Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the other characters in this story. Wish I did though.
Chapter Seven
Under Cover of Darkness
Hermione closed her eyes and listened to the bullets of shower water patter against her back. It had been three days since her encounter with Draco, and since then he hadn't said a word to her. She had to admit she was a little peeved, but at least him saying nothing was better than him reverting to the old Malfoy.
She leaned back and let water drip off her nose with a soothing pink noise, inhaling deeply the japonica conditioner she'd lathered into her hair. Not that the conditioner did any good taming it, but the stuff smelled nice nonetheless. She wondered if Draco had smelled it as he leaned in towards her that night. She had really thought he was going to kiss her, and even then, as she took her shower, she didn't quite know what she thought of the notion. A Malfoy would never kiss a muggle, let alone in a hallway where multitudes of students could see. A Malfoy would be more likely to seduce her, knock her up and discard her. But Draco hadn't been acting like a Malfoy towards her at all lately. She guessed she wouldn't mind him kissing her...maybe a peck on the cheek, seeing as his lips looked so nice to touch; not chapped like Ron's, or too sticky with saliva, but thin and sweet. Not to mention he smelled almost better than the japonica conditioner in her hair.
But she was just flattering herself; Draco had no interest in her whatsoever, she was sure of that. He would never even think about kissing her, let alone out of his own free will. Besides, he was going out with that hag, Pansy. Pansy wasn't exactly an adonis, but she was still prettier than Hermione. Draco would never dump Pansy for a muggle like herself.
Hermione wrenched the shower faucet off and stomped out of the steamy cubicle, shaking herself dry. She had to get some fresh air. After making sure she was dressed in more than a towel this time, she crawled out of the portrait hole and wrung her hair. A small puddle of water smacked onto the flagstone floor from it, waiting patiently to be cleaned up. Hermione high tailed it out of the corridor before Filch came along and saw the wet mess.
It was cool, crisp and refreshing out on the lawn. The dew had turned into frost in the evening chill, and crackled under her light footsteps. Not many people were about at this hour; the occasional couple making out under the shade of a tree, a group of first years playing tag...she wished so much that she was one of them. They were all so happy and carefree, doing whatever they wished, having all they wanted. She longed to be the girl, giggling as the boy pulled her out of sight, or one of the kids playing without any worry of yesterday or tomorrow.
How could Draco do this to her? She hated him for how he treated her the most part of her Hogwarts life...so why did she wish he was the one pulling her behind a lonely tree, that he was the one tickling her as she was tagged? Shaking her head, she pressed on towards Hagrid's hut. She didn't want to go in, because in there were too many memories involving Harry and Ron. But it was nice nonetheless to sit under the window and feel the warm breeze from Hagrid's fire against her soaked head. She closed her eyes contentedly and lay her head against the windowsill, smiling.
Hermione sat there so long she must have fallen asleep, because when she reopened her eyes it was no longer sunset. The sky was as black as the lake's ripples, dotted with uneven specks of silver. The moon cast a glow over the grounds just light enough for her to see, but she still felt uneasy. No one was out but her; even Hagrid's window was still and dark. She was all alone in the pitch dark, right near the forbidden forest. If she were attacked now, her screams wouldn't be heard by anyone. She knew Hagrid well enough to know he slept like a log, and the castle lay oblivious to the racket outside of it. She would never be found until the morning.
Hermione shuddered and shook such dumb thoughts from her head, then moved to get up. Something crackled softly behind her, like a foot on a twig. She gasped and jumped clear off the woodpile she'd been sitting on and stumbled over a stray piece of lumber, landing face down in the ground. She lay there for several minutes, so still she could have been dead. But when she heard no more noise around her, she got up and assumed the crackling had been a figment of her imagination. She angrily reminded herself she was much too old to be scared of the dark, and figured she had better return to the castle before she was missed. Especially if Ginny happened to realize she wasn't there at night...Hermione would never hear the end of it.
She got up and started to head for the castle when her sleeve caught on something. Guessing it was just a branch, she absentmindedly reached over to pull it off before it ripped her robe's sleeve. But...it didn't feel like wood. Trees aren't that soft, or fleshy...
She shrieked as someone's hand grabbed her mouth and pulled her back into a warm, very solid object. She tried to bite it away, but it was hopeless. She let out another muffled shriek and tried to kick her attacker somewhere, anywhere, but her foot couldn't reach.
'Whoa,' the boy whispered in her ear. 'Stop that...Ha, I'm mad now, Granger.'
'Let go of me, you twisted ba'- she tried to yell, but he clamped further into her jaw.
'Language,' he muttered simply. 'Now be still...you moved before I could finish drawing you. I don't believe the professionals would think much of that, hm?'
'Oh God,' Hermione panted. 'Oh God...' she turned around and collapsed into Draco's arms, racked with sobs. She could have killed him, he scared her so badly.
