Author's Note: The first installment of the kiss. Enjoy!
The
Passion of Hate and Love
Chapter 11: Their First Kiss -
Motives
By Callisto Callispi
Draco passed his afternoon in a stupor. He managed to get through his classes despite his straining fatigue. He was irritable for the whole day, and his irritation escalated into anger as soon as his professor made the announcement to assign a research project for his NEWT class in Identification of Hexes and Curses.
"Mr. Malfoy and...Mr. Zabini. Your project will cover the symptoms and the effects of the so-called 'Gregarious Curses' and the ten dark wizards who have made use of them."
Draco looked up. "Zabini?"
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, Blaise Zabini. Have you misheard me?"
"No."
"Then I don't see the problem. Narsus and Xavier, you will cover..."
Draco scowled and shot a glare towards Blaise. The smug bastard grinned slightly, staring back at him. As soon as class ended, Draco gathered his books, clenching his teeth so as not to yell at someone. Merlin, Blaise Zabini? Could fate conjure more irony?
"Malfoy, hold your knickers for a minute there."
Draco ignored him and continued walking. Blaise, however, caught up with him and demanded in a puff of breath, "What is wrong with you today? You didn't talk in class, you scowled at me for the whole period, then you rush out like this."
"What the hell do you want, Zabini?"
"To discuss the mechanics of our project, that's what."
Draco stopped abruptly. He shouldn't display his rage in front of Blaise. What was he mad for, anyway? Because of that muggle-born? Because he saw him whisper in her ear?
"I can't," Draco said in a much calmer voice. "I have detention."
Blaise seemed puzzled by this revelation at first, but then, he smirked. "Oh, that quidditch accident, eh? With the Head Girl."
Draco made his way to the Slytherin dungeons with Blaise trailing behind him. The common room was empty. Blaise muttered a small spell to light the fire and collapsed onto the couch. He stared up at Draco, who tossed his books onto a nearby table.
"You must be the luckiest bastard in this whole school," Blaise murmured.
"What do you mean?" Draco asked, combing his ruffled hair back with his hands, staring into the mirror.
"Mate, are you blind? You get to spend the whole night with the Head Girl."
Draco's hands froze in his hair. Then he recovered his composure and asked coldly, "What prize is there in that?"
"She's a pretty girl, you know. Cute, innocent, you know, one of those types. And she has brains. I would have shagged her senseless already if I had been that close to her for such a quantity of time," Blaise said with a smirk.
The rage that Draco had painfully suppressed within him began to bubble. "You are a disgusting fuck, you know that?"
"Oh, I don't know," Blaise answered smoothly, getting up. "I truthfully wouldn't mind her body next to mine after a good shag. Who cares if she is muggle-born. She's still a woman, isn't she, and a looker. Besides, think of it this way: she's most likely a virgin, unlike a majority of the other girls in this school. A whole new domain to conquer, wouldn't you say?"
Draco almost punched him. Something that he had said about Hermione... The rage began to bubble up to his throat. "Keep your hands off her," he snarled before he could have a chance to stop himself.
Blaise raised an amused eyebrow at that. "Do I hear a note of envy? You want her as well, don't you. Well, I can't blame you, except that she is a mudblood, after all. Probably a bit low for your tastes, right?"
Draco barked out a harsh laugh. "Want her? She repulses me! The mudblood isn't fit for me, just as you said. And as a fellow death eater, I though that you would have higher standards."
Blaise smiled. "I'm am not a death eater yet. I haven't taken the formal oath, and I don't think I will until I get her." Blaise spun around and dramatically collapsed back onto the couch. He combed his dark hair back with an elegant gesture of his hand and closed his eyes. "Merlin, you do not know how much I want her."
"She will never want you."
Blaise opened his eyes and stared up at Draco, his dark eyes losing the glimmer of humor in them. The smile remained, yet it seemed so much frostier. "And why wouldn't she want me? I'm everything that she wants. Emotional, caring, warm, sympathetic... Qualities that you totally lack, I'm afraid."
"Well, we shall see, won't we Zabini? Tell me as soon as you take her," Draco said, whipping around and walking out the door. "That is, if you ever do." Then he slammed the door, leaving a smirking Blaise in the common room.
