-A Single Moment, A Beautiful Tear-
Any moment, everything can change…
For a minute, all the world can wait
Let go of your yesterday…
Can you hear it calling?
Can you feel in your soul?
Can you trust this longing
And take control?
Fly
Open up the part of you that wants to hide away…
Forget about the reasons…it's your time,
Time to fly.
-Hilary Duff
Hermione realized that she was fretting. Fretting. What was she doing? She was fixing her hair. That's what she was doing. How odd. She stopped what she was doing at once.
It was 7:20, and she began to gather her books for her nightly study time with Draco. They were ahead of the class in their potion now, and it was perfect. Hermione was proud of all the work they had done. Their potion looked and smelled exactly as their book said it should. She wasn't sure what they were going to work on tonight. They were already so far ahead of the rest of the class.
She tied her hair back in a messy ponytail and hurried down the stairs. Ron and Harry were in the common room, playing a game of Quidditch Through The Ages Trivia. The game bored Hermione endlessly, but Harry and Ron seemed to find it invigorating.
"Hey guys," she said, greeting them on her way out.
"What's up Herm? Do you want to join our game?" Ron asked hopefully.
"You know I'd love to," Hermione said sarcastically. "But I have a study date with Malfoy."
"Oh, so it's a date, is it?" said Harry. "If it is, you know I'll have to beat him up, right?"
"Harry, please," Hermione said, sounding superior. "But I have to go. I'll see you guys later, I guess, if you're not already asleep."
"Hermione, get real. I don't even know why you're working. It's the weekend, and we all know you're way ahead of the class anyway. As always," Harry said knowingly.
"Never hurts to be prepared," Hermione replied.
"Yeah yeah. Well, I guess we'll see you later," Ron said.
"Yeah. Bye Herm. And I'm sorry about Hogsmeade. It wasn't supposed to be that way," said Harry, looking embarrassed.
"Don't worry about it. I'm fine. It's fine. Anyway, see you guys later."
"Bye," Harry and Ron said together. She could hear them discussing homework and why it wasn't healthy as she left her best friends in the common room. She loved them to death, but they were both so lazy! So lazy, in fact, that it was funny. She smiled to herself and laughed quietly. Life was funny. She walked down the marble staircase and into the main hall, walking the last few yards to library. Working with Draco wasn't so bad. Correction: Working with Malfoy wasn't so bad.
He was there ahead of her again, sitting at their usual table, and reading what looked like a novel, and not one that you would find in the Hogwarts library. As Hermione glanced quickly at the spine, she recognized the name of a muggle author, John Steinbeck "You read Steinbeck?" Her question startled him, as he had been deeply immersed in his book.
"Don't do that, Granger!"
"You read Steinbeck?" she said again.
"Yes, what of it?"
"Well, he's a muggle. And his stuff doesn't really seem to be your style."
"I don't care if he's a muggle, he's written—wait, you read him too?"
"I've read a few of his works," she said shyly. Draco was keenly aware of the shy tone in her voice.
"You've read them all, haven't you?" he asked smartly.
"Well I wouldn't say that, exactly. Actually—"
"Granger."
"Fine. Yes. I've read them all. Which one have you got there?"
"The Pearl."
"That's my favorite one!"
"Really? Me too. I've read it before, but it just never quite loses it's effect on me."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. It's such a powerful story, and Steinbeck is a phenomenal writer."
"I know. The imagery and the word choice and—" Draco stopped. He and Hermione had just made a connection. That meant they had something in common. He had something in common with Hermione. He didn't know if he was ready for that.
"And what?"
"Nothing," said Draco quickly. "Let's just do what we have to do."
"Alright," said Hermione, confused. She had thought that the conversation was going so well.
The rest of the evening, like so many before, was spent in silence and research. At 11:00, Hermione said, "Draco, I think we should pack it up. It's already 11:00." There it was. The use of his first name again, and again, he chose to be quiet about it.
"Alright." They returned the books and gathered their supplies just like always. The routine was the same.
Hermione had a stack of books ten high that she was trying to take over to their shelves when she tripped on her shoelace and fell. She landed on her stomach, the books all over in front of her. She quickly got to her knees, embarrassed, and struggled to gather all the books again.
Draco rushed over to her, having seen her fall, and got to his knees to help her. She was always dropping things.
Their scrambling hands fell on the same book again, fingers brushing each other. Hermione gasped and let in a sharp intake of breath. Draco stopped breathing altogether. Their eyes were moving everywhere but the others face, and the moment seemed to last forever. Then, their eyes met. Hermione's chocolate brown eyes mingled with Draco's storming grey one's, and for a moment she was bewildered. This was only the second time that they had been so close.
Draco didn't know what to do. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. He just didn't know what to do with it. So he did the only thing that he knew how. He said, "Where do you get off thinking it's okay to touch me, Mudblood?" He watched as her eyes clouded over with tears. She wrenched the book away from him, their skin no longer touching. He could breathe again.
"I'll get the rest of them," she said weakly, the tears streaming down her cheeks. She was too tired to be angry, and she felt defeated. The day had gone so well between the two of them, and now this. She just couldn't understand him. He was too unpredictable.
He watched her as she gathered her books again quickly, tried to pick them up, and dropped them again in her hurry. She sank to her knees and put her head in her hands, little gasps coming from her as she sobbed.
Draco crawled over to her, not sure what he was going to do when he got there. He kneeled in front of her so that they were facing each other. She lifted her head to face him.
"Have you no shame?" she asked, finding her voice and her rage, finally. "I'm a person, you know, a person with feelings. Not that you would know about those."
"I know plenty about feeling, you stuck up little mudblood!" At this, Hermione raised her hand and moved to slap him, but this time, anticipating it, he caught her wrist in mid-swing. "Not this time," he said triumphantly. She tried to stand, but Draco pushed down on her arm, and she crumpled to the ground again.
