Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.
To Keep it Simple
Previous Chapter
Hermione draped one hand around Draco's neck while he wrapped both of his about her waist. He pulled her towards him, her chest pressing into his. She could feel his heart beating in the distance, a faint thump thump that signified his existence—that proved she hadn't imagined the entire dilemma. His head turned to the side as it came upon Hermione's waiting lips, secretly needy emotions releasing as soon as they touched her corresponding ones. As they both closed their eyes, first years gasped and others watched, already used to the image.
"I swear, as soon as this is over, I am going to rip him to shreds," Ron threatened, his voice hollow. Harry roughly patted his friend on the shoulder, looking towards the ground.
"That was very believable acting, Draco," Pansy said.
"Yes—acting.."
Chapter 3- Progress
Hermione sat on the Gryffindor's plush red couch, Draco's arm loosely splayed across her shoulders. While he talked, he innocently toyed with a strand of her auburn hair, curling it around his finger, then letting it spring back to it's original position. He was much friendlier to children then he was to his equals.
Over the past few days, they had been forced into more and more encounters. With each one, though, it began to become less and less awkward. Their plan was apparently working for large numbers of first years would follow the two around whenever they came in contact. Hermione had to secretly admit to herself that she appreciated his company—maybe even enjoyed it. The times when she was free- she either studied or worked on homework, allowing little time for her to go on outings with Harry and Ron. The frequent escapades they had often had during their first few years at Hogwarts now dwindled to meager walks to and from the dining hall—and even then, there were few times that that occurred.
The first years sat quietly, green and black robes mixing with the red and gold ones. They had all taken the notion to greet each other beforehand—since after all, both of their houses' prefects had suggested it. Now, as the common room remained silent and hushed with the only sound being Draco's reassuring voice, all seemed at ease.
"How did you two meet?" the pigtailed girl who now had an uncontrollable obsession with Harry asked.
Hermione's mouth opened, but she could not say anything without thinking of Harry and Ron and how they rarely spoke anymore. She turned towards Draco, who had turned towards her for the same exact reason. A silence ensued and the first years began to whisper, causing other first years to grow impatient. Draco sensed the problem before Hermione could and quickly rose his voice.
"Well," he started off. "We… were at Hogsmeade…"
Hermione pulled up her long legs and swept them beneath her, letting them lay bent along the cushions of the couch. Draco turned his shoulders towards her and she copied his action. The first years hushed and leaned forward to hear Draco as his voice grew softer.
"And after she—slipped.. on a patch of ice—I helped her up and when I saw her, I knew that I had to ask her to go steady with me—and she said yes.." he said, fading off. Hermione watched, amazed at how the words simply flowed out of his mouth like honey. As the first years watched, Hermione and Draco unconsciously moved closer towards each other. Draco impelled forwards while Hermione watched through a hazy focus.
The only one who saw Draco's eyes widen in confusion was Draco himself. He had no reason to kiss her, yet he was doing so any ways. Worries began to escalate from within and he managed to pull himself to a stop when their foreheads touched. Hermione blinked at him, her chocolate eyes almost drowning Draco.
"But then she slipped again—since she was born clumsy."
The first years immediately broke into laughter as the auburn-haired witch stared lifelessly into the accommodating pools of gray. He wanted to scream for forgiveness, to take back what he'd said directly into her face, but he couldn't. Instead, his lips pulled into a smirk and he moved back to his languid position. Hermione turned back to face the group of children, somehow managing to hide the look of defeat deep within herself.
Professor McGonagall agreed that the first session between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors had gone well. Even though marks were slowly making their way up, less fights were breaking out and Filch was no longer setting traps intentionally meant for first years. Seeing as that the only problem still existed with those two houses, Dumbledore agreed to have Draco and Hermione act as chaperones for the extracurricular activity planned by Hagrid. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall specifically asked the grounds keeper herself to keep large animals out of the picture.
As two lines trudged out to the Quidditch grounds, Hermione and Draco began conversing.
"How many sessions are left?" Hermione quietly whispered.
"Why the bloody hell are you asking me?" he sharply replied. She rolled her eyes and waved to Hagrid as his massive figure loomed in the distance.
"All righ' ermione', I've got em' under control. Yeh two jus' run along now," he said as he cast shadows along the snow. Several first years watched him, a look of terror hidden in their eyes, while others smiled and awaited their instructions. Seeing as that the children looked moderately safe, Draco stuck out his elbow and led Hermione off the field to a bench nearby.
They watched as the first years were divided into two different groups, a mixture of Slytherins and Gryffindors in each. Hagrid pulled out several boards of uneven sizes, handing the same amount to either team. Hermione remembered this teamwork-building activity from a muggle summer camp that her parents had sent her to. It wasn't too hard of a thing to accomplish, now that she knew how to do so. Draco turned towards Hermione and stared at her as she gazed off into the distance.
"Aren't you the least bit frustrated that you're out here instead of in there—studying or writing up a paper?" he asked.
"Actually, no. I love the winter weather and watching first years walk around like clueless gits, surprisingly enough, provides a better source of entertainment then reading," she sarcastically replied. "And you?"
"There's nothing for me to do inside."
Hermione nodded, not wanting to dig further into his answer. She turned back towards the field. So far neither team had made progress and Hagrid was holding two children up by the collars of their robes. They swung back and forth like pendulums as they gathered momentum from their non-stop kicking and fidgeting. Hermione laughed, but quickly covered her mouth with a gloved hand.
"I would have bet anything that if we had done that our first year, you and Harry would be the two first years in Hagrid's possession," she said with a smile.
"Why Potter and not Weasel? He seems like he has it in for me just as much as your other friend."
"What do you mean?" she asked, turning to look at him.