'Sorry Hermione, didn't mean to frighten you,' Draco whispered in her ear. He flicked his eyes over the length of her. 'But you know, you are kind of cute when you're scared.'
'Don't do that,' Hermione warned him venomously. She jerked away from him, and Draco seemed a bit taken aback. 'I didn't really mean it,' he shrugged. 'I wasn't trying to scare you, honest.' Hermione looked at him and sniffled a bit, letting him run a finger down the salty trail on her cheek. She shuddered, but this time not because she was scared or chilly. She hated to admit it, as she'd always seen herself an independent woman, but she felt safe with him wrapped tightly around her. More than safe. She slumped forward into his chest, just barely able to make out the Slytherin serpent embroidered on his robes. It was so dark, and she was alone with Malfoy, no one to interrupt, no one to invade...normally she would have been petrified in this situation, but for now she just felt hot and flushed. She could feel his whole body pulsing, and it was a wonderful feeling.
'You look like a picture,' Malfoy sighed in her ear. That had been completely random. Hermione glanced up, unsure if the comment was supposed to be an insult or a compliment.
'Er...thank you?' Hermione whispered back. He sounded nice enough when he said it, she guessed.
'But the lips...' Malfoy continued. He leaned back, let go of her and made a small frame from his thumbs and index fingers.
'What about the lips?' Hermione murmured. She shivered as he drew in closer, coiling his arms around her neck.
'They're not right,' he told her slowly. 'They look too pale.'
'Well then add more red paint,' Hermione grinned. She was barely aware of what an idiot she sounded like, barely aware of what she was doing. Not only was she letting Malfoy seduce her, but she was enjoying it as well! She didn't care. One kiss wouldn't hurt. This was probably a dream anyway; she would wake up still asleep under Hagrid's window. It didn't matter what she thought, what she did or said. She could do whatever she wanted. And she knew exactly what she wanted.
'Add more red paint?' Malfoy smirked. He sniggered and shot Hermione a wolfish grin. 'Yes, I think I shall...I shall...'
Hermione closed her eyes, as did he, and let the darkness take over her. She could not see, could not hear, could not do anything except feel. And what she felt was Malfoy, his warmth, his heart thudding against hers... and soon, his lips smothering own. It was only a tickle at first, but then progressed to a gentle caressing. And she was right, so right; his lips felt perfect. They fit into every groove of her own as they gracefully tumbled into her, letting the two people-a muggle and a pureblood-become one.
Neither noticed the flash of glasses glowering at them through the Gryffindor window.
Chapter Seven
Under Cover of Darkness
Hermione closed her eyes and listened to the bullets of shower water patter against her back. It had been three days since her encounter with Draco, and since then he hadn't said a word to her. She had to admit she was a little peeved, but at least him saying nothing was better than him reverting to the old Malfoy.
She leaned back and let water drip off her nose with a soothing pink noise, inhaling deeply the japonica conditioner she'd lathered into her hair. Not that the conditioner did any good taming it, but the stuff smelled nice nonetheless. She wondered if Draco had smelled it as he leaned in towards her that night. She had really thought he was going to kiss her, and even then, as she took her shower, she didn't quite know what she thought of the notion. A Malfoy would never kiss a muggle, let alone in a hallway where multitudes of students could see. A Malfoy would be more likely to seduce her, knock her up and discard her. But Draco hadn't been acting like a Malfoy towards her at all lately. She guessed she wouldn't mind him kissing her...maybe a peck on the cheek, seeing as his lips looked so nice to touch; not chapped like Ron's, or too sticky with saliva, but thin and sweet. Not to mention he smelled almost better than the japonica conditioner in her hair.
But she was just flattering herself; Draco had no interest in her whatsoever, she was sure of that. He would never even think about kissing her, let alone out of his own free will. Besides, he was going out with that hag, Pansy. Pansy wasn't exactly an adonis, but she was still prettier than Hermione. Draco would never dump Pansy for a muggle like herself.
Hermione wrenched the shower faucet off and stomped out of the steamy cubicle, shaking herself dry. She had to get some fresh air. After making sure she was dressed in more than a towel this time, she crawled out of the portrait hole and wrung her hair. A small puddle of water smacked onto the flagstone floor from it, waiting patiently to be cleaned up. Hermione high tailed it out of the corridor before Filch came along and saw the wet mess.
It was cool, crisp and refreshing out on the lawn. The dew had turned into frost in the evening chill, and crackled under her light footsteps. Not many people were about at this hour; the occasional couple making out under the shade of a tree, a group of first years playing tag...she wished so much that she was one of them. They were all so happy and carefree, doing whatever they wished, having all they wanted. She longed to be the girl, giggling as the boy pulled her out of sight, or one of the kids playing without any worry of yesterday or tomorrow.
