Breaking Storm
Disclaimer: don't own characters, just the plot.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! And thanks to my new Beta Reader, Tiffany.
Sorry it took me such a long time to update.. I was sick, and I also needed inspiration to strike once again.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"What is it that you express through your eyes? It seems to me more than all the words I have read in my lifetime."
-Walt Whitman
+++++++++++
Chapter Five: Bright Eyes
Hermione had managed to escape from the dormitory again, not bothering to wait and see Harry or Ron. Her curls were plastered to the sides of her face, sopping wet. She hadn't had the time to perform a drying spell; once she heard Lavender stir, she had run out as fast as she could. She didn't need any more questions that she needn't answer, or any demands as to where she was going. She was going to the library; which was although very predictable from her, people still asked.
She had three books clutched to her chest, panting as she slowed down in the corridor. It was still dark; the halls empty and the torches were still lit, although they shone only dimly. She could feel the drops of her soaking hair seep through the shoulders and back of her shirt, her hands still trembling from the sudden cold that had washed over her. Her footsteps echoed through the corridor, bouncing neatly off the walls. She gripped her books tighter as she let out a ragged breath that slightly shook her body.
She walked down the vacant, dim corridor, her mind still persisting to think of someone else. Someone else other than the boy who managed to haunt her all this time, day and night. But as her footsteps rang through the hall, she could not help but feel her heart beating faster as she thought of him, and the way he looked at her.
Her heart started beating faster than when she had been out of breath.
His piercing silver eyes were dark and mysterious, hiding the truth that could never even be found. They were cloudy, but shone brightly to her, so brightly that her eyes would immediately fall on him in a crowded room.
And there their gaze would meet. She could still remember the cold, burning chills that traced through her skin and coursed through her veins. And the way the once firm and sturdy ground beneath the soles of her feet would seem to spin and sink in, eating her pleasantly until someone had snapped her back to reality, away from her reverie.
Or until he would look away. Which, she remembered she would plead, deep down in her heart that he wouldn't, that he would continue to look into her and let her get lost in his piercing gray, overcast eyes.
It always seemed to surprise her when she was the one to look away first, when deep inside in her heart she knew she never intended to. And never would, unless for reasons she knew she would never come across. She felt a rip of sadness tear through her. She sighed as she continued down the corridor to the library.
She crept in, assuming that no one was there, as always. The door squeaked as she tried to close it, the air in the library unusually sharp and cold. She turned and walked over to the shelves, scanning the sides of the books to locate the places of her borrowed books. She knelt down on her knees, and stood up again, her eyes darting. She moved to the next shelf.
After a few minutes of skimming through that shelf, she went to the next, and the next. By the time she was done with that bookshelf, her knees were wavering, her legs aching and trembling from having to always crouch down, and stay that way for a few minutes. Hermione sighed, frustrated, as she sat against the bookshelf behind her. She could feel the cold, hard floor underneath her legs chill through the fabric of her jeans. Her eyes wandered, and stared at the multicolored books. She let out another ragged breath, closing her eyes.
"It's five shelves over that way." Her heart ceased its beating, as she tried to swallow hard at the familiarity of the voice ringing in her ears. She opened her eyes as she turned her gaze and was met with the sight that had haunted her for so long.
His eyes were still as she remembered them; chilling her bones and piercing through her senses, scattering her thoughts so she could not think straight. His face was serious, but yet she could not read it as clearly as she thought she could; this brought her slight disappointment. His penetrating gaze stayed on hers, firm and steady. His eyes had such seriousness she could feel an odd feeling erupt in her stomach that she had never felt before. It was as if she wanted to reach out to him, hold him. She looked away, as she felt her nerves buzz even more hyperactively as she thought of how his touch might feel, how warm he would feel if he would ever come as close to being that near to her. She felt her heart pound as she wondered at how it would feel to have his arms around her, how it would feel to taste him.
"I didn't know anyone else was here," she said softly, her eyes on her knees laid out in front of her.
Draco's gaze never left her, as he watched and observed her, somehow trying to memorize the vision of her in his mind, although he knew it was already scarred and traced in there, as it had been all these past nights and days. He noticed her hair was wet, the shoulders of her thin shirt soaked. Her hands were pale and unbruised, as her fingers curled around the books she held. His heart started beating faster, and harder, as his eyes just stayed on her, trying to think of something to say but the sense of her just sitting there was a distraction. He swallowed hard, wondering if she could hear how loud his heart was beating inside of him.
