Disclaimer: The story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright is intended.
Twenty feet up in the air, Draco Malfoy was having the time of his life. The sensation of his heart, beating faster than any drum; the wind violently whipping his face and the cold, crisp air numbing his hands the higher he went. There was nothing quite like the sensation of flying for him.
Nothing but, perhaps, the feelings of Hermione Granger's lips upon his own.
As the firsts ray of light flickered through the red and gold curtains, life began to bustle around the seventh year girl's dormitory, and yet, Hermione laid, bleary-eyed and still as a statue on her bed. She had barely gotten any sleep the previous night, her brain too focused on Malfoy's words to grant her any rest. She couldn't help herself, had obsessed and over-analyzed every word that came out of his mouth, because she couldn't find it in herself to believe that he was hinting at...whatever it was that he was hinting at yesterday.
Lavender's high-pitched voice rang through the room to ask whether someone had seen the whatever-super-liner-golden-butterfly-effect her mother had purchased for her in Milan, yes, Milan, and Hermione decided to stay in bed a little longer. She wouldn't put it past Lavender to coerce her into helping and she didn't feel like dealing with her fellow Gryffindor without, at least,a pot of tea if it involved makeup. Especially if it involved makeup.
Soon, the voices drifted away and Hermione sighed. Time to rise, she thought. She dragged herself to the bathroom, purposefully bypassing her reflection. She was sure she could scare Peeves into dying a second time if he looked at her for too long. She quickly showered and brushed her teeth, and by the time she dressed herself she was literally starving.
A few minutes later she arrived in the Great Hall and went to sit next to her friends. As soon as she sat Harry shot her an unreadable look.
Great. Just what I needed.
Munching absentmindedly on her breakfast, Hermione wondered for the umpteenth time this week (this month!) how her life had gotten to this point. Malfoy's behaviour prior to the "Amortentia Incident" had been odd, but nothing pointed to him actually coming clean, apologising to her, or even evoking… the other incident. No matter how truthful he seemed or believed he was, without the incident in potion class he would have never come to her. She still wasn't even sure that all of this wasn't a huge joke to be honest. It wouldn't be the first time he'd played her and her good heart after all. Sighing, Hermione downed her cup of tea and started gathering her belongings when a little paper bird flew right into her bag. She knew exactly from which table it'd come, that's why she slammed her satchel closed and left the Great Hall.
Across the room, Draco's expression fell.
Sitting across the blonde-haired wizard, Blaise exhaled softly. It seemed like his tremendous match-making expertise and skills would be needed once again to help. Clicking his tongue, his eyes shifted subtly towards the man whose eyes haven't left Draco all morning.
Despite being a Saturday, Hermione knew that her sudden departure and subsequent absence wouldn't go unnoticed by her friends. That's why, instead of going to the library she decided to seclude herself in the Room of Requirement. Harry might guess her location if he decides to check the map and couldn't see her dot; he'd also know that if she elected to unwind there and not in the library, it'd mean she wanted to be left alone.
Left alone. Something Dr- Malfoy didn't seem to understand. He had always been like that, Hermione mused. Steadfast in his desires. Confident to the point of arrogance, resolute and oblivious to others needs besides his own. He pursued what he wanted with single-minded tenacity, until one day you would wake up and struggle to remember why you ever denied him in the first place.
A light shuffle drew her eyes to her school bag. She had left it right by the old-looking leather armchair upon entering the room. It was an exact replica of the one her paternal grandmother owned; an old but well maintained brown leather chair which was so weathered by time that it felt like the most comfortable thing one has ever sat on. Yet, she was currently laying on a soft rug right across the fireplace. There was something comforting in the way the heat hugged half of her body. She'd always loved fire.
She closed her eyes.
Draco knew moping was unbecoming of him, but what else was he supposed to do. She hadn't even spared a glance at his messenger bird. He knew logically that he should give her space, but what he wanted to show her was something that he should have said a long time ago. He knew that if that didn't move her, nothing would.
Hermione Granger had always been in his sphere of awareness. As a child, she had been too much; too loud, too abrasive for him not to notice, even as assured as he was in his belief that she was so beneath him that she didn't deserve an ounce of his attention. Potter has always infuriated him, but she managed to get under his skin in a way no one else could.