"Cocky bastard," Blaise muttered incredulously under his breath. "He thinks that he can control which woman I can have. Such arrogance is amazing, really." But Blaise, despite his smile, was very, very angry. His fists shook, and Blaise just barely forced himself to sit still on that couch and not punch something. Blaise would enjoy knocking that overly proud Slytherin down a peg or two. Especially if it involved Hermione Granger.
In reality, getting along with Hermione was not at all bad. Memories of their rendezvous at the library thickened in his mind. She looked charming, actually, sitting there with a pen in hand and her eyes trained upon the paper. He especially liked the way she bit her lip when a question stumped her.
He almost kissed those same lips in the library today. She spoke about some metaphysics nonsense. Her skin glowed like gold against the beams of sunlight that afternoon. Her hair glimmered, and he noticed the first button of her Oxford blouse undone. She smiled at him radiantly and laughed at something that he had said (he did not remember). Blaise wanted then to touch her flesh, and to feel her warmth and smoothness. Her lips intoxicated his view, however. Pink, soft, and full. He could hardly restrain his temptation. How was she not aware of her sexuality?
Blaise stood up and yawned. Yes, she was pretty at certain moments. But she was very desirable today. He did not know why, but thoughts of her filled his mind. Yet the infinitely more appealing thought was the face of Draco Malfoy in his defeat.
Blaise grinned darkly, and he could not resist saying, "Watch your back Malfoy."
-x-x-
Filch had left a note for them at his door.
Stack the books in the library by hand. The books are all magic-proof with a counter-spell. Don't even attempt to enchant them unless you want them to blow up and awaken the whole school.
A. Filch
Hermione wasn't there. He made his way down to the library, struggling to think of what he would say to her. From what he could gather, after their earlier spat in the corridors, Hermione found refuge in Blaise, and the stupid bastard had taken on the responsibility to console her. It did not help that Blaise had inferred that Hermione was very close to being taken by him. Draco could not let that happen.
He opened the library doors, and Hermione's small formed struggling to pick up a stack of books greeted him. She struggled under the weight, and quickly, automatically, he helped her pick them up and put them down near one of the book stacks.
She stared up at him in silence for a few seconds, then looked away. "Thank you," she said in a soft voice.
Draco frowned slightly. Obviously, she was still hurt by the episode earlier on in the day. He arrived at a crossroads. What should he say? Should he apologize?
"Just get the books," he found himself muttering and turned around.
X
Of course, she couldn't expect anything more out of him. Was she truly expecting an apology?
My God, Hermione, how long have you known this cocky jerk? For a very long time. You should know that he would never apologize to anyone, much less me.
Hermione glowered at his back and whipped around. Blaise was right about him. About everything.
"He's the coldest bastard I know," he replied when she inquired about Draco. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that he wasn't human. He's too cold, without a shred of emotion. When he does something, it's most-likely motivated by self-gain."
Hermione continued to drudge in the library, picking up books, checking their numbers, and resettling them in their right places. She was glad that the library was such a big place. She and Draco could work together without having to face each other.
But no matter how hard she tried to keep her mind a blank, she wished that Draco would say something to her about this afternoon. After all, anyone would have at least apologized. In his case, she had expected some sort of a short burst of comforting words. Not exactly an apology but...something. Lost in her thoughts, she accidentally dropped the book that she held and almost threw the others she held in her arms down in frustration.
Just how could he call her worthless? Just how could he get her so depressed? How could she allow him to exploit every one of her weaknesses so easily? She was Hermione Granger, and Hermione Granger prided herself on her ability to withstand all criticism, no matter how hurtful, and to emerge stronger afterward. She failed in the very thing that she prided herself in. Still, her mind turned what Draco said to her back and forth, wondering how he could say such things. She did not feel any stronger, mentally nor emotionally. She had never been so upset by anyone's words before, especially his.
"You're quiet tonight," she heard him say from across the room.
Hermione closed her eyes. His voice struck her unexpectedly like a blow to her gut. "I know."
She bent down to pick up her books. She stopped, frozen in her place, when she felt his warm hand gripping her shoulder. "Don't touch me like that," she whispered.
Draco did not immediately remove his hand, but remove it he did. She carried the books to the shelves with the appropriate call numbers and stacked them accordingly. He spoke to her when she had finished.
"Are you upset with me?"
