Chapter 18: Preparing For Valentines Day
Hey guys! Thank you so much for supporting this fic so far. It really means a lot to me. We are definitely within the second half of it now, so yes, that's good. We're beginning to reach the section of the fic where all of the clues are going to fall into place, just like they do in the Harry Potter books.
Sorry guys, but I'm not doing reviews this time. I'll do them next time though.
OK, and also, sorry this chapter took a while. I really haven't been in the writing mood lately. That's just me, I guess. Anyway, this is a new chapter for you all.
DISCLAIMER: I own stuff, but no cool characters and such.
Let's begin
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione and Malfoy got to work on the Potion, neither of them talking much. Hermione was thinking about why she'd really had such a terrible time sleeping that night.
She'd been thinking more about what she was thinking about on Saturday. She'd been getting dreams, some Keduas, and some not. The not ones were ones about her approaching Malfoy and telling him what she was beginning to feel for him. Malfoy would then say the same kind of thing back, and suddenly wild love-making would occur.
Hermione wrinkled her nose. Ew, she thought to herself. She was still having trouble completely coming to grips with what she was feeling, and was hoping she'd be able to block it off all together. Malfoy had changed, yes, but there was no way he'd go for Hermione, a common muggle-born. No, he's probably already got a planned marriage to some Arabian pureblood beauty, as delicately evil as Malfoys own family.
Malfoy accidently spilled some of the now-finished potion onto Hermiones hand.
'Ooh, sorry Granger. Are you all ri—wow! Hey, look!'
Hermione looked. She saw a cut she had on her palm slowly sealing itself shut right before her eyes. She stared, open-mouthed, at it. She then turned to face Malfoy, who was also staring at it.
'It still leaves a scar,' Malfoy said, after a pause in conversation.
'All the cuts I get leave scars. See?' Hermione pointed to the scar on her cheek, where her first injury related to Keduas syndrome occurred.
'Right.'
After another moment of silence, Malfoy said 'Well, what are we waiting for? Let's use this on your other injuries.'
'Wait,' said Hermione. 'Didn't Professor Snape say it should be drunk?'
'Yes,' replied Malfoy. He waved his arm up in the air. 'Professor Snape! Come have a look at this!'
Professor Snape lazily got off his chair and meandered over to Hermione and Malfoy.
'I spilt some of this on a cut Hermione had on her wrist, and it healed. But you said it should be drunk.'
Snape looked at Hermiones hand. He then raised his eyebrows. 'Interesting,' he said. 'That shouldn't happen.'
He magicked himself a piece of parchment, and wrote it down. 'Ask me about this next lesson. I'll be able to tell you why that happened. For now, I suggest just doing it the regular way.'
Snape then walked away, and Hermione and Malfoy were left to dazedly finish the potion.
The bell rang, and Hermione and Malfoy quickly packed up and left. Malfoy looked over at Hermione and said 'We need to start preparing for Valentines Day, you know.'
Hermione had forgotten about Valentines Day. She raised her eyebrows and said 'fair enough. What do we have to do?'
'Well it would be great if you could figure out a spell that would have confetti continuously flying upwards in the great hall.'
'Upwards?'
'Yeah. It's an opposite-day, remember?'
Hermione smiled dazily. 'Oh yeah . . .'
Malfoy rapped Hermione on the head. 'Anyone at home?'
'Quit it.' She said, feeling her face start to redden.
'So yeah. Could you work that out as soon as possible?'
'Sure.'
'Great.' With that, Malfoy turned around and swept off, Hermione gazing at a point above his head, not really thinking.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Malfoy was walking along the corridor, at around lunchtime, when he suddenly ran into Harry and Ron.
Well, suddenly, according to Malfoy. Harry and Ron had purposely ran into Malfoy, in order to catch him off his guard.
'We need to talk to you,' said Harry.
'Oh yeah?' asked Malfoy, raising his eyebrows sceptically. 'What about?'
'Hermione.'
Malfoys eyebrows immediately relaxed, and a faint look of concern appeared on his face. Harry and Ron noticed it though, and glanced at each other for a second.
