This is dedicated to the wonderful Rae of Honeysweetcutie. A quarantine fic with some tension, some humor, and some hair styling just for you, boo. Go check out her stuff, if you haven't already. She writes the most beautiful fics you'll ever read.
Hermione listened to the radio.
She listened to it all hours of the day and night, trying to "get information" as she said, but it grated against his nerves. The information hadn't changed. They had been here for days and it she insisted on listening to the idiots drabble on about theories and possible outcomes while commenting against what they were saying as if they could hear her through the box.
This was Draco's absolute worst nightmare. Okay, maybe he was being a bit dramatic. He had certainly lived through the worst thing he would ever go through; he was sure of that. But now, in this new world of Voldemort-free experiences, this would certainly take the cake as the worst thing that could possibly happen.
He tugged on the handle of classroom 204 again, knowing it wouldn't open. He had tried it hundreds of times now, all with the same results.
Pull on door
Yell in frustration
Use unlocking spells
Pull on door
Yell in frustration
Pound on door
Use unlocking spells
Yell in frustration
It had become an endless cycle in the last four days since the lockdown began.
He crossed the room and sat on the rickety, maple wood desk that was shoved into the corner. He set his jaw and stared at the door, willing it to open, knowing that it wouldn't.
He had read the theories posted in the Health and Wellness section of The Daily Prophet. He had heard about the rapidly increasing number of patients being admitted into St. Mungo's for the virus, most of which were pronounced dead within days. He had made the arrangements to be removed from his Eighth Year studies, to return back to The Manor and stay with his mother while the rest of the Wizarding World tried to avoid the plague.
And then, the lockdown happened.
First it was a few students in the infirmary, complaining of severe headaches and strange blue pustules on their bodies. Within hours, Madam Pomfrey was overwhelmed, every bed full and treatment potions running low. Students crying in agony as their muscles jerked and cramped. Students unable to stay awake, their eyes closing the moment they opened, falling in and out of consciousness where they stood. Students vomiting foul smelling acids onto the floor that ate through the stone and made their mouths bleed.
All students covered in painful blue pustules.
"Dragon pox!"
Draco tore his eyes from the door and looked to his left. "What?" He hissed, feeling the irritation of sleep deprivation and lack of a good meal creeping into his tone.
"They're calling it a form of Dragon Pox, now! Can you believe that?! Dragon Pox. As if that isn't something that we've dealt with before! People get Dragon Pox every day! Hardly anyone dies from it."
"My grandfather died from Dragon Pox." He said, narrowing his eyes.
Granger stopped her incessant rambling and turned to stare at him, eyes wide. "Oh. I'm sorry."
Draco shrugged. "He died years ago and he was very old when he did."
"This virus is running rampant, tearing through our communities and they're calling it sodding Dragon Pox." She continued, ignoring him and grasping the knob of the radio and turning it roughly to the left, forcing the droning voices coming from the box to stop.
"You should stop listening to that thing." He said, rolling his head on his shoulders and sighing as his neck clicked. "It's going to make you insane."
"Says the man who has been yelling swear words at a closed door several times a day for four straight days." She said, pursing her lips and arching an eyebrow at him.
"I need a shower." He grumbled. "They can't possibly expect us to stay locked away from the dormitories without-
"If you would just help me, we could transfigure a shower!" Granger cried. "We were given a classroom so the younger students could have access to things they can't transfigure yet, Malfoy! We are not the only ones out of comfort right now. Blaise and Pansy are in 203 and Neville and Theo are in 202. Tracey and Seamus-
"I don't need the bloody rundown of the room lists again, Granger." He snapped. "I can look at it myself."
"Then why do you insist on bringing it up?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Four days stuck in this Godric damn classroom with Granger has shown him he really needed to get a handle on how quickly he becomes irritated before he snaps and tongue ties the witch's mouth shut.
