Hermione was startled by the sound of footsteps echoing through the once empty corridor, and she found herself peering through the darkness, paralyzed by the fear of being caught awake and out of her dormitory at such an hour. She'd been standing near the large, medieval looking window, staring at the cloudless, starry sky. The full moon's silvery light had abolished all need of magic, but she knew, at the sound of footsteps, it would be what got her caught. Angry at herself for her own foolish carelessness, she slid down into the corner, against the door that led into one of the older History of Magic classrooms, and avoided the pale strip of moonlight. She knew there was nothing she could do other than that, unless she wanted to risk them hearing her as she magically unlocked the classroom door and disappeared inside.
She sat in tense silence, listening carefully for each footstep. She began to breathe easy as she told herself that no teacher at Hogwarts could have footsteps like that…unless it was Professor Snape. They were loud and echoing, obviously the footsteps of a man or a rather large woman, and they were cautious, stalking steps, as though this man, or rather large woman, expected to find something hiding in the shadows. A sharp intake of breath followed after that conclusion, and she felt for sure she'd been caught. She prepared to stand up, until she heard a male voice, cool and emotionless, utter Lumos. The voice chilled her down to the very core, and she knew for certain whom it was. Hermione rose cautiously, and in the pale moonlight, she met with the silvery stare of Draco Malfoy. His face was blank, lacking his usual smirk, but his cool eyes were as cruel as ever, stabbing her like daggers without any of his effort.
"Tsk tsk, Malfoy," she taunted, shooting him with her own poison before he could strike, and she felt her own eyes turn to ice as she looked upon him. "What are you doing roaming Hogwarts at this time of night?" She knew, however, when she left her bed, that Draco had been heavy in sleep. He had a bad habit of snoring, and she was able to hear it as she tiptoed down her staircase and out of their dormitory. As Head Boy and Head Girl, they were forced to share a common room, and she must've awoken him as she tried to find her way out of it in the dark, which had been an unpredicted disaster.
"Why are you awake, Granger?" His voice was cold, as usual, but tonight it was trembling with anger. She felt his eyes slide down her body, and she shivered as though she'd been dunked in icy water. She opened her mouth to respond in her own venomous tone, but, unsure of the strength of her voice, she closed it and unconsciously reached up to wipe away any surviving tears. She knew, before finishing, this had been her demise. "Crying over Potter?"
"Shut it!" She shouted, sure that Draco would be pleased to have found a touchy subject, but much to her surprise, the corners of his lips did not curve into his satisfied smirk. His face remained blank and his eyes remained cruel. Hermione's pain seemed to have brought him no pleasure that night, and she was left shocked. Silently, he put his wand away, and Hermione found herself staring in wonder at his face, illuminated by the pale and silvery moonlight. He's always wore night so beautifully. I never will understand that. Hermione's eyes widened in horror, realizing she'd just thought to herself that Draco was beautiful.
He's so much more than Harry, though, isn't he? When it comes to looks, anyway. It was their last year of Hogwarts, and Harry had yet to grow out of his teenage awkwardness. He was still bony and slightly scrawny, and his hair looked as though it was never brushed. He was still soft-spoken, and stammered slightly when he spoke sweetly to her. She'd always assumed he'd grow out of that, but he hadn't. Draco on the other hand…Draco stood tall and well-sculpted, his face reminding Hermione of a strong and ancient Greek statue. He was sleek and sophisticated, witty and intimidating. Hermione felt her own eyes drawn down the green silk of his pajamas, looking desperately for a button he may've missed.
After a moment, she grew awkward in his stare, and finally decided to speak up. "Cat got your tongue, Malfoy? Can't think of an insult?" This wasn't half as cruel as the last, and she was somehow surprised by it. She scolded herself silently for thinking of him in such a way and shifted her gaze down towards the floor. "If you're not going to speak to me Malfoy, then I'm going to go back to bed." She began a quick, anxious walk back to her dormitory, leaving him where he stood, staring hopelessly out of the window.
"Why…" His voice killed the silence and left her standing in the middle of the darkened corridor, frozen in suspense of what he might finally say. Much to her surprise, his usual icy, venomous voice had been replaced by a rather emotional choke. "Why are you with Potter, Hermione?" She stood, staring helplessly at the back of his head. His hair seemed silvery in the moonlight, and he looked almost ethereal, as though this were a Hogwarts ghost playing a trick on her. Hermione… The word tugged at her heartstrings, and it sounded so foreign coming from Draco's perfect lips. It was rare for him to use her first name instead of 'Granger' or 'Mudblood'.