"I saw you come in," he said quietly. Hermione looked at him again and saw that he also had some books in his hands. She smiled faintly, and Draco thought he had almost felt the attempt of his heart literally trying to leap out.
"I didn't know anyone else came in here during weekends," she said, her brown eyes twinkling faintly. "Besides me."
Draco grinned slightly, and Hermione felt a breath cease in her throat. Her hands tightened around her books as she tried to calm the rapid beats of her heart, and the energetic flutters in her stomach.
"Assumption isn't always right, Granger," he said to her. She nodded, smiling. She didn't know how, or why, but she was awfully glad that he was here. She missed hearing his voice, although it chimed and echoed through her ears. She noticed his usually dark, serious eyes were now twinkling. She nodded, as she tried to stand, brushing herself off. She held her books, her fingers gripping onto them tightly, for she was afraid that once she brushed past him, she would lose her senses and drop the books. She didn't want to seem like a clumsy fool to him.
She started walked towards him, as she brushed past, and headed to the shelf he directed her to. Draco stood frozen beside the bookshelf, his eyes closed. His heart was still beating furiously, his skin cold but burning. His senses had gone wild once she brushed past him, and the faint smell of vanilla filled his nose. He practically had to hang on to the bookshelf to keep himself from her. He heard her footsteps; faint but still loud in his ears. He swallowed hard, as he ran a hand through his silky blonde hair. After a few seconds of trying to compose himself, he heard her footsteps returning. He opened his eyes, and turned to follow after her, but he halted at his steps.
She was only about three feet away from him, looking at him with slight worry and curiosity. He couldn't help but see that dark cloud cover her once bright, brown eyes again. He tried to search them, but it was as if she was doing something to them to prevent him seeing her feelings and thoughts. He noticed she still had two books in her hand.
"Is there something wrong?" she asked him, her voice quiet but firm. He heard concern in her voice.
He looked at her, before trailing down to the books in her hand. He knew she saw him, and it would've been suspicious to him too, but he couldn't help but turn away at the feelings and the way her deep brown eyes tried to pierce through him. He couldn't let her see. He didn't want to. He didn't even have enough courage to look inside himself and search for the root of his feelings, and the rapid and constant pounding of his heart. He had a pretty good guess, although he shook it away every time it sprung up in his mind.
The root of everything, the root of his feelings, the root of his restless nights. The root of his heart warming and starting to function like never before was her. The root of it was her. The root of everything within him was her. Draco felt a cold shiver trace up his spine.
"Hand me your books," he said to her. Hermione started walking towards him, but froze.
"What is it? Are you hurt?" she asked. She couldn't help but feel curiosity and worry build up in her. Why had he been standing there with his eyes closed? Why did it seem as if he was trying to hold on to the bookcase so tightly? And why did he avoid the question? Her fingers almost dug into the hard covers of the books. Draco sighed, as he made his way to her, and reached for her books. She felt crackles and sparks of energy surge through her as his hand touched hers. Her hand shifted to move back instantly, but his fingers had entwined around her wrist. His hand felt smoldering on her skin, his warmth spreading through her skin and blood rushing through her veins at a faster pace. She was caught in his gaze, as his face was only inches from her own. She saw flecks of slight irritation in his fog-like gray eyes, but she was taken back by what she thought she saw. Fear. But it couldn't be. What could he possibly be afraid of?
Draco could almost feel her quivering, as he loosened his grasp on her. He was able to search her eyes much clearer this time; shock had erased that barrier she had built. He saw worry, fear. He felt his heartbeats cease into silence. Something flickered in them, something dark and something she wanted to keep and remain secret and hidden. Something that he knew, if not now, then once before.
Something deep inside him screamed that it was very familiar to what he was feeling.
He swallowed hard, as he refused to believe the voices and shouts in his mind. There was one particularly loud one that drowned out all the rest. But he made it fade, not caring how much they protested and screamed.
"I'm fine," he told her, his voice quiet but strong and firm. "I'm not hurt." Hermione's lungs felt as if they were going to burst, as she had been holding her breath all this time. She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. He took his other hand and reached for the books whilst he still held her wrist. Hermione let her grasp loosen, so he slipped them from her fingertips. After having the books in his hand, he let go of her slowly, his hand tightened around her skin one last time, savoring the warmth and burning tingles they brought through the skin of his fingertips to the palms of his hand. Finally he let go, and his gaze traveled down to the book. Hermione stood, frozen. Her wrist now felt cold, missing the warmth of his skin pressed against hers.