Hermione turned to face him, feeling her heart thump twice as hard. Was it his eyes that attracted her to him like this? What magnetic forced pulled her to him? He stared down at her, expressionless, but Hermione knew by now that when he was as expressionless as he was now, he had to be thinking deeply of something.
"Yes, I am upset with you," she managed to get out.
"Why?"
She cast her gaze downwards. Thinking of the episode earlier hurt her still, yet it wasn't the reason that she refused to face him. It was because she did not want to stare into his eyes... She was afraid of what she might reveal.
"Why are you upset with me, Granger?"
His voice grew louder, much louder. When she didn't answer him, he grabbed her chin and harshly tilted her head upwards so she was once again in direct eye contact with him. Hermione almost gasped. His light gray eyes were dark with...was it anger? Passion?
"Damn it, Granger, answer me!" he yelled.
Hermione wrenched herself away from his grasp. He seemed surprised, also, by his outburst. He stared wide-eyed at her, his breaths rapid, as were hers. He stared at her, his hands nearly trembling.
"Malfoy, you're frightening me," she said finally, watching the shadows play on the smooth skin of his stoic face. "You upset me for many reasons, Malfoy, but you're frightening me right now."
Again, Draco moved towards her, and this time, he grabbed both of her shoulders and held her against the wall. Hermione gasped and tried to move away, protesting without a voice, insisting that he let her go. Draco, however, kept her pinned against his chest easily. His eyes burned into hers, his legs pressing against hers to limit movement. Hermione breathed in sharply, feeling a slight stirring in the depths of her stomach that made her a bit weak in the knees.
"Why do I frighten you?" he asked, his voice raspy. His breath was hot against her cheek. Hermione closed her eyes and shivered, her heart thumping. She gasped as he moved in closer and asked her that same question, his hot lips brushing against the skin of her neck. Hermione tried to move away again but cried out as Draco gripped her wrists harder.
"Malfoy," she cried out softly. "Please, let me go. You're hurting me..."
Draco didn't seem to hear her at first. But his body trembled, and mercifully, his grip loosened. Hermione breathed out and opened her eyes to face him and gasped at the sight of him. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. Hermione's eyes widened, watching his cheeks flush. His hands got hotter, as if they cooked on a stove. He was in pain -- she could tell by the deep scowl lines between his eyebrows and circling his mouth. He held her so tightly out of pain, not anger. His hot breath grazed her cheek as he placed his flaming, moist face next to hers on the wall. His body crushed her underneath him.
"Malfoy..." she gasped. "My God, what is wrong with you? Are you ill?"
"Granger... You're so cool," he mumbled, digging his face into her blouse.
She felt him shake, and, spontaneously, Hermione wrapped her arms around his body to comfort him. "Why are you trembling?" she whispered. "Are you in pain?"
"Great pain," he whispered in her hair, pushing her more harshly against the wall. This time, Hermione did not push him away. "God, it hurts..."
Without warning, she felt his arms wrap around her body. It was as if someone caged her to the wall. So unexpected were his movements. His arms, so hard with tense muscles, trapped her body within them. Hermione took in a sharp breath. Draco Malfoy, hater of all muggle-borns, especially her, a Gryffindor muggle-born, was embracing her. Actually embracing her! Surely he had to be delirious! Why else would he do such a thing?
They stood there in an embrace for a few minutes. Despite this uncomfortable, foreign position, Hermione felt her hands hesitantly massage the muscles of his back, slowly, soothing, gingerly. His breathing, raspy and harsh against her ear, deafened her to everything else except him. For a moment, the young man trapping her against him wasn't Draco Malfoy...but someone whom she felt something like care for.
With increasing ease, Hermione rubbed his back to comfort him, to soothe him. She did not know what pain he suffered from, but it had to be great for him to be in such a position. Her hands gently rubbed against his shoulder blades, first the right one, then the left. As soon as her hand ran over the left shoulder blade, Draco breathed in sharply and arched his back slightly.
"I'm sorry," she said immediately, thinking that she had accidentally touched on a sore spot of his wound from the previous night.
