Chapter Three: Dry the Rain
Hermione led Draco upstairs to the bathroom, where she left him with fresh towels and dry clothes.
"Do you keep men's clothes around for any particular reason, Granger?" Draco asked in his snide way.
"I just like to be prepared," Hermione responded, blushing at his implication. It was true; Hermione kept spare clothes and pajamas for both sexes in case of emergencies. Harry, Ron and Ginny found them quite handy on the nights they didn't feel like (or were incapable of) going home. A simple alteration charm adjusted them to fit the wearer perfectly.
Draco watched her leave. She made a good point. Be prepared for anything, Draco. It was a lesson his father had tried to impart on him, one which Draco chose to ignore. He certainly hadn't been prepared for getting caught, being stripped of his powers and turning to a Mudblood for help. And not just any Mudblood, either: the one he despised above all others, because (though he'd never admit this to anyone), he saw her as almost his equal. If it weren't for that whole Mudblood thing, Draco would have met his match.
At Hogwarts, Hermione had been first in their year. Draco maintained it was because he never really paid attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Draco was the one doling out the Dark Arts (or at least thinking about it). He was never on the receiving end.
Still, Draco's grades were only slightly below Hermione's and were good enough to name him Head Boy to her Head Girl (No one was more shocked about this than Harry Potter, who thought he was a shoo-in on account of that Boy-Who-Lived crap). They were evenly matched in magical abilities. Her Bluebell fires were warmer and actually broke the school record for duration, but his Veritaserum accidentally made Blaise Zabini out himself as a Transvestite, whereas Hermione's only made Lavender Brown admit she had used an enlargement charm on her breasts, which everybody had already assumed.
Though Draco had it in for Potter from the beginning, he quickly learned Hermione was the real threat. Potter wouldn't have survived their first year if Hermione hadn't always nagged him to study and practice spells.
And then there were her looks. it was true, she'd gone through an awkward phase, but once she'd shrunken her teeth (I did her a favor really, so she owes me, Draco thought), she really had a pretty face. He remembered the Yule Ball in fourth year. He'd been sidling up to her, ready to sweep her off her feet, when she opened her mouth and he realized she wasn't some hot chick from Beauxbatons.
If Hermione had been a pureblood, she would have been Draco's perfect match. They were exactly the same and completely opposite. It was all too sordid for Draco to think about.
He folded his wet clothes because he was a meticulous prat. Draco had never used a Muggle shower before, but as he was quite clever, he quickly figured out how to adjust the 'hot' and 'cold' knobs. What he could not figure out was how to make the water come out of the showerhead. Right now it was coming out of the tub faucet and he sure as hell wasn't going to lie down in the tub to wash his hair. With an annoyed sigh, he called out, "Granger!"
Hermione entered the bathroom to the sight of Draco Malfoy's bare back bending over the bathtub with a towel slung loosely around his hips. When he turned around, Hermione had to look away. The towel was slung even lower in the front, leaving just enough to the imagination.
Below Malfoy's pointed face was a nicely toned, but not too muscular body, which Hermione respectfully did not stare at. Instead, she fixed her gaze to his left ear.
Draco was completely oblivious to the effect his indecent state might be having on Hermione. "Granger, how do I make the shower work? The water's only coming out the bottom."
Hermione tore her gaze away from his ear long enough to roll her eyes, then leaned over Draco to fiddle with the faucet. "It's really easy, see? You just pull this part under the faucet down and then the shower comes on," she instructed as the water came gushing from above.
When Hermione brushed past him, Draco caught a whiff of her hair. It was sweet and feminine and mesmerizing. He shivered slightly, suddenly remembering how cold he was. The door wasn't even completely shut behind Hermione when he retreated into the warm steam of the shower.
Hermione used the time Malfoy was in the shower to repeatedly remind herself that he was a right bastard. She drafted an owl to Ron, explaining her predicament, but thought better of it. After all, she was a powerful witch. There was nothing Ron could provide for her except a sense of security. And a big headache. A floundering Malfoy was enough to deal with. She didn't need Ron berating her as well. Besides, she already knew what he'd say.
"You let Malfoy into your home?! Malfoy, Hermione! He's evil! He could do something to you. He could hurt you or kill you or.. Do things!"
No, she wouldn't tell Ron. He'd just overreact. But when she closed her bedroom door that night, she sealed it with a Colloportus spell to be safe.
