"You'd be surprised," Draco whispered, drawing closer to her, "At how fast I intend to wash my hands when I get back to my own common room." He dropped Hermione's hands, and they fell limply to her sides. He turned away from her, his face hidden.
"I'm not surprised at all," Hermione answered, he voice normal and even. Somehow, she thought, I feel as though I've been let down. He was actually becoming enjoyable.
"Come on," said Draco, "I'm still taking you back to your common room, remember?"
"Right..." answered Hermione, looking for some trace of the soft look she'd seen in Draco's eyes. He looked away from her, his head facing determinedly in front of him.
They wandered silently for several minutes before Hermione began to realize where they were. She said nothing, though. If Draco knew she was familiar with her surroundings, he'd leave her to walk the remaining few corridors alone.
"Well, Bob's your uncle," said Draco, triumphantly flourishing his arm toward the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Hope you can find your way up to your dorm and into your nightdress without me."
"I think I'll manage."
"Well... goodnight, then," Draco said, walking back down the corridor.
"Draco, wait... Erm... back there, when you said that I'd be surprised... what would you have done had I ... oh, I don't know, done something odd?"
"Define 'something odd'."
"Well, let's say that, perhaps, I kissed you."
"I think I would have vomited," Draco said, his smirk not reaching his grey eyes.
"Ah, well then. I'd thought it would have been rather funny."
"To you, probably," Draco answered, turning away. "Anyway --"
But whatever Draco intended to say, he didn't get the chance. Hermione reached out for his hand, and he stopped in mid-step.
"Draco... I, well--"
"Shut up, alright," Draco said shortly, pulling her close to him. "Just shut up for once."
Hermione opened her mouth soundlessly, then closed it. She brought her hand to Draco's cheek, resting it lightly on his pale skin. Suddenly, and without much warning, Draco slid his arms around her waist, and kissed her.
"Oh!" gasped Hermione, shocked. She noticed, fleetingly, that the white-blonde stubble on his chin tickled her face.
"Well, then... goodnight." said Draco, quite normally, and walked away.
"Goodnight." Hermione replied quietly, long after he'd gone.
Ron had been waiting hours for Hermione to return, tense and with his wand ready. He sat rigidly in his favourite armchair by the fire, craning his head every few minutes. He was raptly expecting the portrait hole to burst open, and Hermione to climb in, flaming about how awful Draco was. He intended to give her a stern talking to as soon as she entered, and he thought to himself how he'd brandish his wand, pointing it at her menacingly as he lectured. Oh Lord, I've turned into a cross between mum and Hermione, Ron thought.
Ron knew that if Harry was still his best friend, they would have gone to search for Hermione hours ago. But, without the Invisibility Cloak, Ron was wary to wander in the dark castle, Prefect or not. He'd been in too much trouble with Filch already to chance another midnight encounter.
This is absurd, Ron thought. Just march up to your dormitory, shake Harry, and ask to borrow his Cloak, and the Marauder's Map. And appologize, maybe even invite him along. It is his Cloak... he added, as an after-thought.
Harry had pulled the curtains of his four-poster just after Dean had crawled into bed, but long after Neville's snores filled the air, Harry was still starkly awake. He sat up in bed, thinking about Hermione. Where had she gone, and why wasn't she back? Three hours later, he was sick with worry. What if something had happened to her, and she was still angry with him? Harry hurriedly gathered his Invisibility Cloak, his slippers, and the Marauder's Map from his trunk, and slipped out of the dormitory. Just as he closed the door, he ran directly into Ron.
"What are you doing?" snapped Ron.
"I'm looking for Hermione. She's been gone for hours."
"I know that. I'm the one she's still talking to," Ron said. Harry pushed him aside and continued down the stairs. "Harry, wait. I'm sorry. Look, I came up to the dorm to ask if you wanted to come with me, to find Hermione. I'm worried about her, too. I'm willing to put aside what happened, and team up one more time."
"I'm sorry about this whole misunderstanding, and we'll have a good talking about it when we get back. There's no time right now," Harry said urgently. "I can't believe we waited this long."
"I know. Never would have, if I'd been in my right mind. I've been so mad lately."
"Me too. Been mad at myself that this ever happened," Harry replied, stepping toward the portrait hole. Just as he reached his hand to the knob, it turned, and he and Ron stumbled back, tripped by the Cloak.
"Hermione!" They both gasped.