'What about her?'
'We wanna know how we couldn't wake her up when that Nikolas bastard knocked her unconscious, but you were able to.'
Malfoy shrugged, hands in his pockets. 'I dunno. I would have thought she'd wake up to either of you two, but she didn't.' He shrugged again. 'Maybe there's something about me that she needed then that she wasn't getting from either of you.'
Ron narrowed his eyes. 'Are you saying you're better then us?' he asked.
Malfoy sighed. 'No. I'm just saying that maybe in Grangers eyes, I'm different to you two. Not necessarily better or worse. Just different. And it was that difference she needed then. I really don't know.'
Harry saw Rons mouth open to argue, and stepped on his foot to stop him. 'Fair enough . . . but Hermione's our friend and has been for longer then she has been yours. We've known her longer . . . we've cared for her longer . . . why couldn't we save her?'
Malfoy looked directly into Harrys eyes then. 'Don't presume that, just because I haven't been her friend for as long, I don't care about her as much as you, Potter. Because I really care for her.'
He paused and stepped up to Harry, so their faces were about 30cm apart.
'More then you know.'
And with that, he strode off, leaving Harry standing there, Ron slightly behind him, both in deep confusion.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Professor Dumbledore was an honest man. He was never the sort of person who would do something behind someone elses back, unless he knew it would work out for the better. He heard gossip, but would only tell anybody else what he heard if he felt it relevant and necessary to know. He only did what he believed would turn something overall out for the better, and he respected EVERYBODY, whether they were the minister of magic or a house elf. Everybody except people or demonic creatures whose only intention in life was to hurt other lives, much more innocent then their own.
So how was it, then, that he managed to find out what Malfoy was feeling, without Malfoy really knowing it himself?
It was through no fault of his own. The whole thing started straight after Malfoy walked away from Harry and Ron, and he walked up to Professor Dumbledore's office and called out 'It's Draco Malfoy. I have things to discuss with you, Professor.'
'Ahh right, Mr. Malfoy,' he replied. 'Come on in.'
Malfoy whisked himself up the stairs and sat himself down opposite Professor Dumbledore's desk.
'I won't keep you for too long, Professor.' He said. I need to ask your permission for the Heads and I to create a celebration for Valentines Day.'
'Valentines Day?' asked the Professor, looking slightly bemused. 'You weren't thinking of doing anything like what happened five years ago, are you?'
Malfoy remembered back to that memorable day with Professor Idiot (Lockhart) wearing his bright pink robes, and him laughing at Potter after the strange Cupid Helper thingy gave Harry a Valentine. Ahh, he thought to himself. Good times.
'No, no, nothing like that. We were thinking of making it a more opposite day sort of thing. An idea one of the 5th Year Prefects thought up, and quite a good one, if I do say so myself.'
'Fair enough Mr Malfoy,' replied the Professor. 'I agree to this. You and Miss Granger shall, I'm sure, do a very good job.'
'Yes.' Said Malfoy. 'Granger is surely clever, isn't she?'
Professor Dumbledore noticed a change in Malfoys expression when Hermione's name was mentioned. He raised his eyebrows slightly.
And that's when it happened.
Professor Dumbledore was a very gifted man, but there was only one time he had ever become an empath before. A time 55 years ago, when Tom Riddle had approached him about the death of the young girl, Myrtle. As Tom walked away, Dumbledore suddenly felt an overwhelming amount of glee, of pride, of happiness. Happiness that Tom had succeeded in what he had wanted to do. It lasted for 10 seconds, and then it was over. A less steady man would have been extremely shaken. Dumbledore was only mildly puzzled, but at the same time grateful, because that was how he found out that Tom was the guilty one, as opposed to Hagrid, which is what everyone thought.
Dumbledore had just not had the power back then to prevent the board from expelling him.
And 55 years later, with Malfoy sitting there opposite him, Dumbledore felt a sudden wave of happiness, mixed with nervousness, mixed with awe. Dumbledore hadn't really felt an emotion quite like this for a long long time. But he recognised it.
It couldn't be, but for some reason it was. Malfoy was feeling . . . love.