His eyes popped open. Actually… That could work…
"…And furthermore, I just can't believe there are people who don't think this is a problem! Half the school is sick, half the wizarding world is dead, and there weren't a lot left to begin with! And now there's people saying that it was some dark curse brought on by Voldemort's death! Can you believe the conspiracies?! I for one think-
"Granger." Draco interrupted.
"…I mean, honestly! Can you, with a straight face, look at someone who is suffering and covered in those painful pustules and tell them that they can't receive the potions they need because the Ministry is too-
"GRANGER." Draco roared.
The sudden volume to his tone caused her to jump slightly as she closed her mouth. He closed his eyes for a lingering second, taking a deep breath and enjoying the blissful silence that was so fucking rare in the days he'd been locked in this classroom with her.
"You don't need to yell at me, Malfoy." She grumbled, stepping toward the opposite side of the classroom and taking a seat on one of the dusty old desks.
"You don't stop talking if I don't." He pointed out. "Did they say how long we'll be locked in for? Did they make any mention of when we can leave the grounds and go home?"
Hermione shook her head. "It was mostly addressing the conspiracies and discussing the idea of it being a strand of Dragon Pox. They think it's only affecting younger people though, which could prolong our situation."
"Could prolong our situation." Draco repeated, enunciating each syllable with fury.
Hermione pursed her lips and nodded. "Yep." She said, the 'p' made a popping sound that instantly grated Draco's remaining nerve.
This year was not supposed to go like this.
The first few months back at Hogwarts had been awkward enough. Draco had spent hours answering questions asked by nosey students who wanted to know about the trials. He had answered each question as honestly and openly as he could without attaching too much emotion to the responses.
He wanted to forget the trials. Wanted to forget the nights he held his mother as she sobbed in his arms while his father remained locked in Azkaban. He wanted to forget the look on Potter's face as recounted the memories of what happened in the Manor that led him to testify on their behalf. He wanted to forget the night at The Manor altogether.
He had tried to forget The Manor.
August had been the first time he saw her after the war. She had walked into the room, her heels clacking against the stone, as if it were a job interview. She sat behind the podium, stated her name—Draco didn't know her middle name was Jean, he thought it was pretty—and began to recount the events at the Manor. She spoke, her voice strong as she recalled the torture she received.
He couldn't look at her anymore, his breath had caught in his chest the moment she spoke his first name out loud and he hadn't been able to take a proper breath the entire trial after.
When they were released from Ministry custody, it was under the order that Narcissa remain within The Manor for two years, with a trace on her. She would be watched, every spell she performed would be reviewed, and should her behavior warrant it at the end of the two years, she would be allowed to leave the confines of her home.
Draco, on the other hand, was ordered to return to Hogwarts to finish his N.E.W.T.'s, afterward, he would be attending a rehabilitation program through the Ministry and set free, so long as he did not perform any combative or dark magic and his marks stayed high.
Draco deserved more than that, and he knew it. He deserved to be rotting in Azkaban next to his father. He deserved the kiss of a dementor as his sanity drained from his body second by second. He deserved to be beaten by guards for what his actions had done, what they had costed the Wizarding World. What they had costed her.
Hermione snored in her sleep.
Draco wasn't sure if she knew, but it had certainly kept him up every night the last ten nights. At first, it had driven him mad. He would toss and turn on the hard, ministry issued cot he was given to sleep on in the classroom. He would clamp his hands over his ears and hum songs to try and lull himself back to sleep. Sleep would evade him, however, like it always did.
Draco wasn't sure when the dependency on Dreamless Sleep Potion began. It could've been sixth year, after receiving the Dark Mark. It could have been seventh, when he spent most of his time at The Manor, listening to the screams of muggles being tortured. It may have been after she had been tortured. But he had been unable to sleep without it for what felt like his entire life now.
And with Granger's snoring, it made things even more difficult.
"You look like shit." Granger said, running her fingers through her long, tangled locks, attempting to smooth them into some pathetic form of a braid.
