Chapter 3: Settling Down
"Are you sure you can sneak me in?" he asked her quietly as they ascended a side staircase.
"No worries, I can roam the hallways as I wish because I'm Head Girl now. Gotta use the power I got, wouldn't you agree, Malfoy?"
There was a devilish smirk on his face as he replied, "Getting a little rebellious now, are we, perfect little know-it-all Granger?"
"You forgot mudblood," she said, almost unconsciously. She heard him give a quiet, grim laugh.
"Yeah, mudblood, my father's favorite term – but oh, I forgot, my father tried to kill me, that's right," he said bitterly. "You're saving my life, Granger, and I'm not an ungrateful beast." Flabbergasted, Hermione stared at him, then shook her head and went on without a word. Malfoy was no longer Malfoy if he was that bitter about his father, that much was certain – but how could she know that he was not just a consummate actor? After all, he had been the most sought-after boy in sixth year; girls swooned around him and had severe cases of hyperventilation when he even spoke to them, with his silvery eyes, slicked-back blond hair, well-built, though light figure, strong jaw, seductive looks….one could go on forever about the ladies' man qualities of Draco Malfoy. And yet he had never let his heart be taken, even though many girls had claimed that he had been in love with them. You could never tell with Malfoy; girls who had been lucky enough to obtain a date with him never recovered from it, telling of a constant thrill and unlimited imagination on his part.
The hallways were deserted, and the two passed quickly through them, watching out for prefects, teachers, and Filch. Just as they were turning the corner of the hallway that would lead to the Room of Requirement and safety, they heard rapid footsteps approaching from a side passage, unnaturally loud in the deathly quiet of midnight.
"Quick!" Hermione hissed, pushing Malfoy behind a statue just in time, for the next moment, Filch emerged from the dark passage – and to her relief, without Mrs. Norris at his heels. The cat would surely have sniffed out Malfoy's location immediately, and Hermione trembled to think of what would have ensued. Filch passed by her without even a move of greeting or even recognition, which the Head Girl was grateful for, but he must have seen the guilty look on her face, for he stopped, turned back, and confronted her.
"What have you been doing?" he growled menacingly. Hermione tried to keep her countenance as she replied,
"Nothing, just patrolling," she replied, controlling the quaver in her voice and seeming confident about her role in the middle of a deserted corridor at midnight. "I'm Head Girl," she reminded him hopefully. "I'm allowed to – " She instinctively stopped and stepped backwards as Filch moved closer to her; she could feel the statue pressing into her back; feverishly praying that Malfoy would have enough common sense to stay as still as possible. He need not have worried on this point. The caretaker sniffed the air suspiciously, and Hermione was forcefully reminded of a certain resemblance to his mangy cat.
"Why do you smell funny?" he asked warily. "You been rolling around in dirt or something?" His voice almost indicated a challenge for her to come up with a plausible excuse, and Hermione had begun talking before she knew what she was saying.
"I, uh, confiscated a dung bomb and then I met a flubberworm and it swallowed the dungbomb and it started burrowing into the ground so I went after it and it exploded so – "
BOOM.
The floor shook and they grabbed the wall for support, hearing a loud, cackling burst of laughter from the floor above. It was obvious that the perpetrator had to be –
"PEEVES!" Filch roared and hurried off down the hallway, leaving Hermione behind. "I'll KILL you this time, you little – little POLTERGEIST!"
Silently shaking with laughter and relief, Hermione watched as he disappeared into the darkness. Malfoy stepped out from behind the suit of statue and burst out into laughter too.
"A flubberworm that ate a Dungbomb?" he managed to choke out. Turning bright red, Hermione muttered, "Whatever," and walked on while the still chuckling Malfoy followed.
"Y'know, Granger, I never asked – where exactly are we going?"
"The Room of Requirement of course, where else?" she said in her usual know-it-all tone. "You can't be safe anywhere else in the castle."
As they approached the Room of Requirement, however, they found the area roped off and a distinct aura of magic around it.
"What?" she exclaimed, exasperated. "What's wrong with the Room of Requirement?" Getting closer to the shimmering rope, she read a sign that hung from it: 'Due to past occurrences, this room will be closed to all students. This is final, and any student attempting to enter will meet with highly unpleasant consequences.'
"Well," Hermione said. "It's final." She turned to Malfoy. "I guess we can't put you anywhere, so – "
"I'll leave now, there's no – "
"Wait," she said, suddenly remembering something. "You don't have to go – you can – " She looked at him thoughtfully. "I don't trust you, Malfoy," she told him finally, "but I'm not going to let you out of the castle if you really are innocent. Follow me."
She led him through passageways and doors to the Heads' dormitory, where she whispered "Honeysuckle tears" and entered the common room.
"Where are we?" Malfoy asked, looking around at the cozy room.