10 seconds later it was gone. Dumbledore was pretty pleased at how he had hidden it, because Malfoy seemed none the wiser.
'Indeed she is, Mr Malfoy,' he said to him. 'Now I must apologise for seeming just slightly rude, but I have remembered something that does rather urgently need to be done, and so I will have to ask you to leave. Thank you for coming, however.'
'No problem sir,' replied Malfoy. He stood up and walked steadily over to the door.
Professor Dumbledore stood up after he'd left, and steadily paced the room.
So Mr Malfoy felt strong emotions for Miss Granger. Emotions that even he, perhaps, did not know about. Isn't that strange, considering how much they really hated each other before they became co-Head's of the school?
Perhaps this all started when Miss Granger got sick . . .
Of course! There we have it! Mr Malfoy is Miss Granger's cure!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next day during free period, Hermione went in to the Quiet Room to practise the charm Malfoy had asked her to do. She'd had the idea of combining two charms; one that made the confetti and one that turned the stream of things the other way around, and was trying to figure out the best and most effective way of combining them. As always with creating a new spell, this took some effort.
At one point Malfoy arrived to see her there hard at work.
'How's it going?' he asked.
'All right.' Hermione gave him a smile, before flicking her wand and saying 'confetreverto!' The room suddenly filled with this strange confetti flying upwards. Hermione grinned broadly.
'Wow!' said Malfoy, looking at it all. You amaze me Granger.'
'Oh I do, do I?'
'Yes,' replied Malfoy. 'In many many ways.'
Hermione grinned and blushed slightly.
Malfoy stood up, stood before her, and bowed, before extending his hand. 'Care to dance?' he asked in an overly posh British accent.
'With pleasure,' Hermione replied, taking his hand. 'Do you know how to waltz?'
'Why young Miss Granger, I have been doing since the mellow age of five.'
'Really? How so?'
'It was required of my society to know how.'
Hermione and Malfoy began then to dance the very graceful, moving dance. Hermione smiled up at him. 'You know your stuff, don't you?' she said.
'This is kind of thrilling,' Hermione said, smiling.
Malfoy grinned. 'That was always the idea of dancing, I think. A social experience. Perhaps a chance to show off your abilities; your strength; your ability to woo others.'
'Yeah, I bet you wooed the others all the time when you were dancing it at 6.' Hermione said sarcastically.
Malfoy smiled again. 'Or perhaps to be wooed by someone.'
'Why? Did you fall in love with a dancer when you were 6?' asked Hermione. 'Cute.'
Malfoy grinned. 'We aren't allowed to love in my society, however. Or rather, we choose not to.'
Malfoy lifted his arm so Hermione could twirl around it, and at one point he spun her around, then she spun back, him catching her and sort of leaning her back, in a graceful finale movement.
'But I've always been a rebel,' Malfoy concluded.
Hermione smiled. 'So you did fall in love with a dancing partner.'
Malfoy ran a hand along the side of Hermiones face. 'I fell in love with many.'
With that, he lifted Hermione up, so that they were both standing.
'But they never returned my love.'
'That's sad,' replied Hermione.
'Not really,' said Malfoy. 'It taught me that to love is only to be hurt, because the one you love will hardly ever return your affection.'
'That's not the nicest thing to say,' said Hermione.
'But it's true. Surely you've loved someone before, and they've sort of shrugged at you and moved on.'
Hermione shrugged, looking down at the ground and hoping her face wasn't turning red again. 'Maybe. But I think it will be worth it in the end.'
'Are you in love with anyone at the moment Granger?'
Hermione just shook her head at him then. 'That's personal, Malfoy.'
Malfoy scoffed. 'Like that's ever stopped anyone before. Maybe you should tell me who it is, Granger . . . then we'll see if he returns his affections.'
'I doubt he will,' said Hermione, slightly forlornly.
'Well there you go,' he said, shrugging. 'Tell me if it's worth it, after Valentines Day.' And with that he vanished.
Hermione sighed and flopped down on the sofa. It was really frustrating, trying to fight away this newfound love she seemed to be having for her Co- Head-of-School.