"Well, if you would muffle that trollish breathing you do in your sleep, I may actually be able to rest my eyes for longer than twelve minutes at a time." He grumbled, taking a sip of his tea.
"It's allergy season, Malfoy!" She argued. "I can't control my congestion when I have no access to remedies for it!"
"So, you keep saying."
She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Will you please stop being such a twat for five minutes and help me with this? I think I've figured out a way to set up a shower."
"And how do you plan on doing that, Granger?" He asked, setting his mug onto the desk and looking up from his copy of Magical Herbs and Flowers.
"If we can set these desks upright, I can transfigure them into a stall. We can then cast an Agumenti inside of it and Tergeo the water."
"What about soap?"
She tore her hands through the front of her hair in irritation, messing up the attempted braid. "I don't know, Draco! At this point, I'd be happy just to stand under a stream of water instead of Scourgifying myself constantly!"
He looked back down to the column he was reading about the use of aromatic herbs in potions and slowly turned the page. He had become rather fond of actively ignoring Granger. He discovered rather quickly that it was something that got under her skin almost instantly, and he wasn't sure why he enjoyed that. Maybe it was the fire in her eyes when she scolded him, or the way her hair almost frizzed out on its own. Whatever it was, he had found a hobby in it.
He flicked through the book, listening to her grumble and groan on about how immature and ridiculous he was being. She struggled to stand the desks upright on her own and he got the almost overwhelming urge to remind her that she was a witch, and she could simply use her wand to move them.
He liked the sounds she made when she grunted in anger.
After what felt like hours of listening to her complain and hurl insults at him, Draco decided he would help. He really could do with a proper wash. There were only so many times a lad could scourgify his bollocks and still feel clean. He stepped toward the makeshift barrier she had put together with desks and flicked his wand, stacking a few more a top the ones she had spent so long trying to put together.
"You're a witch, Granger." He said, his tone every bit as condescending as he could manage. "You should act like it every once in a while."
She folded her arms over her chest and screwed her face up in anger. "I wanted to make sure they were the right shape!"
"The right shape?" Draco chuckled.
"Yes! I wanted to move them by hand before stacking them to make sure they were right!"
"Because if the shape is off you can't just…" He flicked his wand again, removing the desks he had stacked, and once more to re-stack them.
"You are so infuriating!" She nearly screamed at him. "I'm sorry my stupid muggle brain didn't think to use magic first! Forgive me for not being in the right state of mind when I've been locked in this damn room with you for over a week and one book that we're sharing and it's about herbology."
"Too good for herbology now, are we?"
"ARGH!" She yelled in frustration, throwing her hands into the air. "God, Malfoy! Why do you have to be such a prat all the time?! I'm trying to do something that will benefit us both! Look at you! Your hair won't know what to do if it goes much longer without a wash and a damn liter of gel to flatten it to your scalp!"
"I do not flatten my hair to my scalp!"
"What do you call that awful slicked back look you have then?" She laughed, crossing her arms again and looking at him with her eyebrows raised into her hairline.
He narrowed his eyes are her an pasted a scowl across his face. Stupid witch! What does she know about hair?! "And I should take hair advice from you? With that owl's nest on your head?!"
She looked upward and took a deep breath through her nose. "You know what, fine! You want to feel filthy all the time, that's on you. I'll transfigure myself a shower and at least have a sliver of happiness for a few minutes."
He stared at her while she continued stacking desks and transfiguring them into makeshift walls to create a little pocket attached to the makeshift loo they had. This was ridiculous. Shitting into transfigured buckets and eating tasteless food they conjured out of the supply they were given when the lockdown began. He was kicking himself for not thinking this would be an issue. For not believing the virus would get as bad as it had become. He was angry for not taking things seriously and not planning accordingly. After being in the clutches of Voldemort for so long, nothing felt that serious to him anymore.
