Forbidden Touch – Part Two
Disclaimer: As I stated before I don't own any of these characters.
A/N: Thankyou to superziggy2000 and choirchickMG, my first reviewers.
Proceed.
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Hermione woke up drowsily; she hadn't got much sleep as she had been studying for her Arithmacy test. She got up, dressed, and then went down to the common room. When she realised that there was 30 minutes to study still she went back up to her dorm and grabbed some 'supplies'.
Hermione walked back down to the common room
her arms full. She was carrying 12 books, 15 quills, 6 bottles of ink
and a stack of parchment 20cm high.
"Wow 'Mione! Why have you
got so much stuff we only have half an hour?" Harry said, jumping
up and grabbing the parchment, quills and bottles of ink.
"Hi
'Mione" said Ron seeming rather pre-occupied.
"Hi" said
Hermione almost falling head first down the stairs. "What's wrong?"
she asked after re-gaining her balance and putting her stuff on the
table.
"Nothing" Ron said, red filling up in his face. Why
won't she like me? Will she ever, I want her for me? Who does she
like, she couldn't ever like me?
Half
an hour later Hermione walked into the Great Hall, automatically she
looked longingly towards… him. She didn't know why, but he 'made
her' look at him; she wouldn't help it. Realising that he too
was looking at her, she quickly diverted her eyes. Her cheeks filled
with red, as did Draco's.
Why does she keep doing that? More
to the point, why was I looking at her? Something inside Draco
seemed like it wanted to shout the answer, but it didn't. His
thoughts dissolved as he saw Ron run in, he really didn't like that
stupid git.
"Hey!
Weasel, why don't you just give it up? She obviously doesn't like
you!" Okay Draco. That is just too strange. How would you know
who she likes? And why did you say that in such a defensive tone?
Hmm… I think I should lie down, obviously I'm not feeling too
well.
"Why don't you shut it, Malfoy? No one here cares
what you think!" Hermione said, yet her voice seemed less ferocious
then it should have. No-one but Draco seemed to notice. Ron just sat
down seeming intent on glaring his food into his stomach; he was
blushing furiously.
"Touchy, touchy, Granger. Does that mean
that you do, actually, like that Weasel?" Draco commented, a smirk
on his face. Yet, there was a certain air of pleading in his voice,
very unbecoming of a Malfoy. With that, Draco returned to eating his
food; as did Hermione after throwing Draco a final glare.
This
is going to be a long day. Fortunately, the post is due to arrive any
minute; hopefully his troubles would soon be put to rest. Just as
Draco began to get restless, the Post arrived. He looked up,
searching for the owl that carried his perfect letter. I do hope
she replies soon. Draco surprised himself with those thoughts,
but found that they were true. He believed that all his troubles
would be solved with her reply to his letter. Thus, he was impatient,
and it was noticeable.
"What's with you Draco? Annoyed that
your father hasn't sent you your care package for today." Pansy
asked in a mock-patronising tone.
"Shut it Parkinson." Draco
replied snappily. Pansy looked at him concerned. Draco added a quite
"Sorry. But just drop it." With that he stood up and exited the
Great Hall. What is wrong with you? Why are you so hung up on
this? Frustrated, he began to make his way towards the common
room. He had not made it far when he heard footsteps behind him, he
turned around, a voice in the back of his head hoping it was
Hermione, and saw Pansy.
"Look, Draco, I don't know what's
wrong, but you know you can talk to me, don't you?"
"I know.
I just don't know what's going on, okay?" Draco let out a sigh.
"Is it about your father? Has something happened?"
"No
he's quite alright; better than actually. I just don't know
what's going on in my head right now. I can't, and don't want
to, explain it." Pansy put her hand comfortingly on his shoulder.
They proceeded to the common
room.
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Ron
was still blushing. He looked up from the table, and, trying to
subtly change the subject informed his friends that the post had
arrived.