"What would it matter to you, Draco?" That new word tasted odd as it left her mouth, and it reminded her of a colorless jellybean. She couldn't quite guess the flavor. She couldn't decide whether this new feeling was one good or one bad. She couldn't even decide why it was such a big deal to feel his name, Draco, on her tongue. Probably because you'd like his tongue in your mouth… It wasn't her voice that had said it from within her, but Harry's. She could easily see Harry's eyes narrow in anger at the mere thought of Hermione kissing Draco. Break up with me and kiss Draco? Are you trying to kill me?
You nearly killed me, Harry. I don't appreciate being second to Cho, even after all this time. Shut up will you? I'm not going to kiss him. It was you that said it. Wait, you're not even real. Bugger off Harry, or conscience, or whoever the hell I'm speaking to. She thought she was going insane. It felt so betraying to be standing there, in a darkened corridor, with Draco Malfoy.
"It…it doesn't matter," he replied, still refusing to look at her. His voice seemed empty and tired, almost as though he was finally fed up with her. "I was just wondering what Wonder Boy would see in such a filthy Mudblood like you, Granger." She could almost see the walls he'd brought back up. Hermione, frustrated, paced towards him and raised her hand to slap him. She bit down on her lip in anger, and the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.
"Harry is everything you aren't! He is kind! He is noble! He is caring and valiant! Harry does good, and spiteful, cruel people like you do not intimidate him. Draco, I love Harry and if…if you don't watch what you say about me…or Harry…or Ron, I'll…" She spoke defiantly, yet stopped, unable to think of what she could do to him. This was when Draco's smirk came to life, finally, and he caught her tightly by the wrist and pinned her slapping arm to her back. A smug look of satisfaction shined on his face as he ferociously slammed her against the cool, stone wall of Hogwarts.
"Or you'll sick Wonder Boy, on me?" The look on his face reminded her of a rabid dog, a cruel, hungry snarl. His voice was full of anger and hate as he spoke, spitting Wonder Boy as often and cynically as he could. "What does Potter have that I don't, Granger? What is so great about Harry Potter?" Hermione stared at him, speechless, hatred brewing in her eyes like black tea. She opened her mouth to insult him, finally, but Draco struck first.
He kissed her. It was a hot, lusty kiss that left Hermione taken aback, and for a moment she struggled underneath his weight, too shocked and surprised to kiss him back. Kiss him back? Are you insane?! This is Malfoy! Hermione stop it! But she knew that wasn't her talking…it couldn't be…and she found herself melting ever so slowly, eventually kissing him back as forcefully as he had intruded her.
Her flesh burned as it came in contact with his, and she found herself trembling against him as she kissed him with all the fire and passion she could muster. Harry had never, ever kissed her like this. With a single kiss, Draco had managed to make her insides flutter and her legs quiver and shake like Jello underneath her. His grip on her wrists only tightened, making it impossible for her to get away, but by this time, Hermione did not want to. He kissed her until he couldn't take it anymore, and pulled away, leaving Hermione trembling and desperate for more.
"Hermione, you taste like blood." Hermione did not respond or struggle to get away; she only stared at him with a new curiosity and wonder. "What? That? That was nothing, Granger." He released his tight grip on her wrist and pressed his forehead against hers. "I want you, Hermione. I didn't know of any other way to show you. Don't fight me. Malfoys always get what they want, you know."
Draco was everything Harry wasn't. He was vicious. He was cruel. He had mystery. There was something in him that was thoroughly unpredictable, and she was just waiting for it to snap again, just like when he'd slammed her against the wall. His eyes narrowed as he watched her inspecting him, and they reminded her of the eyes of a viper as it was beginning to strike.
But what would Draco want in her? She'd certainly grown out of the bushy-haired, unattractive stage. Her hair was now long and straight, wistful and dainty from the magic she did every morning, and she'd found plenty of make-up during holiday at Muggle stores. It was one thing she did insist on during without magic, satisfied by the process every morning. These changes were the only thing that had managed to make Harry realize she was a girl, and she was afraid to change anything. Yet, despite her change in looks, she had Muggle parents, something Draco or his family didn't approve of. What would drive Malfoy to want a Mudblood?
Harry Potter.