He sighed. He wished he would have thought to at least bring toiletries. To at least have enough sense to think he may want to take a shower at some point! But, then again, he hadn't been expecting the Ministry to completely shut down the entire Wizarding community. No one was allowed to leave their homes. The Ministry recommended no more than four occupants to a home at a time, no more than two persons to a room. They still hadn't pinpointed the start of the virus, had no idea how it was spreading so rapidly and the treatments were being used faster than they could produce them.
How was any person supposed to plan for something when they had absolutely no idea how to combat it?
Hermione moaned in the shower.
It was never a particularly loud moan, more of a breathy sigh, if Draco were being honest. She always showered at night, just before getting ready for bed. Draco would change into the only pair of pajamas he had packed with him and then he would stand by the stall Hermione created. He would wait for her to enter, listen for the rustling of her clothes, and wait for her word to start the water.
He held his wand in the air, pointing it just right, so that the arch of the water would fall over the top of the stall and could be used as a shower. He tried to ignore the fact that there was a naked Granger less than two feet from him with nothing but a flimsy transfigured wall between them. Tried. But after five days of humming loudly to himself the only song he could remember under pressure, he grew bored of it and decided instead, he would listen.
She moaned as she washed her hair. He could hear her nails scrubbing into her scalp as the length of her wet locks slapped against her back. He could hear her sighs as she scrubbed her skin with the loofah he had transfigured for her out of a bit of yarn he found inside the drawer of the old desk. He could hear the change of water pressure hitting the stone floor beneath her feet as she turned to let the water hit her front side. He could hear—
"Draco!"
He snapped from his thoughts at the sound of her voice calling his first name. "What?" He hissed.
"I said you can stop now. I'm ready to get dry!" She said.
He flicked his wand and shoved it into his waistband, padding over to his cot.
She stepped out from the stall, her hair still dripping against her tee shirt. "Why haven't you transfigured that into something more comfortable, yet?" Granger asked, running her wand over her hair to dry it.
Draco shrugged. "It's not so bad."
She eyed him suspiciously and turned to her bag, pulling out the small tub she used in her hair every night. It was white and smelled like coconut and honey and it made her hair shiny.
"What is that?" Draco asked. "That goop you put in your hair?"
"It isn't goop, Malfoy. It's pomade."
"It's what?" He asked.
She walked toward him, holding the container out so he could better see it. "It's hair pomade. It's a muggle styling product I get from the salon I go to when I go home on holiday. It's meant to help tame your hair."
"It's not exactly doing its job for you then, is it?" He sniggered.
She rolled her eyes. "Would you like to try some? I'm sure your dying to plaster your hair down."
He narrowed his eyes at her and reached a tentative finger out, scooping some of the sweet-smelling goo onto his hand.
"No!" Granger laughed. "No, that's far too much. You only need a little!"
"Well, I've never used the stuff before!"
"May I?" She asked, moving her hand toward his fingers.
He nodded. "I guess." He grumbled.
She scooped the pomade off his fingers, putting half of it back into the container. She set the tin on the cot and worked the product into her hands before stepping forward, her feet on either side of his and her knees straddling his right knee. She leaned in and began running her fingers through his hair.
He repressed a small shiver as her fingers dragged through his hair, lightly caressing his scalp and tossing his hair about in different directions. He took slow, steady breaths as he tried to avoid the view of her chest, directly in front of him, as she moved her hands through his hair. He could see the gentle rise and fall as she breathed, her minty smelling breath washing over his face. He bit down on his tongue to suppress the small groan that dared to rise up in his throat as she inched closer, her breasts bouncing slightly under her shirt as she tugged on his head.
He closed his eyes, squinting them shut as tight as he could while she continued to style his hair, chuckling about how stubborn his pin straight locks were being. When she stepped back from him, he almost whined at the loss of her fingernails dragging against his scalp.
She crossed an arm over her chest, touching her opposite hand to her chin in thought. "There." She said. "Now your hair looks better."
He got up and followed her to the window where he could make out his reflection against the night sky.