But she wasn't entirely sure any more that she wanted to stop it any more. It wasn't as if she was giving up. It was more as if she didn't want to try and block something that was becoming so real, and blocking it would just make her lifeless, loveless.
Malfoy asked if it was worth the pain. Hermione decided it was. Love was that emotion, that single emotion that led people to do the most spectacular, or the most stupid things. Love was what Hermione had felt for her mother. Her mother was gone now, and she felt terrible, aching, with grief. But she would rather that then having never known her and shared those experiences with her at all. And she knew that deep down she would get over it, and remember the good things about her mother, and laugh and be happy when she thought of her.
But, despite her decision to not block out love, she wasn't sure at all whether she would ever feel happiness when it came to Malfoy.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Malfoy was walking across the lawns of the school. It was something he did a lot, mainly because his father had always thought that one should have a clear mind before going to bed. This was a rare thing about his father Malfoy agreed with, so he would do it whenever he felt slightly tense, and something was plaguing his mind.
He was looking at his hand; the one he'd used to touch Hermione's face just a while back. She'd felt warm . . . and quite soft; like she used some sort of exfoliating lotion.
Malfoy shook his head to himself. He wasn't sure why he'd done that. He also wasn't sure why he'd told Hermione those things about his childhood, dancing the tango with ladies twice his age, and falling in love with quite a few of them, before realising they had boyfriends. That must have been why Malfoys never learn to love. It just brings pain and destruction to the world.
He had a feeling he'd done it because Hermione had been telling him so much about herself, and he was just returning the favour. Made sense, after all. He trusted Hermione to keep his secrets, and he trusted her not to laugh at him. He presumed she trusted him to do that too. In fact, he was sure of it, with the way she looked at him and spoke to him. The way her face lit up when she smiled, and her eyes, soft brown in colour, smiled at him . . .
Woah, he seemed to have lost track of himself there.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Bit of a silly yet serious note there I'm ending it with. Man, I got glasses a few days ago, and they're so strange! Anyway, review, oh please review! I swear I will answer the reviews next time!
Hey guys! Thank you so much for supporting this fic so far. It really means a lot to me. We are definitely within the second half of it now, so yes, that's good. We're beginning to reach the section of the fic where all of the clues are going to fall into place, just like they do in the Harry Potter books.
Sorry guys, but I'm not doing reviews this time. I'll do them next time though.
OK, and also, sorry this chapter took a while. I really haven't been in the writing mood lately. That's just me, I guess. Anyway, this is a new chapter for you all.
DISCLAIMER: I own stuff, but no cool characters and such.
Let's begin
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione and Malfoy got to work on the Potion, neither of them talking much. Hermione was thinking about why she'd really had such a terrible time sleeping that night.
She'd been thinking more about what she was thinking about on Saturday. She'd been getting dreams, some Keduas, and some not. The not ones were ones about her approaching Malfoy and telling him what she was beginning to feel for him. Malfoy would then say the same kind of thing back, and suddenly wild love-making would occur.
Hermione wrinkled her nose. Ew, she thought to herself. She was still having trouble completely coming to grips with what she was feeling, and was hoping she'd be able to block it off all together. Malfoy had changed, yes, but there was no way he'd go for Hermione, a common muggle-born. No, he's probably already got a planned marriage to some Arabian pureblood beauty, as delicately evil as Malfoys own family.
Malfoy accidently spilled some of the now-finished potion onto Hermiones hand.
'Ooh, sorry Granger. Are you all ri—wow! Hey, look!'
Hermione looked. She saw a cut she had on her palm slowly sealing itself shut right before her eyes. She stared, open-mouthed, at it. She then turned to face Malfoy, who was also staring at it.
'It still leaves a scar,' Malfoy said, after a pause in conversation.
'All the cuts I get leave scars. See?' Hermione pointed to the scar on her cheek, where her first injury related to Keduas syndrome occurred.
'Right.'
After another moment of silence, Malfoy said 'Well, what are we waiting for? Let's use this on your other injuries.'
'Wait,' said Hermione. 'Didn't Professor Snape say it should be drunk?'