His sudden touch and the absence of it sent bitter chills but blood rising incredibly hot in her veins. She was dumbfounded, in a sense, as it took her quite a while to compose herself. Draco quickly glanced up at her, and noticed she was looking down at her feet, her arms crossed over her chest. He swallowed hard, as he walked past her and headed towards the correct shelf the book was originally placed on.
Hermione let out a ragged breath as his footsteps echoed in her ears, fading to somewhere behind her. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to erase everything; her thoughts, her feelings. She was still slightly trembling. Her wrist still burned pleasantly, and she thought it would never really fade away. He had scarred her, somehow, when he touched her. She followed after him.
She found him crouching low, in about the twelfth shelf, scanning the sides of the books. She watched as his pale, smooth hands held the book, and how his other hand trailed with his eyes as they traveled at a rapid, but graceful speed.
But then something struck her. Why was he spending so much time, so much effort trying to get her book back to the correct place? True, she could've just laid it out on Madame Pince's desk, but she wasn't one to add to more sloppy hard work that she knew kids who had detention had to do. She had a feeling they wouldn't bother to do it correctly, shoving them into random places where they could manage to fit them. Books were vital and important, as it was obvious they didn't see it that way, but they deserved adequate treatment. She could feel a slight smile returning as she watched him, now on his feet searching the top shelf. Somehow, the fact that he knew much about the library, and its coding system as it surely seemed, made her joyful and glad. But she couldn't figure out why.
"It's rather complicated," she said to him, "you don't have to do it if you don't want to. You seem to be getting quiet tired, and I could just place them on Madame Pince's desk." So long to her 'books deserve adequate treatment.' But she was just confused as to why he was willing to spend so much time looking for its place. Even she wasn't going to willingly look for it, after all this time. To be honest, she didn't understand why he wasn't getting frustrated; at least frustrated enough to show it.
Draco cast her a quick glance before returning his gaze to the shelf.
"I have a library just like this one back at the Manor," he said to her. "It has a similar coding system, although this one tends to drag on longer." He grinned as he finally found the right spot for the book. He positioned his hand, pushed the other book further to the side and placed the book inside. Hermione watched him intently, not quite surprised to know that he had his own library; she already knew he was filthy rich. Although that didn't spread any negativity through her; not even a trace. Instead, something else.. A warm, glowing-white feeling spread through her stomach. And suddenly she felt like smiling.
He looked at her as he turned the remaining book over to examine the side. He could see a faint smile on her face, and he could feel lively flutters bounce off the walls of his stomach. He could see her brown eyes were no longer dark and cloudy, but now bright and even a little joyful. Something else erupted in him to see that he could do that to her.
Hermione watched him as he turned the book, and tore away from his gaze to his hands.
"You don't have to do that one," she blurted out. He looked up at her again. "You've already done the other two, and I can tell it's becoming quite a nuisance, so I can just take it and lay it on Madame-"
Just then, he broke into a wide grin, and Hermione, absolutely stunned from his reaction, halted in mid-sentence. Suddenly, she heard his chuckles, filling her ears like an angel's song caught in a fresh spring breeze. All of a sudden she noticed that his fog-gray eyes were now twinkling more than before. It set off some sparks and nerves that burst and hum through her.
"It's fine, Granger," he said, turning his gaze to the shelf once again. It surprised him how heartily he had laughed, and yet it was triggered by her. He hadn't laughed that way in years.
"I don't mind the practice," he said, still searching. "Why leave it to the sloppy, detention-flanked kids, when you could do it better yourself?" Hermione felt something swell inside of her.
"I just-You probably have things to do, and I don't want you to feel as if you're obligated to help me, since-"
"That's odd," Draco said, interrupting her once again. She watched him, confused.
"What do you mean?" she asked, as he searched the book; from the front cover to the back, the first page until he flipped through it to the last. When he didn't answer, she came closer, walking towards him. When she was in front of him, he looked up at her, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
"Where did you get this?" he asked her. She was quite taken back by his question, although there was no hint of anger or interrogation.
"Here," she said, confused. "In the library, in one of these shelves."
