Chapter Sixteen: Feelings Let Loose
Author's note: Hey, everyone. I apologize about the extremely long delay in updating this fic. I hope I wasn't given up on, for I am going to continue this story. A lot has been going on in my life, and that is my only excuse. Now, I solemnly swear that I will not ever post a fic without finishing it completely before the first post. I really don't like this chapter because it was forced out, but I always try to improve when I type it up. Til my next chapter!
Hermione hugged Harry and Ron in a ferocious happiness. This would be the first time in two years that she didn't accompany them to the Burrow, were they always spent their holidays. While they ate Mrs. Weasley's wonderful homemade meals and enjoying lazy days indoors, she and Draco would be spending their time at Hogwarts.
Though she didn't know why they were to stay, Dumbledore had just asked if they would remain. She loved the short tradition her friends held, but she could never bring herself to go against the old man's wishes. And, she wouldn't dream of letting Draco go back to the Manor with his vile excuse of a father.
"Well, I hope you enjoy your holidays, Mione…" Ron said; his hand rubbed the back of his neck in nerves. Hermione knew he still held a slight grudge against Draco, but she just let it lay because it was easier to.
Hermione flashed them both a brilliant smile. "I hope you two do as well. And, please, don't get into any trouble. Your mother has a hard enough time as it is trying to feed all of you at once, she can't do everything at once."
"Yes, Hermione," the boys said in union, both held a teasing air. One last group hug was shared before they both hopped in the nearest black carriage.
She watched the line of carriages wind their way down to the Hogsmeade train station. There, most of the Hogwarts students would be heading home or to relatives' or the homes of their friends.
On her lonely trip back up to the school, she started to feel less alone. Hermione could feel his eyes on her. Some comfort was given through his watchfulness. She looked up knowingly at a certain tower of Hogwarts, a tower in which she lived. In a large window, she could just make out the form of someone with silvery hair.
A genuine smile flitted across her face, thinking of him. Draco Malfoy, a mystery she'd probably never tire of trying to solve. She enjoyed the challenge that was trying to decipher his emotions.
She mulled in her thought of him all the way up to the commons. The few people that passed her in the halls just stared at the Head Girl. She didn't even notice for she was happily thinking of her friends, eyes glazed over in a daydream.
As soon as she reached the portrait, she said the password and entered into a gradually dimming room. Her eyes landed on the boy who occupied he thought and her heart leapt up into her throat.
AN: I wrote this to take up space to show that I have made a change in view point!
Draco watched Hermione through the common room's window. He watched almost enviously the easy air that flowed between the friends below. Though he knew that they all felt like siblings, he couldn't help but feel more for the chestnut haired girl who was hugging them again.
He watched as she turned away from the end of the carriage line, to head back to the castle. Somehow, she knew he was watching her. He must have been burning holes into her the way he watched every movement she made. When she looked up at him, he couldn't control the feeling of elation that jolted through him.
Draco grinned broadly when he saw the soft smile form on her face. He knew he'd fallen for her; he'd fallen hard. But he tried fighting the tumble with nearly everything he had because he could not bear the thought of his father even getting close to knowing of the best thing in his life.
Almost as an ill omen, the Malfoy family's black eagle owl, Delano, came swooping into his view. Seeing the graceful, dark bird, he was reminded of his father. Dread hit the pit of his stomach like a lead weight. He knew what this was about; he had known that it was coming closer for months.
Delano flapped past him and landed on the arm of the couch. His talons raked roughly against the soft leather.
Draco went to untie the sealed envelope from the birds black feet. Nearly as soon as he was free, the bird took off past Draco's face. Obviously, his father wasn't planning on any discrepancy, so didn't believe a letter should be sent in return. Lucius's cold and immaculate handwriting curved across the front of the envelope, the Malfoy crest was stamped on the crease.
He flopped back on the couch with a heavy sigh. He could feel the two parts of him-one, which always wanted to please his father and the other that had its own firmly set ideals, pulling him into different directions. It began to get harder to fight the more he thought, for Lucius was a very persuasive man. He wasn't one who would just let go his wants.
Breaking the seal was the last thing that he wanted to do. It would just prove that his life was currently running on the edge of hopelessness. He slowly ran his finger under the sealed edge, opening the letter. Unfolding it seemed to be another heavy step into despair.