For a few minutes, Draco leaned against her as she offered comfort for him. She breathed in. He smelled so fresh and masculine, a natural cologne that made her dizzy with the faintest wind of desire. She felt so warm in his embrace. Her rigid form soon melted into his, her arms fitting perfectly in the crevices of his spine and shoulders, her head gently nuzzling his. For a moment, heaven forgive her, she felt this position as natural...as something that was meant to be. But if only Draco were not Draco but someone else... Someone she could possibly embrace without feeling that stab of discomfort and shame.
Soon, his breathing became less raspy and more calm. Hermione knew, with immense relief accompanying this knowledge, that his pain subsided. Poor man. A Malfoy or not, she felt that no one should suffer through that sort of pain.
His arms began to grow lax, as did Hermione's. The arms that had embraced her upper body so tightly gently slid down to her waist. His hands rested lightly upon her hips. Draco moved back, blinking to rid himself of the haziness that clouded his eyes, and stared down at her. A mix of emotions—including that of confusion, tenderness, regret, and anxiety—surged through her body.
They stared at each other for a few moments. When Draco did not say anything, Hermione smiled gently, feeling the corners of her lips shaking at the corners, and looked away from his eyes. She stared at his cheeks and lips, unable to bear his stare any longer. She gently ran her fingers down his face, wiping away the beads of sweat that framed his eyes.
"Are you all right?" she asked softly.
He neglected to answer for a few minutes. His grip on her hips got tighter, firmer, as if she were to be taken away from him at any given moment.
Hermione felt her heart beating faster, that discomfort tensing her body again. Why was he staring at her like that? For what was he searching her face? His hands on her hips warmed her... The pits of her stomach grew hotter and a burst of wonder and anticipation coursed through her veins. What was he about to do to her?
"I'm all right now..." he finally whispered.
She smiled. "Good. I was worried that..." She trailed off as Draco leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Then, just as she recovered from the sensation of his lips against her skin, Draco moved abruptly away from her. Cold air hit her body as he parted and headed towards his side of the library.
Hermione, in shock, watched his retreated back. Her hips, once warmed by his hands, now grew uncomfortably cold.
X
Draco, as he picked up the books, could not comprehend what he had just done. Had he just embraced the muggle-born? Hell, had he just kissed her?
His mark was to blame. He had resolved to apologize to her, (or say something as close to an apology without having to really apologize) and actually went up to her to do just that. But then, just as he began to speak, the mark on his shoulder started throbbing uncontrollably. It hurt, the pain so strong that it felt as if he were being branded all over again.
He closed his eyes for a few seconds. He had fallen on Hermione for support. He couldn't stand. Then she wrapped her arms tentatively around his waist and moved her hands up to his back, rubbing away the sore spots and relaxing his muscles. Just by that single action, her warmth spread throughout his body -- the comforting warmth that only a woman could offer. And not just any woman. The comfort that a woman could only offer if the man, being affectionate enough for her, would receive it. He recalled how her fingers rubbing his back offered relief, a distraction from the pain. Her fingertips had grazed over his mark. How had her touch subsided his pain? How?
In gratitude, he offered her that kiss. Or so he would have liked to think. If only it were that simple.
He simply did not kiss muggle-borns. He simply did not touch Gryffindors. But he had just embraced her a few minutes ago, and he even ran his hands down her soft body, admiring her gently curving figure. He wanted to scream, but instead, he breathed in her scent, floral like roses and smooth at the same time like vanilla, and forgot all about that sickening odor of burning flesh that drowned his senses during his branding.
Draco stared around him. There were just simply too many books. He could not possibly finish stacking these monstrous volumes by midnight. And he could not possibly have time to spend with...her. He stopped what he was doing, looked up to where she worked, and stared. What was it about that muggle-born who offered him so much comfort in his pain?
He smiled sardonically, rubbing his hand to where he was branded. An unimportant muggle-born of the Gryffindor house had just relieved him of the pain purposely inflicted upon him by Voldemort, heir to Salazar Slytherin and most powerful wizard alive. How ironic this whole night ended up being.
Quickly, he stacked up his books, staring at her for the briefest seconds. Being in the same room as her affected his body in the most strangest ways. He did not feel anything like lust around her. Instead, he felt comfort. And warmth. The feelings that he had rarely ever felt in his home or in bed. It was addicting.
