eyed the gift suspiciously. She half expected it to be one of the Weasley Twin's practical joke gag gifts. She toyed with the box in front of her before finally working up the curiosity and courage to lift the smell lid.
Something flickered for a moment, but her eyes quickly adjusted to the light that hit the sapphire stones on the ancient looking necklace. Diamonds studded what appeared to be platinum, covering it so it glistened like morning snow. Small sapphire teardrops dangled in to a dip down to the center. There in the middle of the necklace was the most grandiose, stunning display of blue rock she had ever seen. Hermione lifted up the necklace in awe. That center sapphire had to be the size of her thumb knuckle, and a perfectly shaped teardrop as well, blue as the ocean itself. It was beyond stunning. It was perfection. It was hers. And he'd given it to her.
She noticed a little yellow parchment note at the bottom of the box. Unfolding it, she read the scrawl.
Hermione: For our little clandestine meetings. Tonight, if you'd like, or anytime hereafter. Just drop your quill in Potions for 'yes', and I will meet you that night in the second floor corridor. It's all up to you. All I ask is that you wear this. ~Draco
Hermione looked at the sapphire necklace dangling in her hand and smiled. The light hit the facets and reflected her joyful look a million times. She quickly fastened the clasp around her neck. The center tear fell right in the curve of her clavicle. Her hand immediately went up to the stone, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. Strangely enough, she felt special. This was her secret, her own little fantasy. And Ron and Harry need not know. After all, it doesn't affect them in the least what she does during her nighttime. And she would be keeping them occupied as best as she could.
She looked down at the note, the rich green ink impressed into the paper by a strong quilled hand. 'All I ask is that you wear this.' Hermione smiled to herself. *I wouldn't dream of wearing anything else. . .*
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Friday morning, and the house elves were busily working. Draco could smell it, wafting up slowly in the air, the bacon and eggs and the crisp toast. The aroma would make just about anyone want to sleep in comfortably, but Malfoy was preoccupied. He strode down the hall toward the library. Things had to be cleared up before his plan could continue.
After all, you can't ruin the reputation of a girl who won't go near you.
Draco cringed. He honestly hadn't thought she would listen in like that. But then again, this was Granger he was talking about. The girl knew more spells that Professor Flitwick. Her charm-work had put an all too large barrier in his path. Getting her forgiveness would not be easy. But asking for it wouldn't be either. He let out a grunt of disapproval, her words echoing in his head. 'I hope he rots in Azkaban!'
Draco's mind flooded with memories, reading spell books on his father's lap, sitting at the fireplace listening to stories of his family's past. 'Be proud, Draco!' Lucius had always said, 'I've given you a legacy like no other. A marvelous past, and a fantastic future.' He'd point to various portraits on the wall, and murmur to the little boy he carried, 'See that one, Draco? That's you're great-great-great. . .And they changed wizarding history. And you will do the same. You have their blood in your veins.'
Well, Draco had his father's blood in his veins too, and he'd be damned if he were about to feel ashamed of that. He was a pureblood wizard, strong as a thoroughbred horse, and with the wits of centuries behind him. The wits of his father. . .
His papa's court date was coming up soon. Draco was beginning to worry. He had seen the Daily Prophet, the gossip going around about the trial. It wasn't looking good. Draco knew his dad was in the wrong; the man had done a lot of horrible things, including a few to his wife and child. But that was his father. That was his blood. Draco couldn't just turn away from that. And he certainly wouldn't let someone get away with ruining his family name.
That strong-willed inspiration came just as Draco entered the library and spotted his prey. There she was, frazzle-haired and bent over a book by the restricted section, just where he knew she would be. It had been six days since he had last spoken to her, since she had told him off. And he had spent a lot of time and money figuring out a way to work his strategy out. Draco fingered the box inside his right pocket, and stared at the girl across the room. This would be a cinch. He started walking toward her, his strong steps making audible clacks on the floor of the empty room.
Hermione looked up at the noise and scowled. *What a wonderful way to start the day!* She thought to herself. She turned her head back down to the notes she was copying into her arithmancy workbook. Without looking up, she called to him coldly.
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
The ice in her voice was apparent. Draco nearly faltered in his response. "I. . .well, I want to explain myself."
"You lie." She put plainly, her eyes still focused firmly on her paper. Her quill was pressing down harder though.
"I won't this time." Draco lied.
"I thought I made myself clear." She still wouldn't look at him. He had to make her look at him. No progress would be made if she would not even visually acknowledge his presence.
"You did. But when have I ever listened to anyone's rules?" He saw a glimmer of a grin on her face, but she stared up at him with cool eyes. At least it was a start. "Mind if I sit down?" He motioned to the chair across from her.
"You're already here, I guess, and we all know you're impossible to get rid of. . .like a boil on the arse of humanity."
Draco nearly sighed as his sat down. *Tough audience.* He thought. He took a deep breath. This would take a great deal of acting to sound believable. But it was logical. And Granger really worked off logic. This would have to succeed. "I want to explain myself. I want to explain why I. . ."
"You called me a Mudblood." Hermione frigidly interjected.
Draco nodded, leaning his arms on his knees and folding his hands in front of him. "I did."
"Several times." She shot back angrily.
He nodded again, calmly. "I know."
"You're a bastard."
"I know."
"You. . .I beg your pardon?" Hermione said, taken aback.