The letter was a request for him to come home over the weekend. A weekend in which his dreams would come true, so said his father's pristine scrawl. Draco snorted in disapproval. He never wanted to see this weekend come up.
He clutched his hands in his hair and leaned his weight on his knees. The burden of all his thoughts was beginning to get to him. What ifs rushed through his mind like an obstacle course.
Then he heard the portrait open, Hermione was with him. Bleakness settled over him again as he thought that not even the cleverest witch Hogwarts was ever to see could not help him. He could sense her presence like a guiding light in the dark, but he could not tell where she was in the room. Draco wasn't aware of her approach until the couch depress beside him.
A small hand settled on his shoulder, it gave him contact that he so needed. "Draco, are you alright?" she questioned softly.
With a deep sigh, he said, "Yes, everything is just fine…"
"Draco," she interjected, "Don't put up your walls, please. I want to help."
He snorted in rejection of her preposterous idea. "Oh, yeah? How, pray tell? Are you going to smite down Voldemort with love? Bend my father with a tirade on equality? There is nothing you can do, Granger."
Hermione tensed up, he could feel it through her hand. 'Thanks…" floated through their connection from her to him.
He felt guilt descend on him like a blanket. Now, he'd done it; he'd gone and hurt her feelings with malicious words of pessimism.
Draco almost thought she'd get up and leave; but no, this was Hermione Granger. She was the girl who knew his situation and still wanted to help. The loyal friend who stuck by everyone, even those that endangered her life. She didn't deserve harsh words but admiration.
"I'm sorry, Mione," he drawled out suddenly very tired, "That was very wrong of me."
"No, that's alright," she consoled warmly. She gently picked up his head, so he'd face her. Her hands remained soft on either said of his face. "Do what you want to do, Draco. Do what you think is best."
"I don't know what to do, to do so." He sighed, enjoying the coolness of her hands.
"Well, let's say you leave it til morning?" she coaxed, "You're a bit overloaded right now."
His eyes drooped lazily and his face was the most relaxed she had ever seen it.
'That sounds good,' she heard his inner voice approve. She couldn't help but smile. He was so childlike and gentle at this moment. She felt motherly instincts she didn't think she'd ever have with him kicking in. She let him lay back on the couch. Her hand brushed gently through his tousled hair; she pressed a kiss to his forehead.
She leaned back quickly; afraid of the line she just about crossed. The line that kept her convinced that she felt for him just like she felt for Harry and Ron. But she knew that that line was thinning at every second she spent with him. It was time for her to go.
But someone must have disagreed, for when she turned to leave a large, warm hand caught her wrist. She was spun around by a gentle tug on her arm, causing her to fall flush against Draco's body. Her nose was centimeters from his, their warm breaths mingled.
The dreariness she saw in him before seemed to be long gone. It was replaced by a smoldering look. Their eyes locked in a soul-searching gaze, silver met gold. But this time, the gold was molten as well.
Attentively Draco leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. Again, he watched her eyes. And as he realized that she wasn't backing away, he made his decision.
He kissed her once more. His lips encased her bottom lip, massaging it tenderly. Hermione let out a soft sigh, as she relaxed into him. She became a part of the kiss with an easy acceptance that shocked him. It was she who deepened the kiss; she who parted her lips and made tantalizing tongue contact. As it grew, Draco wrapped his arms tightly around her waist; not a thought of air could fit between the two.
He broke away from the kiss only to get to her neck. A quiet moan escaped Hermione's parted lips as he gently lipped her collarbone. Her warm breath flirted shamelessly with his ear, sending shivers down his spine. His desire was growing more intense. He knew it was time to pull back.
He slowly sat up, changing Hermione's position as he went. He looked her sheepishly in the eyes.
"Uh…Hermione, I think I love you…" he said. He felt the heat rising to his cheeks that had to have been the lamest thing he could have said. A mental slap was imminent.
But she smiled the loveliest smile he had ever seen, at his words. "And I believe those feelings are mutual," she replied softly.
He was currently the happiest man alive! All thoughts of the evil men in his life were swept away for the night.
As he got up to go to bed, he grasped her hand in his and led her to his room. Tonight they would sleep in his bed.
He tucked her in beside him with a happy grin. "Goodnight, Mione," he said as he kissed the tip of her nose. But he already knew that she had fallen asleep. Her soft breathing spoke of a peaceful, dreamless night. It was his lullaby.