He sat back on his knees, still holding her wrist, and looked at her. The tears were still coming out of her eyes in rivers, and he reached out with his other hand and caught one on his fingertip for the second time. It was beautiful. He brought it close to his face and examined it, loving its prismatic effect, and all the little rainbows danced before his eyes. He took the single tear and placed it on his own cheek with his index finger, wanting her beautiful tear for his own.
He reached out and touched her wet cheek, wanting to feel the moist skin. He had not cried for fifteen years. He had almost forgotten what it felt like.
"Draco, what are you doing?" Hermione asked, and her hand flew up to grab his wrist and stop him from touching her face anymore. It was scaring her, and so were the little shocks of electricity flowing down her back. "I'll hex you," she threatened, and it was an empty threat.
"Yeah? How's that? How many hands have you got left?"
They were trapped. His right wrist in her left hand and her right wrist in his left hand.
Draco realized that he was shivering, and that Hermione had used his first name again. He looked at her, her thick brown hair, her freckled nose, her red lips, her creamy skin. He felt how small her wrist was and noticed how slender she was, and looked at her little boyish figure, her small chest and the gentle curve of her hips. She was beautiful. How could he have spent all this time with her and not realized that she was beautiful? He wanted to kiss her, to have part of her beauty for his own, just as he had claimed the tear as his own.
Hermione looked at Draco through her blurry eyes. His eyes were stormy grey, and they were soft right now, as she had never seen them before. Or maybe she had never looked properly before. She felt how big and strong his hands were as she noticed again the grip he had on her wrist. It was nearly bruising her. She looked at him and his body that was no longer a skinny boy's body, but the muscular body of a man. Draco had become a man. His hair was almost white, it was so blond. It was angel-blond. She wondered how soft it was. She marveled at how she could not have realized how beautiful this boy was. Tainted with cruelty, yes, but beautiful just the same.
He leaned toward her, breathing in her smell. Vanilla tears sadness confusion…that's what she smelled like. She even smelled lovely.
He was leaning toward her, so close that she could smell him. Spices, confusion, anger, desire and something else…she inhaled deeply.
Suddenly, their faces were only an inch apart, perhaps less. Everything blended together, and Hermione could no longer make out his features clearly. She could hardly breathe. "Malfoy," she breathed.
"Shh," he whispered, savoring this moment. Nothing good ever seemed to last very long. He remembered a poem he had read somewhere…Nature's first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaves a flower, but only so an hour. As leaf subsides to leaf, so Eden sank to grief. So dawn turns down to day, nothing gold can stay…
He didn't know what was happening. He didn't know why he was so close to this girl he practically hated. He did hate her, didn't he? That had never been a question before. Of course he hated her. So why was he so captivated by the way the tears hung to her lashes, the positions of the many freckles that peppered her nose…?
She loathed this boy, did she not? So why was he so close, and why was she allowing him to be so close? Why was she studying him, trying to memorize his expressions? Why didn't she want this moment to end? She hated him, right? Right. Right?
A moment later, he couldn't help himself. He closed the remaining space between them, taking her lips for his own. He always got what he wanted. It didn't matter that he was kissing Hermione Granger. She was beautiful, if only to him, and he was a nasty selfish boy. Why shouldn't he have all that he wanted? And her lips were so soft and innocent, inexperienced, inviting. He had never kissed a girl this way before. The way she responded and shivered beneath him made him crave her more, wanting to devour her and keep her forever. Forever forever forever…
He was kissing her, and with a passion. She shivered. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. This moment was beautiful. She knew to live life for its moments. This happy moment might be all she had to hang on to someday. Life was so unpredictable, full of moments such as this. This was the moment of moments. In this moment, part of her had been given away. Part of her was already lost to him.
Finally, the kiss ended. It had not been heated, but it had been satisfying. Hermione sat back, still holding his wrist, breathing deeply. She had just kissed Draco Malfoy. She had kissed the dragon, and she had liked it, wanted it, craved it. She stood up swiftly. She knew she had to get away from him. He brought out things in her that she didn't understand, perhaps part of that special and unknown pane of her Johari's Window. She didn't trust what she didn't know. Hermione left the library on fast quiet feet, without saying anything to Draco, and without looking back. She was afraid of what might happen if she did.
Draco watched her back, watched as her small figure disappeared through the wooden doors of the library. What the hell had just happened? What was going on? Draco had never acted on his instincts, never done anything on impulse. How did she manage to change him, alter the way he was? Who was this girl? This young woman of ambition and beauty, who he had never stopped to look at before, never spared a second glance? What was she doing to him now? Why could he not sort it out?
Hermione and Draco each made the separate journey to their dorms, completely lost in thought. Both of them had learned something important; in a single moment, everything can change. Change forever.
Any moment, everything can change…For a minute, all the world can wait,
Let go of your yesterday.
Can you feel it calling?
Can you feel it in you soul?
Can you trust this longing
And take control?
Fly
Open up the part of you that wants to hide away…
A/N: Did you like it? I hope so. I like it. Anyway, acknowledgements/disclaimers: The poem included is entitled "Nothing Gold Can Stay". It belongs to my favorite poet, Mr. Robert Frost. The song featured at the beginning and end of this chapter was recorded by Hilary Duff, and most likely belongs to Disney. I don't know, but the point being the song doesn't belong to me. Thanks for your help, any of you who have reviewed. I hope you liked this chappie. I think it's my favorite one so far, and like I've said through all of this, I'm working so hard for no OOC scenes because I think that defeats the purpose of using Harry Potter characters at all. Anywho, until the next chapter, goodbye now!
Don't forget to leave me a review!;)
-Ella-