"You found this here? Are you sure?" He was so close she could almost feel herself slightly trembling again.
"Yes," she replied. "Why? Is it stolen? What's wrong with it?" she asked.
His gaze flickered down at the book, as his gaze rested on her again. He saw worry and bewilderment in her eyes. Holding the book, he lowered his hands to his sides.
"There's something I want you to see," he said to her, quietly. She quickly cast her gaze down, her hands starting to wring and sweat.
"Don't worry," he said to her, slightly grinning at her reaction, but not at all as amused as before. "I'm not a death eater, I'm not a minion of the dead Voldemort, I'm not leading you somewhere where they sacrifice muggleborns to a God, and.." Her gaze traveled to his face, as he was smirking at her. She felt her heart trying to jump out to him furiously.
"And, I'm not as bad as you think," he said to her, quietly. "At least, not evil."
She stared at him, his eyes not trying to cover up any mischief or any possible trick he could be pulling on her. Although, deep inside her, she knew better than to doubt him, in some strange way. She nodded, and he smiled slightly.
Suddenly she felt something clamp over her hand, something warm that sent embers and tingles through her skin, her heart thundering and pounding. She looked down and saw that he was holding her hand firmly, her blood rushing in her ears.
"Come on," he said to her, as he pulled her behind him, walking to the very edge of the bookcase. Hermione, stunned, couldn't think of anything else to do than to follow him.
Draco smiled faintly, glad to know that she was behind him and not beside him, therefore not being able to see the look on his face. Her hand felt so smooth and warm in his, and such contact with her sent something burning, but at the same time unexplainable, flow through him. Their hands fit perfectly, as odd as it was.
Then he remembered, back when he had been holding her minutes ago, his heart had been the one with the voice that rose so loudly and defiantly. The one he tried to block, the one that confirmed all the impossibilities, all his fears that he managed to keep so dim in the dark, hoping it would fade, hoping that he would forget.
That voice rang in his ears again, chiming from his heart. This time he didn't know how to avoid it, for now it was accompanied with her brown, bright eyes. And the fact that he had made her smile, and made her feel that way, even for just a moment.
He smirked as they neared the entrance, tightening his hand on hers.
Disclaimer: don't own characters, just the plot.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! And thanks to my new Beta Reader, Tiffany.
Sorry it took me such a long time to update.. I was sick, and I also needed inspiration to strike once again.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"What is it that you express through your eyes? It seems to me more than all the words I have read in my lifetime."
-Walt Whitman
+++++++++++
Chapter Five: Bright Eyes
Hermione had managed to escape from the dormitory again, not bothering to wait and see Harry or Ron. Her curls were plastered to the sides of her face, sopping wet. She hadn't had the time to perform a drying spell; once she heard Lavender stir, she had run out as fast as she could. She didn't need any more questions that she needn't answer, or any demands as to where she was going. She was going to the library; which was although very predictable from her, people still asked.
She had three books clutched to her chest, panting as she slowed down in the corridor. It was still dark; the halls empty and the torches were still lit, although they shone only dimly. She could feel the drops of her soaking hair seep through the shoulders and back of her shirt, her hands still trembling from the sudden cold that had washed over her. Her footsteps echoed through the corridor, bouncing neatly off the walls. She gripped her books tighter as she let out a ragged breath that slightly shook her body.
She walked down the vacant, dim corridor, her mind still persisting to think of someone else. Someone else other than the boy who managed to haunt her all this time, day and night. But as her footsteps rang through the hall, she could not help but feel her heart beating faster as she thought of him, and the way he looked at her.
Her heart started beating faster than when she had been out of breath.
His piercing silver eyes were dark and mysterious, hiding the truth that could never even be found. They were cloudy, but shone brightly to her, so brightly that her eyes would immediately fall on him in a crowded room.
And there their gaze would meet. She could still remember the cold, burning chills that traced through her skin and coursed through her veins. And the way the once firm and sturdy ground beneath the soles of her feet would seem to spin and sink in, eating her pleasantly until someone had snapped her back to reality, away from her reverie.
Or until he would look away. Which, she remembered she would plead, deep down in her heart that he wouldn't, that he would continue to look into her and let her get lost in his piercing gray, overcast eyes.
It always seemed to surprise her when she was the one to look away first, when deep inside in her heart she knew she never intended to. And never would, unless for reasons she knew she would never come across. She felt a rip of sadness tear through her. She sighed as she continued down the corridor to the library.
