Where No One's Supposed to Look for a Weasley
Malfoy looked for the most isolated place inside the library. He just couldn't face anyone looking like Weasley. He didn't want to be looked at like he wasn't his normal self—tall, blonde and with a wickedly handsome grin; he was thousands of times better-looking than Weasley. "Snape's gonna pay for this," he muttered, sitting on a chair beside a tall window, in between the really dusty shelves that looked as if no one's touched them in years. Perfect, he thought as he looked outside. Snape was really getting irritable by the minute. He still remembered when he was in his first year and Snape treated him as his best student, and Potter like he didn't deserve to exist. He grinned, but it quickly turned back into a smirk when he remembered what had happened earlier at Potions, when he got included in Potter and Weasley's Detention. He clenched his fists. His father would surely hear about his. And when he does, Snape will be nothing but a—
THUD!
The sound interrupted his thoughts and he looked around. He was at the farthest, most isolated corner of the library and it was already after supper. Who could still be wandering about? He turned his head, expecting the Librarian, Madame Pince to show up and tell him that the library was closed. Instead, he saw a head of bushy brown hair, crouching low to pick up several books that had fallen from the shelf. He snorted. He should've known. It could be no one else but Granger.
Hermione heard someone snort and saw Ron sitting at a desk beside the window. She smiled. Finally, Ron had decided to apologize. Although, he could do better than snort to get her attention, she thought as she walked towards him, forgetting the heap of books on the floor.
"What do you want, Granger?" Malfoy asked, digusted at how close he was to a Mudblood.
Hermione frowned. "An explanation, Weasley," she said, stressing on his last name. "Didn't you come here to apologize?" she said, sitting on the chair beside his. "Well, I'm waiting," she said, tapping her fingers on the desk in front of them.
Malfoy moved so his chair was backed to the wall. He should've just stood up and left the moment he saw her walking towards him. But he was too lazy to do so. And now the Mudblood was waiting for him to apologize. He scowled. "Apologize to you?" he said, crossing his arms stubbornly. "Never."
Expecting her to retaliate and tell him off like she usually did Weasley, Draco braced himself for a loud bellow in his ears.
But it didn't come. Hermione was as silent and still as though she had been petrified, and Draco peered at her closer to see if she was. But the movement in her eyes told him she was very much alive and confused, almost as if overflowing with feeling. The sad expression on her face was worth a thousand words. Draco fought the urge to smile wickedly upon seeing Granger so miserable. And then remembered that he couldn't care less what people's opinion of Weasley was and so let himself grin. And then his grin broadened as soon as he saw how upsetting she found it, thinking it was her precious Ron, not feeling sorry for her. But she was wrong. The expression on his face was his expression of feeling sorry for someone. He felt so sorry for her because it was the most pathetic thing he'd ever seen. So Granger was crazy in love with Weasley. He smirked, feeling he was going to get sick. "I should've known you'd fall for Weasley," he said. "He's so poor that only Mudbloods could want him."
Hermione was taken aback upon hearing him say that he should've known that she'd fall for a Weasley, and Draco gave her a self-satisfied smirk. Surely she was now going to leave, thinking that her precious boyfriend's called her a Mudblood. But he was again surprised when, instead of standing up and walking away like he'd expected, she slowly put her hand on his, which was now resting on the table.
Draco winced, somehow thinking that her touch would hurt him, and then frowned when it didn't, and even felt mildly nice—her warm hand on his cold ones. He looked at their hands in disgust, but didn't do anything to break the contact.
"Is that what this is about?" Hermione asked, putting her other hand over his, surprised at how cold it was when they were usually what made hers feel warm. Ron must be nervous, she deduced and raised an eyebrow at him. "Did you see Malfoy on your way here? Did he see us earlier and decided to say bad things about it?"
Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her. What could they have done earlier that he would have bad things to say about?
"Oh Ron," she said, giving his hands a reassuring squeeze. "You know better than to listen to Malfoy, that stupid prat."
Draco opened his mouth to defend himself, but she wasn't finished.
"You know he's just saying those things because he's jealous," she said.
"Jealous?!" Malfoy echoed, his eyes flaming with fury. Him? Jealous of Potter and his sidekicks? Ludicrous! He sneered at her. "And what exactly does Malfoy have to be jealous of?" He yanked his hands away from hers and crossed his arms over his chest. "Malfoy has everything he wants," he said, smiling self-righteously.
"Wants maybe, but certainly not everything he needs," she said, turning her face away and looking at her shoes. "And that's why you're so much better than him," she added, her voice barely audible.
But Malfoy heard it, and was thoroughly confused. "What do you mean?" he asked, for the first time genuinely curious.
Hermione sighed and then looked up at him. "What I mean is that I can't believe that you're putting yourself down because of Malfoy when you know that he's only mean because we have something he doesn't."
"Which is?" Malfoy asked, still not understanding, but she didn't hear him. She wasn't finished talking. "Or at least I thought we did, and now I'm not so sure," she said and then stood up. "But clearly with that attitude we can't discuss it now," she turned and then quickly walked away.
Malfoy let her. He didn't know if the real Weasley would've followed her and he didn't care. He had better things to do than to get involved in the Mudblood's affairs. He leaned back on his chair and looked at the silver watch on his left wrist. He had another half hour before the potion wore off. He frowned. Time was moving so slowly. He closed his eyes, figuring time would drift faster if he slept, but opened them again not even a minute later, thinking it was probably better to sleep in his bedroom. He stood up abruptly, and was already a few steps away from the chair when he realized why he'd come to the library in the first place. He didn't want to go around Hogwarts looking like Weasley. Smirking, he sat back down on his earlier seat, mad at himself for not being able to think straight. Why was he so restless anyway? He thought as he looked out the window, again noticing how big they were, and then suddenly realizing that they weren't windows at all.