'Yes,' replied Malfoy. He waved his arm up in the air. 'Professor Snape! Come have a look at this!'
Professor Snape lazily got off his chair and meandered over to Hermione and Malfoy.
'I spilt some of this on a cut Hermione had on her wrist, and it healed. But you said it should be drunk.'
Snape looked at Hermiones hand. He then raised his eyebrows. 'Interesting,' he said. 'That shouldn't happen.'
He magicked himself a piece of parchment, and wrote it down. 'Ask me about this next lesson. I'll be able to tell you why that happened. For now, I suggest just doing it the regular way.'
Snape then walked away, and Hermione and Malfoy were left to dazedly finish the potion.
The bell rang, and Hermione and Malfoy quickly packed up and left. Malfoy looked over at Hermione and said 'We need to start preparing for Valentines Day, you know.'
Hermione had forgotten about Valentines Day. She raised her eyebrows and said 'fair enough. What do we have to do?'
'Well it would be great if you could figure out a spell that would have confetti continuously flying upwards in the great hall.'
'Upwards?'
'Yeah. It's an opposite-day, remember?'
Hermione smiled dazily. 'Oh yeah . . .'
Malfoy rapped Hermione on the head. 'Anyone at home?'
'Quit it.' She said, feeling her face start to redden.
'So yeah. Could you work that out as soon as possible?'
'Sure.'
'Great.' With that, Malfoy turned around and swept off, Hermione gazing at a point above his head, not really thinking.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Malfoy was walking along the corridor, at around lunchtime, when he suddenly ran into Harry and Ron.
Well, suddenly, according to Malfoy. Harry and Ron had purposely ran into Malfoy, in order to catch him off his guard.
'We need to talk to you,' said Harry.
'Oh yeah?' asked Malfoy, raising his eyebrows sceptically. 'What about?'
'Hermione.'
Malfoys eyebrows immediately relaxed, and a faint look of concern appeared on his face. Harry and Ron noticed it though, and glanced at each other for a second.
'What about her?'
'We wanna know how we couldn't wake her up when that Nikolas bastard knocked her unconscious, but you were able to.'
Malfoy shrugged, hands in his pockets. 'I dunno. I would have thought she'd wake up to either of you two, but she didn't.' He shrugged again. 'Maybe there's something about me that she needed then that she wasn't getting from either of you.'
Ron narrowed his eyes. 'Are you saying you're better then us?' he asked.
Malfoy sighed. 'No. I'm just saying that maybe in Grangers eyes, I'm different to you two. Not necessarily better or worse. Just different. And it was that difference she needed then. I really don't know.'
Harry saw Rons mouth open to argue, and stepped on his foot to stop him. 'Fair enough . . . but Hermione's our friend and has been for longer then she has been yours. We've known her longer . . . we've cared for her longer . . . why couldn't we save her?'
Malfoy looked directly into Harrys eyes then. 'Don't presume that, just because I haven't been her friend for as long, I don't care about her as much as you, Potter. Because I really care for her.'
He paused and stepped up to Harry, so their faces were about 30cm apart.
'More then you know.'
And with that, he strode off, leaving Harry standing there, Ron slightly behind him, both in deep confusion.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Professor Dumbledore was an honest man. He was never the sort of person who would do something behind someone elses back, unless he knew it would work out for the better. He heard gossip, but would only tell anybody else what he heard if he felt it relevant and necessary to know. He only did what he believed would turn something overall out for the better, and he respected EVERYBODY, whether they were the minister of magic or a house elf. Everybody except people or demonic creatures whose only intention in life was to hurt other lives, much more innocent then their own.
So how was it, then, that he managed to find out what Malfoy was feeling, without Malfoy really knowing it himself?
It was through no fault of his own. The whole thing started straight after Malfoy walked away from Harry and Ron, and he walked up to Professor Dumbledore's office and called out 'It's Draco Malfoy. I have things to discuss with you, Professor.'
'Ahh right, Mr. Malfoy,' he replied. 'Come on in.'
Malfoy whisked himself up the stairs and sat himself down opposite Professor Dumbledore's desk.