Draco worked diligently from then on, stacking six or seven books at a time after grouping them according to their call numbers. He wanted to be near her, and the price of that was working a bit harder. Half an hour passed when he found that he had finished stacking his books. Hesitantly, slowly, he walked over to where she toiled, her back facing him. She still had so many books around her. She seemed so tired. Draco stopped walking almost five feet behind her. Being so near her caused his heart to flutter. Again, he recalled the softness of her cheek against his lips.
He surprised her as he walked up behind her and started to help her stack the books. It was an act of charity that Draco was wholly unaccustomed with doing. Even she knew that. For a few seconds, she stopped and stared up at him suspiciously, curiously.
"Come on. Do you want to get this done by midnight or no?" he asked gruffly, still unable to face her after that kiss.
"Yes. Thank...you."
He worked tirelessly...as he had never done before. Perhaps he helped her because of his gratitude. He didn't know. Nevertheless, she motivated him. When she stood on her tiptoes and struggled to place something on the top shelf, he gently took the book from her hands and being taller, set it there himself easily. When she tipped under the weight of a heavy volume, he took it into his own hands. He worked, yes, but his full attention was on Hermione and her comfort. What was this he felt? Care? Life never ceased to amaze him.
"Malfoy."
Her soft voice stunned him out of his stupor. He looked up to find her holding a candle. The warm golden glow of the candle flattered her complexion beautifully. Her dark eyes, now a shade lighter so close to the flame, stared into his own.
He settled the last book onto the shelf, and, in an attempt to seem as if nothing had happened, smirked. She noted this with a small smile and set the candle down onto a nearly table.
"What's wrong, Malfoy?"
"What do you mean?" he replied.
"You're wound couldn't have been that bad. I mean, you said that it was closed up, right? And that it wasn't bleeding?"
He laughed at her concern. Those brown eyes of hers searched his so apprehensively, so curiously, so innocently...like a child's.
"What are you laughing at?" she demanded suddenly.
"You," Draco simply replied, walking up to her and tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear. She seemed stunned by his action; it amused him. "Must you always concern yourself over others, Granger? Your heart is much to soft..."
Her eyes narrowed. Shadows sketched by the candle light flickered and danced across her face. Draco couldn't help thinking at such proximity with her flesh that she was very comely.
"Even when I worry for your sake, you complain!" Then, her eyes softened. Her fingers tentatively found their way up to his wounded shoulder, and she rested them there. "Is your shoulder all right?"
Draco neglected to answer that question. Instead, he countered with one of his own. "Why were you upset with me?"
Hermione blinked, flushed, and then stepped away. Her hand dropped. "Oh. That."
"Yes," Draco said, his eyes searching her face, "that. Why are you so reluctant to answer me?"
"We fought. Of course I would be upset."
"I wasn't."
"That's because you're selfish and you only care for yourself," Hermione replied, though her tone lacked its usual bite. Instead, she grinned slightly. Draco noted this with a grin of his own.
"What did I say to upset you so much, though?"
"Why do you care?"
Draco shrugged. "Call it a healthy sense of curiosity."
Hermione shook her head. "It was a fight. It wasn't anything in particular that you said." Hermione lied; still she could not allow herself to open up to Draco. She didn't trust him enough, though the pads of her fingers tingled with the desire to press themselves against his warm skin.
Draco crossed his arms and turned slightly away from her. "It apparently was something. I hear that you have sought out Blaise Zabini for comfort. And received it." His eyes got narrower. He remembered Blaise's earlier comments about Hermione.
"I truthfully wouldn't mind her body next to mine after a good shag..."
Was Hermione truly so into Blaise? Or were his comments empty?
"Wait, who told you that?"
Draco said nothing. He knew he should have mentioned Blaise's intentions for her...but he didn't say anything. Why? Didn't Hermione deserve to know? Or was he afraid of her response?
"Who told you that Malfoy? Blaise...he just happened to be there. He walked up to me... Then we just studied together at the library."
He almost laughed again. Just happened to be there? Yeah right. That shrewd bastard was more likely following you around...
Hermione then furrowed her brows. "Why do you care about what Blaise Zabini and I do? And don't start with that Death Eater rubbish because I am tired of hearing it, Malfoy."
"Then, I won't say anything."
"You're so impossible!"
Draco restrained a sigh. He felt goose bumps running up his arms. The library was colder that he had previously thought. He shivered and started walking out. He looked over his shoulder towards Hermione. "Are you coming with me, or are you going to stay here for the rest of the night?"