"The last time we put on a show, he stood there, fuming like a mother gorilla—he loves you, you know that, Granger?" he said, finishing with a raise of his brow. He threw his hand along the back of the bench, leaving the other one thrown across his lap—his usual lethargic position.
"Of course, I know that—and I love him too. Your point?"
"Not that type of love, Granger," Draco bluntly revealed. Hermione nervously wrung her robe as she thought this over. It was highly possible, considering that they had been friends for so long—but it could not be love, merely a mutual understanding between two peoples. It was probably a phase for Ron.
"Well," Hermione finally answered, taking in a deep breath of cool winter air. "He'll get married, have children, then think back about it and he'll remember it as just a crush."
She smiled weakly, trying to reassure herself of this. Draco watched her out of the corners of his eyes. He smiled—somewhat—but when he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, he could only feel tense muscles and nerves.
"Don't think about it," he suggested with a shrug of his shoulders. When they turned back to look, the two teams were neck and neck, halfway across the designated space using the boards as their bridge. Some of them still bickered, but the majority seemed to understand the fundamentals of working together.
"Is that the advice you use when it comes to you and Pansy?" she asked, turning to look at him.
Draco laughed—a convincing chuckle that sent shivers of pleasure down her spine—and turned to look at Hermione, a smile the only remnant of his laughter.
"She looks like an overexcited pug half the time— it's the best advice to use when it comes to remaining sane.."
Hermione laughed and he laughed too—the sound completely new to both of their ears. He was no longer trying to lace his voice with venom or she trying to force her giggles to sound genuine. While Hermione was still trying to control her bouts of laughter, Draco leaned forwards. He cupped her chin in his hand, which immediately silenced her and drew close. She lost herself as he kissed her lips sore, ravishing—gently—all the emotion that he could from her. He needed to know about her—needed to know if she accepted him as he was and not as a prop to gain further access to future occupations. However, before he could receive the console that he so desperately craved, the hoots of first years could be heard. A throng of children began to trample towards them, a dust of snow rising in their wake. Hagrid stood, helpless with several planks of wood in his hands, in the background, left alone on the Quidditch field. The two quickly pulled apart as they were attacked by pint-sized witches and wizards.
In her head, Hermione believed that the kiss had been another show. She'd thought it was something more at first and had almost willed herself to respond in a more soothing way. Draco had pulled away too quickly and too many children had rushed up to ask questions. She felt like she had lost again.
Some of them were soaking wet—Hermione suggested that they go back inside—so Draco led the troupe back to their dormitories. On their way through the corridors to Gryffindor Tower, Draco managed to send off the Slytherin first years to clean themselves up before lunch. It was their free day so what they did after that was none of his business. He held hands with Hermione as he helped her walk the group of first years to their dorms. Plagued with questions and comments, the two barely had any time to discuss anything by themselves.
When they reached the painting of the fat lady, Hermione uttered the password and the "door" swung open. All the first years scrambled inside and headed towards the common room, leaving Hermione outside with a doleful looking Draco.
"I.. will see you later, then," Hermione said quietly as Draco took both of her hands.
"Later.." he whispered to himself, as if he didn't understand the meaning of the word. With innocent eyes, he stared down at Hermione. Like a hawk, he swooped down on her lips. She pressed hers back against his, their tongues dancing a dangerous tango of emotion. They both closed their eyes and for the duration of the brief exchange of broken affection, there were no problems standing in their way. Hearing voices, Hermione pulled away, much to Draco's reluctance. Her lips were sore and her cheeks—probably flushed. She gave Draco a departing glance, knowing that their stares were more then words could ever say. Plus—the truth could only be explained in words and though they already knew what it was, they willed themselves to go against it.
Draco turned and headed down a moving staircase, disappearing before Harry and Ron headed down the corridor. The portrait of the fat lady swung closed right before they arrived before her and once again uttered the password. As they clambered into the room, Harry holding his Quidditch broom and Ron looking rather excited, Hermione slipped into her bedroom, afraid to face the world.
In order for the act to seem even more believable, Hermione and Draco sat together during all meals, surrounded by a variety of students from all four houses. Hermione noticed for the first time while eating dinner that evening—Ron and Harry sat at another table- surrounded by such familiar faces as Thomas Dean and Lavender Brown. Most of the Gryffindors continued to talk with Hermione—but one in particular chose to avoid her more and more as time passed by. While everybody engaged in conversation, Draco turned towards Hermione.
"So you're finally taking notice of Weasel," Draco said. Inside, he felt an indescribable itch that felt like something inside him was being twisted. He wasn't sure of what it was—but he imagined that it was an emotion associated with Hermione and Ron. When ever Hermione looked at her former best friend, the pain would strike Draco's insides again.
"I can't believe I didn't notice before, Malfoy—how long has it been?" she asked.
"About two and a half weeks," he replied. Hermione winced at her own stupidity and ignorance. However, there was little she could do now. As he sat, happily laughing with Harry, he had no doubt deleted her from his memory. Draco had been right about one thing—she had loved Ron at one point. She turned and hesitantly prodded the slice of pumpkin pie on her plate with her fork. Draco looked at her uneasiness and laced his fingers with hers beneath the table.
As she turned to glance at Ron one more time, she saw the look of joy on his face. What had she done by agreeing to this plan with Draco? Then again, it was his hand that was alleviating her shattered nerves. By gaining one companion, she had to lose another. In order to prevent herself from shedding pointless tears, she squeezed Draco's hand. He barely showed any signs of pain, if she was strong enough to cause any, and instead, continued laughing with the other members of the table.
When Hermione finally relieved all the stress on Draco's hand, she realized that his fingers were probably lacking the circulation of blood and in severe pain from all her rage. However, to her surprise, she felt a noticeable but faint reassuring squeeze. She turned to Draco, but he was busy putting on a show—to the world.