Draco mentally crossed his fingers. If he succeeded in this, he would deserve an award. "I was so wrong to call you that. It's a terrible phrase, to tell the truth. Perhaps it's a bad habit, something that's always just been acceptable to throw around. That's the way I was raised, you know. People in my family, in my neighborhood, they just called anyone they disliked that. It comes as easy as calling someone an idiot. But I know that you are nothing of what that word means. I really know that now. You're so perfect, and you deserve much more than being called that. I am so, so sorry."
Hermione stuttered in shock. "But. . .I. . .Well what around Ron? And Harry?"
"What can I say? You know that we have never gotten along. Now, just because I'm interested in you, doesn't mean I'm interested in them."
"Understandable. But it doesn't mean you should still try to blast the brains out of my boyfriend's head."
Draco nearly cringed at the term boyfriend. Ron wouldn't know how to act like a boyfriend if the rules were branded on his arse. But that was beyond the point. Draco had to continue. "That's true. I was wrong in doing that. And for saying what I did to Harry. Really it was just to get him riled up, get him off his game." Draco shrugged dramatically. "Potter still got the snitch, so I guess it didn't work much, did it?"
Hermione smirked. Draco took this as a good sign and continued.
"And besides, we're trying to keep this secret, aren't we?" He waited for her nod. When she reluctantly agreed, he continued, pausing after each question to see if she was thinking. "Well, if it's supposed to be secret, wouldn't you think it would be obvious if suddenly I was nice to my 'enemies'? Or if I just stopped using the language that I am known for? Or if I was caught supporting one of my foes instead of my girlfriend? Not that I fancy her much as a girlfriend; she's more of a large bodyguard- stalker." He saw the dawn of recognition on her face. Yes, logic had worked in her mind. And damn it if he says it, a little bit of jealousy in those eyes at the girlfriend remark? This was a success, indeed! "You see my point?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, I see your point. I suppose it's best that everything is kept under wraps. But. . .oh, I don't know. It's really taken quite a toll. I just feel so guilty doing all this. Harry's all upset that I'm acting differently, and I'm out and out betraying Ron. Really deceiving him. . .both of them. . ."
"But they don't have to find out, if we play this right." Draco quickly interposed.
Hermione looked up at him from the corner of her eye. He smiled at her somewhat sneakily, suggesting their proposed misconduct. And try as she might to fight it, her stomach tied in knots. She couldn't resist him, or the secrecy of the whole arrangement. There was something so exhilarating, so exciting about the way he looked at her and the threat of getting caught. She had her own little love, one who was willing to show for her what others could never see. Secrets were bad, she had always been told that. But she didn't care at this moment. *Sometimes secrets are a good thing for people,* Hermione decided. *Sometimes it can change a bad day to a good day, and a good day to a great day. Because you know something nobody else will ever find out.* As much as Hermione wanted to tell her friends about what was truly making her act so different, she just looked at Draco and it seemed a little worth it. Hell, with those eyes and that smirk and those strong arms, it seemed a shit load worth it.
She smiled back at him, eyes showing a small bit of defeat. "Alright. We'll keep it private. No one needs to know. Are you happy now?"
Draco flashed her a toothy grin, something he was uncommon with. But his face glowed, and Hermione loved it. "Very. I've got to go. Crabbe and Goyle'll be looking for me. Fat lards are damn near lost without someone to tell them which shoe to put on first. But I want you to have this. I think it will make you happy too." Draco pulled out the box from his right pocket, and placing it in the middle of Hermione's open notebook, bent down and kissed her cheek. He could just about smell her perfume.
Draco quickly turned and left, pushing any feeling like that out of his head. He didn't care about silly things like her perfume. He had told himself that thirty times that morning. . .
Hermione watched him leave, his masculine body striding out with an air of confidence. The great oak doors swung closed behind him, and she was alone again in the large library. Looking down at the table, she eyed the gift suspiciously. She half expected it to be one of the Weasley Twin's practical joke gag gifts. She toyed with the box in front of her before finally working up the curiosity and courage to lift the smell lid.
Something flickered for a moment, but her eyes quickly adjusted to the light that hit the sapphire stones on the ancient looking necklace. Diamonds studded what appeared to be platinum, covering it so it glistened like morning snow. Small sapphire teardrops dangled in to a dip down to the center. There in the middle of the necklace was the most grandiose, stunning display of blue rock she had ever seen. Hermione lifted up the necklace in awe. That center sapphire had to be the size of her thumb knuckle, and a perfectly shaped teardrop as well, blue as the ocean itself. It was beyond stunning. It was perfection. It was hers. And he'd given it to her.
She noticed a little yellow parchment note at the bottom of the box. Unfolding it, she read the scrawl.
Hermione: For our little clandestine meetings. Tonight, if you'd like, or anytime hereafter. Just drop your quill in Potions for 'yes', and I will meet you that night in the second floor corridor. It's all up to you. All I ask is that you wear this. ~Draco
Hermione looked at the sapphire necklace dangling in her hand and smiled. The light hit the facets and reflected her joyful look a million times. She quickly fastened the clasp around her neck. The center tear fell right in the curve of her clavicle. Her hand immediately went up to the stone, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. Strangely enough, she felt special. This was her secret, her own little fantasy. And Ron and Harry need not know. After all, it doesn't affect them in the least what she does during her nighttime. And she would be keeping them occupied as best as she could.
She looked down at the note, the rich green ink impressed into the paper by a strong quilled hand. 'All I ask is that you wear this.' Hermione smiled to herself. *I wouldn't dream of wearing anything else. . .*