She crept in, assuming that no one was there, as always. The door squeaked as she tried to close it, the air in the library unusually sharp and cold. She turned and walked over to the shelves, scanning the sides of the books to locate the places of her borrowed books. She knelt down on her knees, and stood up again, her eyes darting. She moved to the next shelf.
After a few minutes of skimming through that shelf, she went to the next, and the next. By the time she was done with that bookshelf, her knees were wavering, her legs aching and trembling from having to always crouch down, and stay that way for a few minutes. Hermione sighed, frustrated, as she sat against the bookshelf behind her. She could feel the cold, hard floor underneath her legs chill through the fabric of her jeans. Her eyes wandered, and stared at the multicolored books. She let out another ragged breath, closing her eyes.
"It's five shelves over that way." Her heart ceased its beating, as she tried to swallow hard at the familiarity of the voice ringing in her ears. She opened her eyes as she turned her gaze and was met with the sight that had haunted her for so long.
His eyes were still as she remembered them; chilling her bones and piercing through her senses, scattering her thoughts so she could not think straight. His face was serious, but yet she could not read it as clearly as she thought she could; this brought her slight disappointment. His penetrating gaze stayed on hers, firm and steady. His eyes had such seriousness she could feel an odd feeling erupt in her stomach that she had never felt before. It was as if she wanted to reach out to him, hold him. She looked away, as she felt her nerves buzz even more hyperactively as she thought of how his touch might feel, how warm he would feel if he would ever come as close to being that near to her. She felt her heart pound as she wondered at how it would feel to have his arms around her, how it would feel to taste him.
"I didn't know anyone else was here," she said softly, her eyes on her knees laid out in front of her.
Draco's gaze never left her, as he watched and observed her, somehow trying to memorize the vision of her in his mind, although he knew it was already scarred and traced in there, as it had been all these past nights and days. He noticed her hair was wet, the shoulders of her thin shirt soaked. Her hands were pale and unbruised, as her fingers curled around the books she held. His heart started beating faster, and harder, as his eyes just stayed on her, trying to think of something to say but the sense of her just sitting there was a distraction. He swallowed hard, wondering if she could hear how loud his heart was beating inside of him.
"I saw you come in," he said quietly. Hermione looked at him again and saw that he also had some books in his hands. She smiled faintly, and Draco thought he had almost felt the attempt of his heart literally trying to leap out.
"I didn't know anyone else came in here during weekends," she said, her brown eyes twinkling faintly. "Besides me."
Draco grinned slightly, and Hermione felt a breath cease in her throat. Her hands tightened around her books as she tried to calm the rapid beats of her heart, and the energetic flutters in her stomach.
"Assumption isn't always right, Granger," he said to her. She nodded, smiling. She didn't know how, or why, but she was awfully glad that he was here. She missed hearing his voice, although it chimed and echoed through her ears. She noticed his usually dark, serious eyes were now twinkling. She nodded, as she tried to stand, brushing herself off. She held her books, her fingers gripping onto them tightly, for she was afraid that once she brushed past him, she would lose her senses and drop the books. She didn't want to seem like a clumsy fool to him.
She started walked towards him, as she brushed past, and headed to the shelf he directed her to. Draco stood frozen beside the bookshelf, his eyes closed. His heart was still beating furiously, his skin cold but burning. His senses had gone wild once she brushed past him, and the faint smell of vanilla filled his nose. He practically had to hang on to the bookshelf to keep himself from her. He heard her footsteps; faint but still loud in his ears. He swallowed hard, as he ran a hand through his silky blonde hair. After a few seconds of trying to compose himself, he heard her footsteps returning. He opened his eyes, and turned to follow after her, but he halted at his steps.
She was only about three feet away from him, looking at him with slight worry and curiosity. He couldn't help but see that dark cloud cover her once bright, brown eyes again. He tried to search them, but it was as if she was doing something to them to prevent him seeing her feelings and thoughts. He noticed she still had two books in her hand.
"Is there something wrong?" she asked him, her voice quiet but firm. He heard concern in her voice.
