Draco steered Blaise into the Great Hall and over to the Slytherin table, followed closely by Fiona. Draco turned his head slightly to look at Fiona and asked:
"What? Are you afraid we won't make it here safely if you don't follow?"
"No," snapped Fiona.
"Then go away," Draco said simply. Even with that awful smirk on his face, thought Fiona, he still looks awfully beautiful. As she looked around the Great Hall, she realized that many other girls must have thought the same thing. Draco was stunning in his own harsh way, but that didn't make her like him anymore. If anything, it made her draw farther from him. If only Blaise saw him in the same light...
"I'll see you later, Blaise," Fiona said, smiling her best false smile. "Afternoon, Draco," she added, with a curt tilt of her head.
Blaise and Draco sat down and began to talk of the days when they'd sneak from Blaise's manor and down to the river to splash mud at each other. As the Great Hall began to fill with more students, though, Draco's mind began to wander.
"Will you excuse me?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer, he strode across the Hall.
"Of course," answered Blaise as he walked away, and dropped her eyes to her hands. She'd forgotten to change her bandages again...
Draco walk intently toward the door to the Hall, his eyes fixed on the stairway, and the corridor next to it. A gaggle of cheerful Gryffindors, and a sullen Harry, thundered down the stairs and Draco wondered if they knew what the word elegant meant.
Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw someone who certainly knew what elegance meant. Hermione came lightly down the stairs, her hand hovering just over the banister, and her eyes concentrating on the crowd in front of her. She did not thunder, nor did she run, but her pace was quick and determined. Her brows knit with frustration from the moment she saw Draco. She walked straight up to him, and the cloud of Gryffindors surrounding her gave looks of shock, but little else. They soon moved along into the Hall.
Hermione stood rather defiantly, he hands pressed against her hips. The corridor was now empty, and the sound of her foot tapping on the floor rang against the walls.
"I can't believe you would do that to your own friend... I cannot believe-- "
Wind. Pressure. Motion. In a blur, Hermione realized she was now pinned tightly against the corridor wall. There were hands on her shoulders and a face close to hers, a face she recognized, but didn't want to.
"I'm furious with you!" she snapped angrily. "Not that I would have expected you to notice. You don't seem to care much about how other people feel."
"Listen, wench. You don't know anything about me," spat Draco. "I knew you were a haughtily little Gyffindor from the moment I saw you on the train our first year, and I never doubted it once since. You're all alike, you are. You only think of yourselves, you think you're so righteous." He paused a moment, and the pressure of his hands on Hermione's shoulders lessened.
"You aren't," he finished a few seconds later. "You aren't righteous or innocent or, dare I say it, Godly. You aren't any better than I am, and that's what you're afraid of."
He ran his hands lightly down Hermione's shoulders, arms, stopping with his hands resting lightly on hers. He drew them up to his lips, kissed them gently, then dropped them. Hermione let her hands fall, looking intently at Draco. She concentrated long and hard on his face, wondering why she couldn't look away. She reached over carefully, almost frightened, and took both his hands in hers. Quickly, she pulled toward him. She brushed a light kiss across his chin, for that was all she could easily reach, then stretched up to his lips.
Draco was shocked at how chaste she seemed, how innocent she really was. He regretted his words at the first touch of her hands against his. He opened his mouth to speak, but her lips were on his, drawing the words from his mouth and swallowing them whole. Suddenly all the things he'd wanted to say were gone, and he didn't mind. He was angry, but he was so filled with other emotions that anger didn't seem to matter at all.
It was Hermione who broke away, and turned from him. Draco was confused. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. They certainly weren't supposed to hate each other.
"That's what I'm afraid of..." Hermione said finally, and left.
"What? Are you afraid we won't make it here safely if you don't follow?"
"No," snapped Fiona.
"Then go away," Draco said simply. Even with that awful smirk on his face, thought Fiona, he still looks awfully beautiful. As she looked around the Great Hall, she realized that many other girls must have thought the same thing. Draco was stunning in his own harsh way, but that didn't make her like him anymore. If anything, it made her draw farther from him. If only Blaise saw him in the same light...
"I'll see you later, Blaise," Fiona said, smiling her best false smile. "Afternoon, Draco," she added, with a curt tilt of her head.
Blaise and Draco sat down and began to talk of the days when they'd sneak from Blaise's manor and down to the river to splash mud at each other. As the Great Hall began to fill with more students, though, Draco's mind began to wander.
"Will you excuse me?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer, he strode across the Hall.
"Of course," answered Blaise as he walked away, and dropped her eyes to her hands. She'd forgotten to change her bandages again...
Draco walk intently toward the door to the Hall, his eyes fixed on the stairway, and the corridor next to it. A gaggle of cheerful Gryffindors, and a sullen Harry, thundered down the stairs and Draco wondered if they knew what the word elegant meant.
Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw someone who certainly knew what elegance meant. Hermione came lightly down the stairs, her hand hovering just over the banister, and her eyes concentrating on the crowd in front of her. She did not thunder, nor did she run, but her pace was quick and determined. Her brows knit with frustration from the moment she saw Draco. She walked straight up to him, and the cloud of Gryffindors surrounding her gave looks of shock, but little else. They soon moved along into the Hall.
Hermione stood rather defiantly, he hands pressed against her hips. The corridor was now empty, and the sound of her foot tapping on the floor rang against the walls.
"I can't believe you would do that to your own friend... I cannot believe-- "
Wind. Pressure. Motion. In a blur, Hermione realized she was now pinned tightly against the corridor wall. There were hands on her shoulders and a face close to hers, a face she recognized, but didn't want to.
"I'm furious with you!" she snapped angrily. "Not that I would have expected you to notice. You don't seem to care much about how other people feel."
"Listen, wench. You don't know anything about me," spat Draco. "I knew you were a haughtily little Gyffindor from the moment I saw you on the train our first year, and I never doubted it once since. You're all alike, you are. You only think of yourselves, you think you're so righteous." He paused a moment, and the pressure of his hands on Hermione's shoulders lessened.
"You aren't," he finished a few seconds later. "You aren't righteous or innocent or, dare I say it, Godly. You aren't any better than I am, and that's what you're afraid of."
He ran his hands lightly down Hermione's shoulders, arms, stopping with his hands resting lightly on hers. He drew them up to his lips, kissed them gently, then dropped them. Hermione let her hands fall, looking intently at Draco. She concentrated long and hard on his face, wondering why she couldn't look away. She reached over carefully, almost frightened, and took both his hands in hers. Quickly, she pulled toward him. She brushed a light kiss across his chin, for that was all she could easily reach, then stretched up to his lips.
Draco was shocked at how chaste she seemed, how innocent she really was. He regretted his words at the first touch of her hands against his. He opened his mouth to speak, but her lips were on his, drawing the words from his mouth and swallowing them whole. Suddenly all the things he'd wanted to say were gone, and he didn't mind. He was angry, but he was so filled with other emotions that anger didn't seem to matter at all.
It was Hermione who broke away, and turned from him. Draco was confused. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. They certainly weren't supposed to hate each other.
"That's what I'm afraid of..." Hermione said finally, and left.