Hermione looked up, then went back to her food, but was
promptly interrupted by an owl pecking lightly at her hand. She
looked up, slightly surprised, and then began unravelling the string
by which the note was attached to the owl. She read the small
writing, which she didn't recognise, it read: 'Do not open in
front of prying eyes.' Assuming that this meant Harry and Ron, she
put the letter in her pocket.
"What was the 'Mione?" Harry
asked curious.
"Oh. Erm. Nothing, it was just a letter from
mum. She said she write me as soon as the got to France." Hermione
said, hoping that her slight pause wouldn't be noticed.
"You
didn't tell us that they were going to France. Are they having
fun?" Harry replied.
"Oh, yes, of course. Erm. I have to go
to the library; I have an Arithmacy test next week." Hermione said
airily, rushing out of the Great Hall. She had every intention of
reading the letter; however, it seemed that fate had other plans.
"Miss Granger, I wonder if you would come in here, I would like
to discuss your subject selections for next year." Professor
McGonagall had just appeared from the room adjacent to the Great
Hall.
"Hello Professor." Hermione said, slightly dejected.
"Is there something wrong with them?"
"Oh, no, of course
not. Quite the opposite in fact. But please, come in here." She
said, motioning to the classroom from which she had just
appeared.
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Draco
was in his room, pacing. Why hasn't she replied? No-one ignores
Draco Malfoy. Then he stopped, remembering that he had not signed
his name at the bottom of the letter. Well, that is no excuse.
Could someone have read it? It was probably that stupid git Weasley.
"When I get my hands on him…" Draco said menacingly.
"When
you get your hands on whom, Draco?" Pansy had just entered the
room.
"No-one." Draco said quickly."
Pansy, unconvinced,
repeated her question. "Who, Draco? Tell me."
Draco, knowing
the Pansy would not cease her attack until she had all the
information, let out a sigh. "If you must know, Weasley."
"Why,
what has the little Weasel done now?" Pansy said disgusted by the
thought of him.
"I think he may have read a letter that I sent.
That's all."
"And how would he get a letter on one of your
letters, Draco?" Pansy asked simply.
"Because I sent a letter
to his Mudblood friend, okay." Draco said, looking away. There was
a pause, and Draco felt he needed to explain, "I had to." This
was all he could think of in his defence.
"Okay Draco. And pray
tell why was this necessary?" Pansy said after fully processing
what Draco had done.
"It's just… she keeps looking at me. I
needed to know why." Draco said, realising immediately how foolish
he had been.
Pansy looked up him, thinking. "I understand Draco,
it must be infuriating."
"That's just it Pansy. It isn't.
I should find her gaze irritating, but I don't. Whenever she stares
at me, I see… I see something in her eyes. It lures me. It plays
with my head." Draco said, feeling as though a 200 pound weight had
just been lifted from his chest. He was relieved, he was finally
beginning to out what he felt in words.
Pansy just looked at him;
stunned by this revelation. "I know Pansy. This is why I had to
write her. I had to find out what the look was for. What it meant. If
I don't I will be continually thinking of it, pondering what it
means. Don't worry, as soon as she replies, I will know, and all
will be well." Draco said, comforting Pansy somewhat.
"That's
not what I'm worried about. Do you know what will happen if
Weaselby tells people that you, Draco Malfoy, have been writing to a
Mudblood?" Pansy said, obviously worried.
"Come on Pansy. I'm
not that careless. I didn't sign it." Draco said, a small smile
playing on his face.
"Then how will she reply. How will your
questions be answered?" Pansy said, quite confused.
"She will
know. I know the looks mean something. If they don't, she won't
reply. If she doesn't reply, I'll know they mean nothing. It is
the perfect plan." Draco said, a smirk
forming.
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A/N: Hope you enjoyed this little addition. Tell me what you think about the progression (I hope that's a word, otherwise I'll look quite the fool.) so far. I will love you forever if you review.