He pulled his lips into a satisfied smirk. She was right. His hair did look much better than when he had used product to slick it back. And it certainly looked better than the untamed mop it had become since sixth year. It looked purposefully tousled and he quite enjoyed the face that he could still smell the productt
"Not bad, Granger." He said, turning to look at her. "Too bad I'm just going to rough it up while I sleep."
She shrugged. "You're welcome to use the product whenever you like. I can always duplicate it if it starts to run low."
He nodded, turning back toward his cot.
"Malfoy?"
"Yeah?"
"Why haven't you transfigured that cot yet? It can't be comfortable."
He turned back around to face her; an eyebrow arched as his arms hung at his sides. "What's my comfort matter to you?"
"If I wanted to see you sleeping uncomfortably, I wouldn't have testified on your behalf to make sure you still had the luxury of sleeping in a comfortable bed every night."
"That's why you testified on our behalf?" Draco mumbled. "To make sure I had a bed to sleep in?"
She took a few strides toward him, her hands on her hips as she studied his face. He could see the light in her eyes as she surveyed him, as if searching for her answer. "No." She said, turning around and heading to the opposite side of the room where her bed was pushed against the wall.
"Why did you then?" He asked, still standing in the center of the room.
"Go to bed, Malfoy."
He narrowed his eyes. Why wouldn't she talk to him about it? Why was she now choosing to be quiet? She hadn't stopped running her bloody mouth in twenty fucking days! Now she chooses to remain silent? Now she chooses to clam up and not answer his questions?
"Why did you testify?" He asked, his stubborn tone shaking with frustration.
He needed the answer. He needed to know why she had sat there in front of him, in front of the Wizengamot, and testified on his behalf. He needed to know what she saw in him that no one else did, what she saw that warranted her belief in him.
"I didn't think it was fair for you to go to Azkaban." She said. "Now, goodnight."
She laid down and turned to face the wall, her back to him. That wasn't a good enough answer. Why wasn't it fair?! He had thought it was more than fair! He had made his peace with what his life in Azkaban would be. He had been okay with withering away at the clutches of guards who wanted him killed for the terror his family had put theirs through.
"You didn't think it was fair?" He asked, running a hand through his perfectly tousled hair. Hair that she had tousled for him. "You testified on my behalf, in the name of fairness?"
"Go. To. Bed. Malfoy." She said again.
He clenched his jaw and puffed out an aggravated breath, turning to walk toward his cot. He laid down and felt the hard lump of the container of pomade under his back. He pulled it out from under his body and stared at the cannister, the smell of coconut and honey filling his nostrils as his eyes closed.
Hermione's eyes wrinkled when she laughed.
Draco had cracked open one eye, staring up at her through his lashes while she ran her fingers through his hair. She was smiling, her tongue sticking out just a bit as she concentrated on the sculpting of his hair. The smell of coconut and honey had become a comfort he sought out daily now. Or maybe it was just the feeling of her nails dragging across his scalp as she shaped his hair into purposefully tousled perfection every morning… Either way, he was comfortable with it.
"You know, you can do this yourself." She said, her sweet mint breath encasing his face as she bent over him.
"It doesn't look as good when I do it myself, I've told you that already."
She laughed again. He could feel her fingers twist around a particularly stubborn lock of hair as she tried to get it to fall in place with the rest. "Is that your excuse for everything?"
"It works, doesn't it?" He said, a smirk tugging up the right side of his face.
She returned his cheeky comment with a sharp tug on his scalp and he bit his lip to stifle the groan that tried to escape. It was torture, having her style his hair every day. The way she moved so close to him, her hands in his hair, her breath on his face…
He arched his back to adjust his shoulders as her tee shirt brushed against his face.
"There. Perfectly styled for no reason whatsoever." She said, stepping back and eyeing her work.
"You never know," Draco began, "Today might be the day we're allowed out of this Salazar forsaken classroom."
"It's been month." She said, walking toward the small kitchenette they had made and putting the kettle on. "You would think they'd have the potions ready by now."