She quickly followed him. Draco stood outside in the dim hallway, and as soon as she got out, he closed the door and locked it. Just as he was about to head for his dormitories, Hermione tugged on his robe sleeve.
"Let me go, Granger. I'm quite tired," he said, his back still turned towards her.
"Not until you tell me why you're so concerned over Blaise and me!"
He rolled his eyes. "Again with that first name basis..."
Draco felt her long fingers twine around his forearm, and she pulled at it harshly in an attempt to turn him around. He obliged easily, and stared down into her chocolate-brown eyes that sparkled with anger. He smirked slightly which seemed to only enrage her further.
"Blaise. You call him Blaise. Why don't you call me 'Draco' from now on, then?" he asked in a silky voice.
"You asked me before why you upset me. I'll tell you now, Malfoy," she sputtered out.
Draco smiled languidly in the warm darkness, gently prying her fingers off his arm.
"Your whole being upsets me, Malfoy," she answered quickly, watching his hand entwine with hers. "Everything that you do, everything that you say upsets me."
"Truly?" he asked softly, keeping his eyes on the hand trying to pull away from him.
"Yes. You're rude, uncouth, cruel..."
He had expected this sort of answer. It sounded so trivial to him, right now, coming from her lips. "I don't think so." He concentrated on getting her hand in his grasp. She had nice hands.
X
What was he doing? Hermione rattled off something, anything that would come to mind. She wanted to tell him to stop, but instead, everything else but those words spilled from her lips. His hands worked against hers. She breathed in sharply as he impatiently enfolded her balled fist against in his palms.
"What are you doing to me?" he suddenly asked her.
"What?" she said quickly.
Draco stared into her eyes again and smirked. His other hand traveled up to her shoulder and slid towards her neck. Her chest fell up and down with anxiety as he leaned in closer to her. His breath heated the skin of her neck. Hermione closed her eyes, her fingers entwining with his.
"What spell have you cast on me?" he whispered. "What have you done to me, Hermione?"
Hermione's eyes shot open at the sound of her name. Had he just called her...?
X
At that moment, Draco had not wanted anyone as much as he wanted her. It took all of his will power to keep his lips away from the flesh of her neck. He breathed in her scent, reminded of standing in floral garden on a warm autumn day, drunken just by her smell. Her name escaped his lips without his knowing. In that instant, he did not care about her heritage. All he cared was that she offered him comfort when he was in pain. All he knew was that no one had done that. He had allowed no one to do that, but he had allowed her. The most unlikely of candidates.
He stared at her, her eyes narrowed in confusion, her pink lips parted slightly, on the verge of asking more questions. He grazed his fingertips over her cheek. At first, Hermione shuddered, as if his touch repulsed her, then she once again closed her eyes.
Draco pulled her along to a dark corner of the wall, and she followed readily. The hand that held hers loosened and repositioned itself on her waist. His other hand settled itself on the back of her neck and pulled her face closer towards his...until they met.
It was an electrifying moment for him, to feel her lips underneath his own, caressing him, pleasuring him. Draco pulled her small body to his in desperation, hearing her moan underneath him. He felt her hands against his chest, trying feebly to push his body away from hers. Draco smirked, only deepening his kiss. He twined his fingers in her long, brown hair, rubbing her scalp.
Soon, her resistance fell. Her hands that once tried to push him away slid across his stomach and to his waist. Underneath his lips, he heard her whimper slightly. For a few moments, Draco pulled away from her, his breaths raspy.
He heard her gasp, perhaps for air, perhaps for him. Then he tilted his head and, rolling her against the wall, his lips grazed her neck. Slowly did his hands progress down to her hips, tugging at her shirt. Her breaths came in gasps, her protests or urges in suppressed moans. He gently kissed the soft skin of her throat and stared into her eyes. They were clouded with confusion. She was unsure. She questioned his motives.
Draco breathed in and closed his eyes for a few seconds before leaning in.
"Just once more," he whispered.
After the briefest flutter of her lashes, she nodded slowly. Satisfied with that response, Draco's lips met with her hers.
End Notes: How did you like it? I hope the two aren't TOO much out of character. I rather feel really bad for Blaise though. I really like him, and here Hermione is, fooling around with Draco. ;)