'I won't keep you for too long, Professor.' He said. I need to ask your permission for the Heads and I to create a celebration for Valentines Day.'
'Valentines Day?' asked the Professor, looking slightly bemused. 'You weren't thinking of doing anything like what happened five years ago, are you?'
Malfoy remembered back to that memorable day with Professor Idiot (Lockhart) wearing his bright pink robes, and him laughing at Potter after the strange Cupid Helper thingy gave Harry a Valentine. Ahh, he thought to himself. Good times.
'No, no, nothing like that. We were thinking of making it a more opposite day sort of thing. An idea one of the 5th Year Prefects thought up, and quite a good one, if I do say so myself.'
'Fair enough Mr Malfoy,' replied the Professor. 'I agree to this. You and Miss Granger shall, I'm sure, do a very good job.'
'Yes.' Said Malfoy. 'Granger is surely clever, isn't she?'
Professor Dumbledore noticed a change in Malfoys expression when Hermione's name was mentioned. He raised his eyebrows slightly.
And that's when it happened.
Professor Dumbledore was a very gifted man, but there was only one time he had ever become an empath before. A time 55 years ago, when Tom Riddle had approached him about the death of the young girl, Myrtle. As Tom walked away, Dumbledore suddenly felt an overwhelming amount of glee, of pride, of happiness. Happiness that Tom had succeeded in what he had wanted to do. It lasted for 10 seconds, and then it was over. A less steady man would have been extremely shaken. Dumbledore was only mildly puzzled, but at the same time grateful, because that was how he found out that Tom was the guilty one, as opposed to Hagrid, which is what everyone thought.
Dumbledore had just not had the power back then to prevent the board from expelling him.
And 55 years later, with Malfoy sitting there opposite him, Dumbledore felt a sudden wave of happiness, mixed with nervousness, mixed with awe. Dumbledore hadn't really felt an emotion quite like this for a long long time. But he recognised it.
It couldn't be, but for some reason it was. Malfoy was feeling . . . love.
10 seconds later it was gone. Dumbledore was pretty pleased at how he had hidden it, because Malfoy seemed none the wiser.
'Indeed she is, Mr Malfoy,' he said to him. 'Now I must apologise for seeming just slightly rude, but I have remembered something that does rather urgently need to be done, and so I will have to ask you to leave. Thank you for coming, however.'
'No problem sir,' replied Malfoy. He stood up and walked steadily over to the door.
Professor Dumbledore stood up after he'd left, and steadily paced the room.
So Mr Malfoy felt strong emotions for Miss Granger. Emotions that even he, perhaps, did not know about. Isn't that strange, considering how much they really hated each other before they became co-Head's of the school?
Perhaps this all started when Miss Granger got sick . . .
Of course! There we have it! Mr Malfoy is Miss Granger's cure!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next day during free period, Hermione went in to the Quiet Room to practise the charm Malfoy had asked her to do. She'd had the idea of combining two charms; one that made the confetti and one that turned the stream of things the other way around, and was trying to figure out the best and most effective way of combining them. As always with creating a new spell, this took some effort.
At one point Malfoy arrived to see her there hard at work.
'How's it going?' he asked.
'All right.' Hermione gave him a smile, before flicking her wand and saying 'confetreverto!' The room suddenly filled with this strange confetti flying upwards. Hermione grinned broadly.
'Wow!' said Malfoy, looking at it all. You amaze me Granger.'
'Oh I do, do I?'
'Yes,' replied Malfoy. 'In many many ways.'
Hermione grinned and blushed slightly.
Malfoy stood up, stood before her, and bowed, before extending his hand. 'Care to dance?' he asked in an overly posh British accent.
'With pleasure,' Hermione replied, taking his hand. 'Do you know how to waltz?'
'Why young Miss Granger, I have been doing since the mellow age of five.'
'Really? How so?'
'It was required of my society to know how.'
Hermione and Malfoy began then to dance the very graceful, moving dance. Hermione smiled up at him. 'You know your stuff, don't you?' she said.