"Healing potions are far more complex." Draco reasoned. "Especially if you don't know exactly what you're healing. They'll have to test them first."
"I understand how basic medicine works, Draco." She said, rolling her eyes as she pulled mugs from the cupboard.
He smirked at the sound of his name. He wasn't sure when she had started calling him Draco instead of Malfoy, but the sound of his first name coming from her lips left him feeling… complete. As if he had won some grand prize he had been looking after or been given something he had been long since denied.
"Are you going to send a Patronus to Potter today, then? Ask what's going on at the Ministry?" Draco asked, accepting the mug of tea she had made for him.
They had an impressive set up, for such a small space. Draco was proud of the complex transfiguring they had accomplished. The makeshift bathroom was just off the side of the kitchenette they had managed to put together, Granger even transfigured a few of the broken chairs that were left in the unused classroom to make a couch for a sitting room. Their beds were still on opposite sides of the room, a demand made weeks ago by Draco in hopes of distancing himself from Granger's snores.
"You know, you could send the Patronus." She said, sitting next to him on the couch and propping her feet up on the coffee table.
"Because Potter would love to hear from me." Draco rolled his eyes, sipping his tea.
She had made it exactly how he liked it. He couldn't remember ever telling her how he took his tea…
"Well, no, I suppose not." She agreed. "But you could contact your mother that way. Check in on her."
"I can't." He said simply, reaching to the coffee table and picking up the same copy of Magical Herbs and Flowers that he had already read thoroughly half a dozen times.
"The wards on the Manor should allow a Patronus message to pass." Granger said. "I can't see why it wouldn't."
"No, Granger, I can't. I can't produce a corporeal Patronus."
She blanched, turning the upper half of her body to better look at him. He sighed and closed the book, not bothering to mark where he was at. It didn't matter, he'd already read it. "What? Why not?"
"You're going to make me say it out loud, aren't you?" He grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"Say what? Draco, what are you on about?"
His name again.
He quite liked the sound of it coming from her.
"Brightest witch of our age and she can't even remember she's been locked in a room with a Death Eater for a month." He sighed, setting his mug on his lap. "The Mark, Granger. I can't produce one."
She pulled her head back a few inches, studying him with a look of sad confusion in her eyes. She tilted her head to the side a bit and Draco could tell he had made her uncomfortable.
"The Mark doesn't allow a Patronus to be produced?" She asked, her eyebrows knitting together as her eyes slowly landed on his forearm.
"I'm not sure that it doesn't allow for it… More the fact that if you're marked, you haven't had a great and happy life to think of something, have you?" He brought his mug to his lips, taking a slow sip. "It's hard to imagine something happy enough to cast a patronus when you're walking around with the reminder of all the fucked up shit you've done on your arm."
"You have no happy memories?" She asked, her tone sounding sad and pitiful. "None at all?"
He sighed. He really did not want to talk about this anymore. "I have plenty of happy memories. They just all involve my family, which is difficult to think about. Now, are you going to contact Potter today or are we just going to listen to that conspiracy driven radio show you insist on playing?"
Draco stared at her, expectantly. She looked like she wanted to say something, like she was chewing over her words in her head. That surprised him. Being confined with her for a month, he had learned she barely ever thought about the words she said. They seemed to just fall out of her mouth past any filter she may have.
He liked that about her. Her honesty, no matter the situation, was refreshing after being surrounded by deceit for so long.
"Why did you take the mark?" She asked, her voice barely audible.
Draco turned his head to look at her, eyes wide. He had not been expecting that. He had expected that her thoughts were turning into some long-winded lecture about family and happiness and then possibly, a small lecture on the correct way to produce a Patronus. He had not planned on answering questions about his darkest days.
"Why did you testify for me?" He asked.
"I asked you first." She said, raising her eyebrows.
"Technically," Draco began, taking another slow sip of his tea. "I asked you first."
"It doesn't count when you've asked the same question every day for almost two weeks."