"We've been really worried about you," Harry continued.
"Well..." said Hermione, "I'm an adult, really. I can take care of myself."
"I'm not surprised at all," Hermione answered, he voice normal and even. Somehow, she thought, I feel as though I've been let down. He was actually becoming enjoyable.
"Come on," said Draco, "I'm still taking you back to your common room, remember?"
"Right..." answered Hermione, looking for some trace of the soft look she'd seen in Draco's eyes. He looked away from her, his head facing determinedly in front of him.
They wandered silently for several minutes before Hermione began to realize where they were. She said nothing, though. If Draco knew she was familiar with her surroundings, he'd leave her to walk the remaining few corridors alone.
"Well, Bob's your uncle," said Draco, triumphantly flourishing his arm toward the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Hope you can find your way up to your dorm and into your nightdress without me."
"I think I'll manage."
"Well... goodnight, then," Draco said, walking back down the corridor.
"Draco, wait... Erm... back there, when you said that I'd be surprised... what would you have done had I ... oh, I don't know, done something odd?"
"Define 'something odd'."
"Well, let's say that, perhaps, I kissed you."
"I think I would have vomited," Draco said, his smirk not reaching his grey eyes.
"Ah, well then. I'd thought it would have been rather funny."
"To you, probably," Draco answered, turning away. "Anyway --"
But whatever Draco intended to say, he didn't get the chance. Hermione reached out for his hand, and he stopped in mid-step.
"Draco... I, well--"
"Shut up, alright," Draco said shortly, pulling her close to him. "Just shut up for once."
Hermione opened her mouth soundlessly, then closed it. She brought her hand to Draco's cheek, resting it lightly on his pale skin. Suddenly, and without much warning, Draco slid his arms around her waist, and kissed her.
"Oh!" gasped Hermione, shocked. She noticed, fleetingly, that the white-blonde stubble on his chin tickled her face.
"Well, then... goodnight." said Draco, quite normally, and walked away.
"Goodnight." Hermione replied quietly, long after he'd gone.
Ron had been waiting hours for Hermione to return, tense and with his wand ready. He sat rigidly in his favourite armchair by the fire, craning his head every few minutes. He was raptly expecting the portrait hole to burst open, and Hermione to climb in, flaming about how awful Draco was. He intended to give her a stern talking to as soon as she entered, and he thought to himself how he'd brandish his wand, pointing it at her menacingly as he lectured. Oh Lord, I've turned into a cross between mum and Hermione, Ron thought.
Ron knew that if Harry was still his best friend, they would have gone to search for Hermione hours ago. But, without the Invisibility Cloak, Ron was wary to wander in the dark castle, Prefect or not. He'd been in too much trouble with Filch already to chance another midnight encounter.
This is absurd, Ron thought. Just march up to your dormitory, shake Harry, and ask to borrow his Cloak, and the Marauder's Map. And appologize, maybe even invite him along. It is his Cloak... he added, as an after-thought.
Harry had pulled the curtains of his four-poster just after Dean had crawled into bed, but long after Neville's snores filled the air, Harry was still starkly awake. He sat up in bed, thinking about Hermione. Where had she gone, and why wasn't she back? Three hours later, he was sick with worry. What if something had happened to her, and she was still angry with him? Harry hurriedly gathered his Invisibility Cloak, his slippers, and the Marauder's Map from his trunk, and slipped out of the dormitory. Just as he closed the door, he ran directly into Ron.
"What are you doing?" snapped Ron.
"I'm looking for Hermione. She's been gone for hours."
"I know that. I'm the one she's still talking to," Ron said. Harry pushed him aside and continued down the stairs. "Harry, wait. I'm sorry. Look, I came up to the dorm to ask if you wanted to come with me, to find Hermione. I'm worried about her, too. I'm willing to put aside what happened, and team up one more time."
"I'm sorry about this whole misunderstanding, and we'll have a good talking about it when we get back. There's no time right now," Harry said urgently. "I can't believe we waited this long."
"I know. Never would have, if I'd been in my right mind. I've been so mad lately."
"Me too. Been mad at myself that this ever happened," Harry replied, stepping toward the portrait hole. Just as he reached his hand to the knob, it turned, and he and Ron stumbled back, tripped by the Cloak.
"Hermione!" They both gasped.
"We've been really worried about you," Harry continued.
"Well..." said Hermione, "I'm an adult, really. I can take care of myself."