Hermione led Draco upstairs to the bathroom, where she left him with fresh towels and dry clothes.
"Do you keep men's clothes around for any particular reason, Granger?" Draco asked in his snide way.
"I just like to be prepared," Hermione responded, blushing at his implication. It was true; Hermione kept spare clothes and pajamas for both sexes in case of emergencies. Harry, Ron and Ginny found them quite handy on the nights they didn't feel like (or were incapable of) going home. A simple alteration charm adjusted them to fit the wearer perfectly.
Draco watched her leave. She made a good point. Be prepared for anything, Draco. It was a lesson his father had tried to impart on him, one which Draco chose to ignore. He certainly hadn't been prepared for getting caught, being stripped of his powers and turning to a Mudblood for help. And not just any Mudblood, either: the one he despised above all others, because (though he'd never admit this to anyone), he saw her as almost his equal. If it weren't for that whole Mudblood thing, Draco would have met his match.
At Hogwarts, Hermione had been first in their year. Draco maintained it was because he never really paid attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Draco was the one doling out the Dark Arts (or at least thinking about it). He was never on the receiving end.
Still, Draco's grades were only slightly below Hermione's and were good enough to name him Head Boy to her Head Girl (No one was more shocked about this than Harry Potter, who thought he was a shoo-in on account of that Boy-Who-Lived crap). They were evenly matched in magical abilities. Her Bluebell fires were warmer and actually broke the school record for duration, but his Veritaserum accidentally made Blaise Zabini out himself as a Transvestite, whereas Hermione's only made Lavender Brown admit she had used an enlargement charm on her breasts, which everybody had already assumed.
Though Draco had it in for Potter from the beginning, he quickly learned Hermione was the real threat. Potter wouldn't have survived their first year if Hermione hadn't always nagged him to study and practice spells.
And then there were her looks. it was true, she'd gone through an awkward phase, but once she'd shrunken her teeth (I did her a favor really, so she owes me, Draco thought), she really had a pretty face. He remembered the Yule Ball in fourth year. He'd been sidling up to her, ready to sweep her off her feet, when she opened her mouth and he realized she wasn't some hot chick from Beauxbatons.
If Hermione had been a pureblood, she would have been Draco's perfect match. They were exactly the same and completely opposite. It was all too sordid for Draco to think about.
He folded his wet clothes because he was a meticulous prat. Draco had never used a Muggle shower before, but as he was quite clever, he quickly figured out how to adjust the 'hot' and 'cold' knobs. What he could not figure out was how to make the water come out of the showerhead. Right now it was coming out of the tub faucet and he sure as hell wasn't going to lie down in the tub to wash his hair. With an annoyed sigh, he called out, "Granger!"
Hermione entered the bathroom to the sight of Draco Malfoy's bare back bending over the bathtub with a towel slung loosely around his hips. When he turned around, Hermione had to look away. The towel was slung even lower in the front, leaving just enough to the imagination.
Below Malfoy's pointed face was a nicely toned, but not too muscular body, which Hermione respectfully did not stare at. Instead, she fixed her gaze to his left ear.
Draco was completely oblivious to the effect his indecent state might be having on Hermione. "Granger, how do I make the shower work? The water's only coming out the bottom."
Hermione tore her gaze away from his ear long enough to roll her eyes, then leaned over Draco to fiddle with the faucet. "It's really easy, see? You just pull this part under the faucet down and then the shower comes on," she instructed as the water came gushing from above.
When Hermione brushed past him, Draco caught a whiff of her hair. It was sweet and feminine and mesmerizing. He shivered slightly, suddenly remembering how cold he was. The door wasn't even completely shut behind Hermione when he retreated into the warm steam of the shower.
Hermione used the time Malfoy was in the shower to repeatedly remind herself that he was a right bastard. She drafted an owl to Ron, explaining her predicament, but thought better of it. After all, she was a powerful witch. There was nothing Ron could provide for her except a sense of security. And a big headache. A floundering Malfoy was enough to deal with. She didn't need Ron berating her as well. Besides, she already knew what he'd say.
"You let Malfoy into your home?! Malfoy, Hermione! He's evil! He could do something to you. He could hurt you or kill you or.. Do things!"
No, she wouldn't tell Ron. He'd just overreact. But when she closed her bedroom door that night, she sealed it with a Colloportus spell to be safe.