"Answer the question if you want me to stop asking it."
"I already told you!" She was getting irritated, he could tell by the way she set her jaw. Pursed and tight, her eyes slightly narrowed and the crease in her forehead deepening. "I didn't think you deserved to go to Azkaban."
"Yes, all right, but why? I did enough to warrant it. I've done terrible things, Granger. Things I hate myself for…" He stared into his lap, his thumb rubbing the handle on his mug. "Why would you want to see me walk free?"
He looked back up at her, his eyes roaming her face as she studied him. He watched as her tongue darted out of her mouth, swiping across her lips to wet them as she pulled the bottom lip between her teeth.
"I'll go send the Patronus to Harry." She said, suddenly standing up and crossing the room. "Will you make breakfast, then?"
Draco sat in confusion. She had been dancing around the question for weeks now. She had been giving him nonanswers and returning his question with a question. She already knew why he took the mark. She was at the damn trials! She heard him recount that horrific night to the entire Wizengamot! He didn't need to repeat it.
But she refused to tell him the actual reason why she testified.
Hermione danced when she ate.
Draco wasn't even sure if he noticed that she did it. But every time he made a meal, she would wriggle about in excitement, shaking her shoulders with a sweet little smile on her face. She would close her eyes when she took the first bite and do her little dance of happiness.
He lived for her happy dance.
He had taken on the majority of the cooking. Hermione confessed she hated cooking with magic and after explaining to him how long she had been forced to do it over the time she spent roaming the English Countryside with Potter and the Weasel, Draco took on the responsibility. If only to see her make that face at him and shimmy her shoulders in happiness.
"We're running low on food again." Draco said, as he pushed a bowl of pasta toward her. "We've got enough for three more days but we'll have to send for more soon."
"I quite enjoy this pasta." She said, sticking her fork into the bowl of spaghetti Bolognese. "But it will be nice to have something different. I'm hoping they send us chicken in the next care box."
He watched her, a smile tugging his lips upward as she took the first bite, closed her eyes, and danced about in her chair. "Yes well, ministry issues boxes don't really offer a shopping list." He said.
She laughed. "I know." She took another forkful of pasta, smiling around the silver. "It really is good, Draco. You have a knack for this."
He shrugged. "Cooking is a lot like potions. It's easy enough once you know the methods."
"Mine never tastes this good, though." She said, her face pinching in thought. "And I know the methods."
"Your potions are never as good as mine, either." He teased, taking a forkful of pasta.
"I received an O in every potions class I've taken!" She defended.
"Yes, but not without your hair frizzing about your head and your brow sweating into your cauldron. I'm just a natural." He joked, taking another bite of his pasta.
"A natural arse maybe." She mumbled.
He choked on his laughter and shook his head. "Can't handle someone being better at something than you, can you Granger?"
"It's not that you're better at it." She said, patting her napkin over her tomato stained lips. "It's that you were given favoritism in the classroom."
"Was I?" He asked.
She nodded. "Professor Snape certainly favored you."
"Slughorn didn't." He pointed out. "And at any rate, Snape didn't favor me. He just didn't like you."
She rolled her eyes. "It's the same thing."
He burst into laughter. "Snape may have been my Godfather but-
"Snape was your Godfather?" She asked, her eyebrows shooting high on her forehead.
"Oh.. erm, yeah. I thought you knew?"
"No." She said. "Why would I have known that?"
Draco shrugged. "I just assumed most people did. He and my Father were mates. Surely, you knew that?"
"I knew he had a friendship of sorts with him, Harry had pieced that together… but I didn't realize they were that friendly."
Draco nodded. "Yeah. Snape was always around. He became friends with my father back when they were in school. My father was a few years older than he was, but he said Snape always understood things beyond his years. He was around a lot when I was young. Once I started here, he didn't come to the Manor as often, but he was still present for holidays and gatherings."
"You spent your holidays with Snape?" She asked. "I can't even imagine what that was like."