How could Draco do this to her? She hated him for how he treated her the most part of her Hogwarts life...so why did she wish he was the one pulling her behind a lonely tree, that he was the one tickling her as she was tagged? Shaking her head, she pressed on towards Hagrid's hut. She didn't want to go in, because in there were too many memories involving Harry and Ron. But it was nice nonetheless to sit under the window and feel the warm breeze from Hagrid's fire against her soaked head. She closed her eyes contentedly and lay her head against the windowsill, smiling.
Hermione sat there so long she must have fallen asleep, because when she reopened her eyes it was no longer sunset. The sky was as black as the lake's ripples, dotted with uneven specks of silver. The moon cast a glow over the grounds just light enough for her to see, but she still felt uneasy. No one was out but her; even Hagrid's window was still and dark. She was all alone in the pitch dark, right near the forbidden forest. If she were attacked now, her screams wouldn't be heard by anyone. She knew Hagrid well enough to know he slept like a log, and the castle lay oblivious to the racket outside of it. She would never be found until the morning.
Hermione shuddered and shook such dumb thoughts from her head, then moved to get up. Something crackled softly behind her, like a foot on a twig. She gasped and jumped clear off the woodpile she'd been sitting on and stumbled over a stray piece of lumber, landing face down in the ground. She lay there for several minutes, so still she could have been dead. But when she heard no more noise around her, she got up and assumed the crackling had been a figment of her imagination. She angrily reminded herself she was much too old to be scared of the dark, and figured she had better return to the castle before she was missed. Especially if Ginny happened to realize she wasn't there at night...Hermione would never hear the end of it.
She got up and started to head for the castle when her sleeve caught on something. Guessing it was just a branch, she absentmindedly reached over to pull it off before it ripped her robe's sleeve. But...it didn't feel like wood. Trees aren't that soft, or fleshy...
She shrieked as someone's hand grabbed her mouth and pulled her back into a warm, very solid object. She tried to bite it away, but it was hopeless. She let out another muffled shriek and tried to kick her attacker somewhere, anywhere, but her foot couldn't reach.
'Whoa,' the boy whispered in her ear. 'Stop that...Ha, I'm mad now, Granger.'
'Let go of me, you twisted ba'- she tried to yell, but he clamped further into her jaw.
'Language,' he muttered simply. 'Now be still...you moved before I could finish drawing you. I don't believe the professionals would think much of that, hm?'
'Oh God,' Hermione panted. 'Oh God...' she turned around and collapsed into Draco's arms, racked with sobs. She could have killed him, he scared her so badly.
'Sorry Hermione, didn't mean to frighten you,' Draco whispered in her ear. He flicked his eyes over the length of her. 'But you know, you are kind of cute when you're scared.'
'Don't do that,' Hermione warned him venomously. She jerked away from him, and Draco seemed a bit taken aback. 'I didn't really mean it,' he shrugged. 'I wasn't trying to scare you, honest.' Hermione looked at him and sniffled a bit, letting him run a finger down the salty trail on her cheek. She shuddered, but this time not because she was scared or chilly. She hated to admit it, as she'd always seen herself an independent woman, but she felt safe with him wrapped tightly around her. More than safe. She slumped forward into his chest, just barely able to make out the Slytherin serpent embroidered on his robes. It was so dark, and she was alone with Malfoy, no one to interrupt, no one to invade...normally she would have been petrified in this situation, but for now she just felt hot and flushed. She could feel his whole body pulsing, and it was a wonderful feeling.
'You look like a picture,' Malfoy sighed in her ear. That had been completely random. Hermione glanced up, unsure if the comment was supposed to be an insult or a compliment.
'Er...thank you?' Hermione whispered back. He sounded nice enough when he said it, she guessed.
'But the lips...' Malfoy continued. He leaned back, let go of her and made a small frame from his thumbs and index fingers.
'What about the lips?' Hermione murmured. She shivered as he drew in closer, coiling his arms around her neck.
'They're not right,' he told her slowly. 'They look too pale.'
'Well then add more red paint,' Hermione grinned. She was barely aware of what an idiot she sounded like, barely aware of what she was doing. Not only was she letting Malfoy seduce her, but she was enjoying it as well! She didn't care. One kiss wouldn't hurt. This was probably a dream anyway; she would wake up still asleep under Hagrid's window. It didn't matter what she thought, what she did or said. She could do whatever she wanted. And she knew exactly what she wanted.
'Add more red paint?' Malfoy smirked. He sniggered and shot Hermione a wolfish grin. 'Yes, I think I shall...I shall...'
Hermione closed her eyes, as did he, and let the darkness take over her. She could not see, could not hear, could not do anything except feel. And what she felt was Malfoy, his warmth, his heart thudding against hers... and soon, his lips smothering own. It was only a tickle at first, but then progressed to a gentle caressing. And she was right, so right; his lips felt perfect. They fit into every groove of her own as they gracefully tumbled into her, letting the two people-a muggle and a pureblood-become one.
Neither noticed the flash of glasses glowering at them through the Gryffindor window.