'This is kind of thrilling,' Hermione said, smiling.
Malfoy grinned. 'That was always the idea of dancing, I think. A social experience. Perhaps a chance to show off your abilities; your strength; your ability to woo others.'
'Yeah, I bet you wooed the others all the time when you were dancing it at 6.' Hermione said sarcastically.
Malfoy smiled again. 'Or perhaps to be wooed by someone.'
'Why? Did you fall in love with a dancer when you were 6?' asked Hermione. 'Cute.'
Malfoy grinned. 'We aren't allowed to love in my society, however. Or rather, we choose not to.'
Malfoy lifted his arm so Hermione could twirl around it, and at one point he spun her around, then she spun back, him catching her and sort of leaning her back, in a graceful finale movement.
'But I've always been a rebel,' Malfoy concluded.
Hermione smiled. 'So you did fall in love with a dancing partner.'
Malfoy ran a hand along the side of Hermiones face. 'I fell in love with many.'
With that, he lifted Hermione up, so that they were both standing.
'But they never returned my love.'
'That's sad,' replied Hermione.
'Not really,' said Malfoy. 'It taught me that to love is only to be hurt, because the one you love will hardly ever return your affection.'
'That's not the nicest thing to say,' said Hermione.
'But it's true. Surely you've loved someone before, and they've sort of shrugged at you and moved on.'
Hermione shrugged, looking down at the ground and hoping her face wasn't turning red again. 'Maybe. But I think it will be worth it in the end.'
'Are you in love with anyone at the moment Granger?'
Hermione just shook her head at him then. 'That's personal, Malfoy.'
Malfoy scoffed. 'Like that's ever stopped anyone before. Maybe you should tell me who it is, Granger . . . then we'll see if he returns his affections.'
'I doubt he will,' said Hermione, slightly forlornly.
'Well there you go,' he said, shrugging. 'Tell me if it's worth it, after Valentines Day.' And with that he vanished.
Hermione sighed and flopped down on the sofa. It was really frustrating, trying to fight away this newfound love she seemed to be having for her Co- Head-of-School.
But she wasn't entirely sure any more that she wanted to stop it any more. It wasn't as if she was giving up. It was more as if she didn't want to try and block something that was becoming so real, and blocking it would just make her lifeless, loveless.
Malfoy asked if it was worth the pain. Hermione decided it was. Love was that emotion, that single emotion that led people to do the most spectacular, or the most stupid things. Love was what Hermione had felt for her mother. Her mother was gone now, and she felt terrible, aching, with grief. But she would rather that then having never known her and shared those experiences with her at all. And she knew that deep down she would get over it, and remember the good things about her mother, and laugh and be happy when she thought of her.
But, despite her decision to not block out love, she wasn't sure at all whether she would ever feel happiness when it came to Malfoy.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Malfoy was walking across the lawns of the school. It was something he did a lot, mainly because his father had always thought that one should have a clear mind before going to bed. This was a rare thing about his father Malfoy agreed with, so he would do it whenever he felt slightly tense, and something was plaguing his mind.
He was looking at his hand; the one he'd used to touch Hermione's face just a while back. She'd felt warm . . . and quite soft; like she used some sort of exfoliating lotion.
Malfoy shook his head to himself. He wasn't sure why he'd done that. He also wasn't sure why he'd told Hermione those things about his childhood, dancing the tango with ladies twice his age, and falling in love with quite a few of them, before realising they had boyfriends. That must have been why Malfoys never learn to love. It just brings pain and destruction to the world.
He had a feeling he'd done it because Hermione had been telling him so much about herself, and he was just returning the favour. Made sense, after all. He trusted Hermione to keep his secrets, and he trusted her not to laugh at him. He presumed she trusted him to do that too. In fact, he was sure of it, with the way she looked at him and spoke to him. The way her face lit up when she smiled, and her eyes, soft brown in colour, smiled at him . . .
Woah, he seemed to have lost track of himself there.
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Bit of a silly yet serious note there I'm ending it with. Man, I got glasses a few days ago, and they're so strange! Anyway, review, oh please review! I swear I will answer the reviews next time!