He took out his wand and peered at the side of the glass that went all the way from the ceiling to the floor. He pointed his hand at it. "Alohomora," he said and immediately the glass slid a few inches to the left. He pushed it further and found himself looking over the Quidditch pitch. Apparently, the 'windows' were actually an entrance to a long balcony he always saw whenever they had a game, but never quite figured it was lining the library walls outside. He stepped out and felt a cold breeze. He turned his head to face against the direction it was blowing and smirked at what he saw. Granger was leaning on the railing, eyes closed but breathing very loudly. Figuring she must've used a different glass door (After all, she probably knew every inch of the library by heart), he walked closer towards her to see why she was being so noisy. He was still a few steps away when he saw her wipe her eyes and figured it out. She was crying. He knew that he should walk away because he couldn't care less whether she needed anyone to comfort her or not, assuming he knew what to do whenever somebody around him was crying, which he didn't, because he didn't know anyone of the sort who was that weak, but something she had said suddenly came back inside his head. He's only mean because we have something he doesn't, she'd said, and Draco furrowed his eyebrows. How could her perception of him be so different from all the other girls he knew? And what could she possibly think that Weasley had that he didn't? The Weasleys were so poor, they made his house elves lives seem luxurious. He grinned at his own joke, but her words didn't disappear from his mind. What in the world was Granger talking about?
He raised an eyebrow at her, both in confusion and anger that one sentence from her got him so agitated. He knew he really wasn't supposed to care, but curiosity got the better of him. He cleared his throat.
Hermione opened her eyes abruptly but didn't turn to see who it was. She already knew it could only be Ron. Who else would be coming here? she thought. At least he didn't snort this time, she chuckled to herself and sure enough, when she looked, she saw Ron, but the smirk on his face was so scary, she almost couldn't believe it was him. The expression made her skin crawl. Clearly, he didn't come after her to apologize. Fighting to keep her face straight, her voice quivered. "No Ron, not here," she said, turning to go back inside.
Malfoy caught her arm. "I haven't said anything," he said, surprised at how soft her skin felt under his. He'd have thought a Mudblood would never have skin that smooth.
"Well, whatever it was you were going to say, don't say it here," she said, cringing as she felt his grip on her tighten. But she didn't struggle for him to let go. That would only give him the satisfaction of knowing she was weak, and he'd already seen her cry. Plus, they'd promised each other that they would never fight in that place.
"Why not?" Malfoy asked, raising his eyebrows at her. She was acting very strange, he could tell, even when he didn't know her that well. He saw her often enough anyway to know how she usually acted with Weasley. And this, with her brown eyes seeming to call out to him for something he didn't know what, was not how it was.
She looked up at him, looking deeply hurt, as if he'd just called her a Mudblood again. "You know why not," she said. "Or have you really forgotten?" She looked at him with a longing Malfoy didn't understand.
"I just want to know what it is you think I've got that Malfoy hasn't," he blurted out, blinking and turning his eyes away from hers.
"Well," she started. "If you can't figure it out by yourself then you don't deserve to know what it is," she said and tried to walk away.
But Malfoy pulled her right back, his grip on her arm tightening still. "Look, I don't have time for this," he told her, knowing the potion's effect would probably wear off soon. "Just tell me what it is," he demanded, and now looked directly into her eyes.
She blinked and a tear finally escaped and rolled down her cheek. "You're hurting me," she said, struggling for him to let her arm go. She couldn't believe it. Ron wanted her to be the first to say how she felt, even when it was clear a few hours ago that they both felt something for each other. Was he that scared about what happened that he had to wait for her to make the first move this time? Or had he really forgotten all about it? Either way, she knew it was up to her to clear things up. And that this time, words just wouldn't be enough.
"Tell me, or I'll—" Malfoy didn't finish, because whatever he was going to say, he'd forgotten as soon as he felt Hermione's lips fall on his. It happened so quickly, he didn't have time to think, and unwillingly, he let his instincts take over. He closed his eyes as his hands released her arm, and automatically wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. It was the closest he'd been to her, and now he wondered how he ever thought that Granger was filthy. She felt so warm and sweet in his arms, and the way she was kissing him… He couldn't do anything but kiss her back, pushing her against the balcony in his eagerness to do so, not wanting to stop.
They broke apart and Malfoy's breath came in short gasps.
So did hers. And she clung even more tightly to him, feeling nothing behind her but air, knowing they were at least 15 feet from the ground below. But still, she felt safe, as she leaned her head onto his chest, feeling his warm embrace. She closed her eyes.
"Is that what it is?" he suddenly asked, bowing down to look at her. "You think Malfoy can't kiss?"
"I think," she started and looked up into his eyes. "that Malfoy can't feel what we do when we kiss," she said, giving him a soft smile.
He should've felt offended, but he didn't. Instead, he felt the corners of his mouth dangerously turning up as looked at her lips and noticed how pretty that smile of hers made her look. She just didn't know what she was saying. Whatever it was that she and Weasley felt, for sure, he felt about ten times better when she and him kissed. He had never felt anything stronger than it. He was completely smiling now, but it wasn't his usual wicked grin. It was… He didn't know what. Suddenly he froze, the audacity of what he just did becoming clearer to him, and then he pulled away abruptly, staggering as he stepped back.
"Ron, what—" Hermione paused she saw him. It was dark but the moonlight shone at his eyes clearly and there was anger in them, coldness, fury… She trembled.
The look on Malfoy's face was murderous and it didn't change when he saw her trembling, holding on to the balcony's railing for dear life, genuinely afraid. He clenched his jaw, but without another word, turned around and left.