He looked at her, before trailing down to the books in her hand. He knew she saw him, and it would've been suspicious to him too, but he couldn't help but turn away at the feelings and the way her deep brown eyes tried to pierce through him. He couldn't let her see. He didn't want to. He didn't even have enough courage to look inside himself and search for the root of his feelings, and the rapid and constant pounding of his heart. He had a pretty good guess, although he shook it away every time it sprung up in his mind.
The root of everything, the root of his feelings, the root of his restless nights. The root of his heart warming and starting to function like never before was her. The root of it was her. The root of everything within him was her. Draco felt a cold shiver trace up his spine.
"Hand me your books," he said to her. Hermione started walking towards him, but froze.
"What is it? Are you hurt?" she asked. She couldn't help but feel curiosity and worry build up in her. Why had he been standing there with his eyes closed? Why did it seem as if he was trying to hold on to the bookcase so tightly? And why did he avoid the question? Her fingers almost dug into the hard covers of the books. Draco sighed, as he made his way to her, and reached for her books. She felt crackles and sparks of energy surge through her as his hand touched hers. Her hand shifted to move back instantly, but his fingers had entwined around her wrist. His hand felt smoldering on her skin, his warmth spreading through her skin and blood rushing through her veins at a faster pace. She was caught in his gaze, as his face was only inches from her own. She saw flecks of slight irritation in his fog-like gray eyes, but she was taken back by what she thought she saw. Fear. But it couldn't be. What could he possibly be afraid of?
Draco could almost feel her quivering, as he loosened his grasp on her. He was able to search her eyes much clearer this time; shock had erased that barrier she had built. He saw worry, fear. He felt his heartbeats cease into silence. Something flickered in them, something dark and something she wanted to keep and remain secret and hidden. Something that he knew, if not now, then once before.
Something deep inside him screamed that it was very familiar to what he was feeling.
He swallowed hard, as he refused to believe the voices and shouts in his mind. There was one particularly loud one that drowned out all the rest. But he made it fade, not caring how much they protested and screamed.
"I'm fine," he told her, his voice quiet but strong and firm. "I'm not hurt." Hermione's lungs felt as if they were going to burst, as she had been holding her breath all this time. She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. He took his other hand and reached for the books whilst he still held her wrist. Hermione let her grasp loosen, so he slipped them from her fingertips. After having the books in his hand, he let go of her slowly, his hand tightened around her skin one last time, savoring the warmth and burning tingles they brought through the skin of his fingertips to the palms of his hand. Finally he let go, and his gaze traveled down to the book. Hermione stood, frozen. Her wrist now felt cold, missing the warmth of his skin pressed against hers.
His sudden touch and the absence of it sent bitter chills but blood rising incredibly hot in her veins. She was dumbfounded, in a sense, as it took her quite a while to compose herself. Draco quickly glanced up at her, and noticed she was looking down at her feet, her arms crossed over her chest. He swallowed hard, as he walked past her and headed towards the correct shelf the book was originally placed on.
Hermione let out a ragged breath as his footsteps echoed in her ears, fading to somewhere behind her. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to erase everything; her thoughts, her feelings. She was still slightly trembling. Her wrist still burned pleasantly, and she thought it would never really fade away. He had scarred her, somehow, when he touched her. She followed after him.
She found him crouching low, in about the twelfth shelf, scanning the sides of the books. She watched as his pale, smooth hands held the book, and how his other hand trailed with his eyes as they traveled at a rapid, but graceful speed.
But then something struck her. Why was he spending so much time, so much effort trying to get her book back to the correct place? True, she could've just laid it out on Madame Pince's desk, but she wasn't one to add to more sloppy hard work that she knew kids who had detention had to do. She had a feeling they wouldn't bother to do it correctly, shoving them into random places where they could manage to fit them. Books were vital and important, as it was obvious they didn't see it that way, but they deserved adequate treatment. She could feel a slight smile returning as she watched him, now on his feet searching the top shelf. Somehow, the fact that he knew much about the library, and its coding system as it surely seemed, made her joyful and glad. But she couldn't figure out why.
"It's rather complicated," she said to him, "you don't have to do it if you don't want to. You seem to be getting quiet tired, and I could just place them on Madame Pince's desk." So long to her 'books deserve adequate treatment.' But she was just confused as to why he was willing to spend so much time looking for its place. Even she wasn't going to willingly look for it, after all this time. To be honest, she didn't understand why he wasn't getting frustrated; at least frustrated enough to show it.
Draco cast her a quick glance before returning his gaze to the shelf.