"A place you will never again enter if you don't go and take a long bath right now," Hermione replied coolly, and Malfoy chuckled. "Point taken," he said, and disappeared into the bathroom that she pointed out.
About an hour later, after Hermione had changed into her pajamas and was ensconced on the couch in front of the fireplace, reading a book, Draco Malfoy stepped out of the bathroom and as he closed the door behind him, she turned and started to say something, but stopped instantly. Indeed, Hermione had no choice but to gape. He only had a towel on around his waist, and the rest of his extremely well-built body was up for display. She could not stop herself from shivering as she ran her eyes over his muscular chest and arms, lean and hard from months of living in the wild. She remembered that he had been lithe as a Quidditch seeker for the Slytherin team the year before, but after his apparent ordeal, his muscles were as if from a dream…she noted the scars on him, and then brought her eyes up to his clean face, shaved and framed by shaggy long white-blond hair that fell carelessly into his silvery gray eyes. Except for those eyes he was almost unrecognisable from her memories of him…after a few moments of restrained admiration, his voice brought her back to reality.
"Like what you see, Granger?" he asked her with the ultimate smirk on his face. Hermione noticed that his voice was no longer dry and raspy but low and enticing. Feeling her own throat go dry, she managed to answer nonchalantly.
"Dream on, Malfoy."
Ignoring her comment, he went on. "Much as I would like to dazzle you with my incredible physique, I can't keep wearing a towel forever. Are there any clothes around?"
"In the Head Boy's room, maybe, go look."
She watched him as he turned and walked into the Head Boy's room. Minutes later, he emerged, dressed in black pajamas and black slippers, with a few buttons loose so that just enough of his chest was revealed for Hermione to feel uncomfortable. He was holding a piece of wood in his hand that uncannily looked like –
"My wand, Malfoy," she snapped, standing up, defenses on alert, mind racing. Would he use it to hex her? How could she escape fast enough to get help? How could she have been so stupid as to let him in? Her thought must have shown on her face, for Malfoy smiled and walked over to her as she backed up so that he had her backed up against the wall, fiercely terrified and uncomfortably conscious of his smoky woods-after-rain scent.
"I'm not going to hex you," he said and pressed the wand into her hand while stepping away from her. Saying that Hermione was astonished would be an understatement, for she simply stared at Malfoy, speechless, as he smirked at her shocked expression. "No need to gape, Granger," he said. "I know I'm absolutely irresistible, but just wait until I get some food in my body – can you get me something to eat? Please?" he added as he saw her chocolate brown eyes flashing. Hermione waved her hand in the direction of the fireplace.
"Just call for some food, the dorm is connected to the kitchen. And I don't want any, just to let you know."
"Who said I was going to get you any food in the first place?"
"You're so – ugh!" With those words, she walked over to the couch and sank down on it, folding her legs up and picking up her book again as Malfoy called for sandwiches, fruit, dessert, and lastly, firewhiskey.
"Students aren't allowed to drink alcohol – " she protested, but Malfoy simply smiled and carried the silver tray over to the couch, setting it down on the coffee table in front of the fireplace and seating himself next to Hermione.
"No worries," he said breezily before he started on the food with all his table manners intact, painstakingly lifting every morsel to his mouth before Hermione, exasperated and giggling at the ridiculous display, told him, "Devor the food, Malfoy. I can see you're dying to gobble it all up." There was only time for a smile before he tore into the food with the ferocity of a panther while Hermione continued reading. After he was done with the meal, he leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. "I should have come back earlier just for the food," he said, content. "And now – " He poured out two glasses of firewhiskey. "Now we can celebrate my return to civilization. Cheers." He handed Hermione a glass, but she refused to take it.
"I don't drink, Malfoy," she said resolutely.
"Oh, come on now, Granger, I know there's something more to you than the perfect little girl you show to the rest of the world. Just one glass, nothing more." His voice was low and persuasive, and she could feel her determination faltering, but she held firm and shook her head.
"Fine, I'll finish it off by myself then," he said, a little disappointed it seemed. Unconsciously, his arm draped over the back of the couch around Hermione so that she felt an almost overpowering desire to lean her head on his shoulder. Hurriedly, she stood up to prevent herself.
"I'm going to bed, Malfoy," she said, a little more sharply than she had intended. "You can sleep in the Head Boy's room, it's vacant." Seeing his puzzled look, she added, "Harry's Head Boy, and he's not gonna be here tonight, so you can stay." At the mention of Harry's name, Malfoy tensed up, and she could see that he still hated the Boy-Who-Lived.
She climbed the stairs to her room, but before she could get there, he called out, "I bet the Weasel would love to be here…so close to Granger – and in his own room too. Pity they gave it to Scarhead, but then again – "
"I'm warning you ferret – " she began, seething.
"Good night, Granger," he said, and Hermione could tell that he was unsatisfied, but why, she could not tell.