As ashamed - and he was, very much so - and pained as he was to admit it, he had been pleased when he'd first learned of her petrification -a suitable retribution in his mind. He totally deserved that broken nose the next year, he had been a right little shite all year.
Then, fourth year happened. He had been on his way to see that pesky journalist to feed her more nonsense about Potter when he heard snippets of an argument. Never wasting an opportunity to glean information -currency more valuable than galleons in Slytherin dormitories- he quickly hid behind a pillar to eavesdrop. Just in time to observe Hermione force that Skeeter woman into her animagus form and trap her into a jar.
He had wanted to snog her there and then.
After that, Draco had taken to watching her more often. He had briefly entertained the thought of babbling to any of the teaching staff and promptly discarded that idea. He didn't exactly know how to explain, but he didn't want her gone. He wanted- he wanted to see more of that side of her. He had been carefully observing her face as she sealed the jar shut, and she had taken pleasure in the act. For all that she believed herself pure and morally above the Slytherins, she was more like them than she liked to believe; and in his hormone-riddled body, fourth-year Draco found this unbearably alluring.
He never planned on acting on this thing he was feeling, he was just observing her, noticing interesting things about Granger. The way her eyes lit up when she learned something new, the way her brow furrowed in irritation when someone displeased her -more often than not, in an academic capacity- or the way she chewed her lips raw when presented a complex problem. Things would have stayed that way if not for that blasted Yule Ball.
He had casted the barest glance at her figure descending the stairs and that had been enough to empty his brain of any coherent thought.
No one could blame him for not being able to keep away from her after that. He managed to restrain himself for five long minutes after watching her leave the Great Hall to chase after the pathetic ginger before excusing himself and tracking her down.
He found her sitting on the floor, dejected. She had been crying but had quickly dried her tears upon hearing someone coming her way. Her cheeks flushed in anger so prettily when she saw it was him. It took him only a few minutes to provoke her into action. The moment she drew her wand towards him, Draco was upon her, kissing her into silence.
He woke up the next morning in one of the infirmery's beds, Madam Pomfrey hovering around him. It took three weeks and two professors to lift the curse she had cast on his lips. Still, that hadn't stopped him from seeking her out. Well, until… he didn't want to think about that right now.
Sighing, he downed his glass of pumpkin juice and stood up when Blaise draped an arm around him.
The congenial smile on his face filled him with dread.
By Salazar's left nut…
Hermione awoke at once.
She was beginning to dream of that day again. It had been a long time since she dreamt of him at all, but the recent developments were making her think of Draco Malfoy more than she was comfortable with.
The first time around, he tricked her into spending time with him. She was with him because she didn't have a choice until she did. Still, she stayed. He had wormed her way into her life, into her so deep she didn't know how to drive him out. In the end, she didn't have to because his true nature put an end to this charade of a relationship she was deluding herself into believing.
She sighed.
The fire was still crackling softly in the background. Malfoy's paper bird had somehow escaped from her bag and was intermittently patting her nose. It was probably what had woken her up. She swatted it away but it only made the bespelled piece of paper hover over her head instead.
As annoying as your creator I see.
She sat up and cracked her joints, before making her way towards the armchair. Extending her right hand, she waited for the piece of paper to land on her hand before removing the charm. Unfolding it she began to read what Draco Malfoy desperately wanted to tell her. She skimmed the short note and chuckled. A place and a time. That boy had some nerves.
A dull noise on her right caught her attention; she skirted around the dark oak bookcase just in time to see the wall rearranging itself to fit a door that hadn't been there seconds ago.
Crumpling the paper in her hand, she walked to the door and wrenched it open. A faint draught ruffled her hair and, spiraling into place in front of her, was a new staircase leading to somewhere in the castle. She had a feeling she knew exactly where. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the academic part of her was still, after all these years, impressed by the magical feat that was this sentient castle; the part of her that was girl and love and heartbreak stayed frozen at the top of the stairs, half-in, half-out. The castle had given her a choice, she didn't if she was brave enough, foolish enough to take it.
She slipped her hand in her left pocket to grab the locket.
Exhaling she put her foot on the first step.