"I have a library just like this one back at the Manor," he said to her. "It has a similar coding system, although this one tends to drag on longer." He grinned as he finally found the right spot for the book. He positioned his hand, pushed the other book further to the side and placed the book inside. Hermione watched him intently, not quite surprised to know that he had his own library; she already knew he was filthy rich. Although that didn't spread any negativity through her; not even a trace. Instead, something else.. A warm, glowing-white feeling spread through her stomach. And suddenly she felt like smiling.
He looked at her as he turned the remaining book over to examine the side. He could see a faint smile on her face, and he could feel lively flutters bounce off the walls of his stomach. He could see her brown eyes were no longer dark and cloudy, but now bright and even a little joyful. Something else erupted in him to see that he could do that to her.
Hermione watched him as he turned the book, and tore away from his gaze to his hands.
"You don't have to do that one," she blurted out. He looked up at her again. "You've already done the other two, and I can tell it's becoming quite a nuisance, so I can just take it and lay it on Madame-"
Just then, he broke into a wide grin, and Hermione, absolutely stunned from his reaction, halted in mid-sentence. Suddenly, she heard his chuckles, filling her ears like an angel's song caught in a fresh spring breeze. All of a sudden she noticed that his fog-gray eyes were now twinkling more than before. It set off some sparks and nerves that burst and hum through her.
"It's fine, Granger," he said, turning his gaze to the shelf once again. It surprised him how heartily he had laughed, and yet it was triggered by her. He hadn't laughed that way in years.
"I don't mind the practice," he said, still searching. "Why leave it to the sloppy, detention-flanked kids, when you could do it better yourself?" Hermione felt something swell inside of her.
"I just-You probably have things to do, and I don't want you to feel as if you're obligated to help me, since-"
"That's odd," Draco said, interrupting her once again. She watched him, confused.
"What do you mean?" she asked, as he searched the book; from the front cover to the back, the first page until he flipped through it to the last. When he didn't answer, she came closer, walking towards him. When she was in front of him, he looked up at her, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
"Where did you get this?" he asked her. She was quite taken back by his question, although there was no hint of anger or interrogation.
"Here," she said, confused. "In the library, in one of these shelves."
"You found this here? Are you sure?" He was so close she could almost feel herself slightly trembling again.
"Yes," she replied. "Why? Is it stolen? What's wrong with it?" she asked.
His gaze flickered down at the book, as his gaze rested on her again. He saw worry and bewilderment in her eyes. Holding the book, he lowered his hands to his sides.
"There's something I want you to see," he said to her, quietly. She quickly cast her gaze down, her hands starting to wring and sweat.
"Don't worry," he said to her, slightly grinning at her reaction, but not at all as amused as before. "I'm not a death eater, I'm not a minion of the dead Voldemort, I'm not leading you somewhere where they sacrifice muggleborns to a God, and.." Her gaze traveled to his face, as he was smirking at her. She felt her heart trying to jump out to him furiously.
"And, I'm not as bad as you think," he said to her, quietly. "At least, not evil."
She stared at him, his eyes not trying to cover up any mischief or any possible trick he could be pulling on her. Although, deep inside her, she knew better than to doubt him, in some strange way. She nodded, and he smiled slightly.
Suddenly she felt something clamp over her hand, something warm that sent embers and tingles through her skin, her heart thundering and pounding. She looked down and saw that he was holding her hand firmly, her blood rushing in her ears.
"Come on," he said to her, as he pulled her behind him, walking to the very edge of the bookcase. Hermione, stunned, couldn't think of anything else to do than to follow him.
Draco smiled faintly, glad to know that she was behind him and not beside him, therefore not being able to see the look on his face. Her hand felt so smooth and warm in his, and such contact with her sent something burning, but at the same time unexplainable, flow through him. Their hands fit perfectly, as odd as it was.
Then he remembered, back when he had been holding her minutes ago, his heart had been the one with the voice that rose so loudly and defiantly. The one he tried to block, the one that confirmed all the impossibilities, all his fears that he managed to keep so dim in the dark, hoping it would fade, hoping that he would forget.
That voice rang in his ears again, chiming from his heart. This time he didn't know how to avoid it, for now it was accompanied with her brown, bright eyes. And the fact that he had made her smile, and made her feel that way, even for just a moment.
He smirked as they neared the entrance, tightening his hand on hers.