"Well of course you couldn't." He reasoned, taking a sip of water. "You only knew his as this greasy old bat that taught potions and picked on Potter. He was a good Godfather though. When I was young, he'd spend Christmas with us. He didn't have anywhere else to go and my mum hated the thought of him being alone. He used to bring these bloody amazing teacakes with him. He baked them himself and-
"Snape baked teacakes for your family?!" She asked, laughter filling the room.
Draco smiled and nodded. "Oh, yeah. He taught me to cook, actually. That's probably why I'm any good at it. He was good at teaching, when he wanted to be."
"Do you miss him?" She asked, her expression pulling into a concerned sadness.
Draco sighed. "Yeah, I do. No one really cared that he died, not until after Potter came out and said what he said about him. All that stuff about how he was actually working for the Order and put himself at risk… But I cared. My parents cared. And we weren't even able to go to the funeral. I regret that. I regret that I wasn't there to say goodbye to him."
Draco's breath hitched and he felt the ache in his throat. He had never told anyone that before, and he wasn't exactly sure why he was sharing it now, with Granger of all people. He looked up from his bowl when he felt her hand rest on top of his, her fingers squeezing his hand ever so lightly, an understanding look in her eyes as she stared at him. Her hands were small compared to his, cool and soft. She let her hand linger a few moments before pulling it back to her lap. He missed the feel of it when she did.
A long, heavy silence hung over them as she shifted in her seat, pushing her bowl away from her. She seemed to be deep in thought, as if something was gnawing at her mind. Draco gently pushed his bowl away as well, sitting back into his chair and waiting for her to say whatever was on her mind.
"You were just a kid." She whispered. "Just like us. Just like me, and Ron, and Harry. None of us deserved what happened to us. None of us deserved to be apart of that war, to watch so many people we loved go away or die."
He narrowed his eyes slightly, keeping his gaze on her face as she spoke. He crossed his arms over his chest and lightly drummed his fingers against his bicep.
"That's why I testified for you." She said, turning her face to look at him. "You were doing what you thought you had to do to survive, and it didn't seem fair to let you spend the rest of your life in Azkaban without a second chance to make things better. After we found out about Snape… He wasn't all bad. Sure, there were qualities that were maybe… undesirable in him, but he wasn't all bad. No one is all bad. We were all young and just doing the best we could. And then when we got picked up by the snatchers and taken to your house-
"We don't have to talk about it." Draco interrupted. "I don't… You shouldn't have to think about that day anymore."
"I think about that day every moment I'm awake." She said. "Every moment that I'm stuck in this room with you, I think about that day."
Draco clenched his jaw as he felt his chest shatter. She was stuck here with him. They hadn't chosen to be put here, together. They were Head Boy and Head Girl. They were made to room together and wait out the lockdown. She was just making the best of a bad situation and being here with him, reminded her of being tortured on his Drawing Room floor.
He felt terrible. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Being here, looking at his face, listening to him talk and tease her… It must have just been a constant reminder of how horrible he was to her for so many years, of how he had done nothing when she was being tortured in front of him, but stand there in shock! She must hate him. She must-
"I think about the way your father grabbed the back of your neck and forced your face to Harry's. I think about how you lied to him. You knew it was Harry. I could see it in your face, you knew it was him. The moment you saw me and Ron, you knew it was Harry. But you didn't say so… And I think about the way you looked at—at me. The horrified look on your face while your aunt… While she did what she did. You didn't want to be there watching it, anymore than I wanted to be there receiving it."
"Granger I-
"No, Draco, let me finish. You've asked me why I testified. I testified because for months, all I could think about was your face, that night. Sure, I thought about the people I lost, I thought about everything else that had happened. But I always went back to your face. You were terrified. And I could tell, I just knew you weren't meant to be there. Had it been another life… Had you been given better choices… I think you would have chosen differently. I thought you had the right to choose differently."
Draco stared at her, his mouth slightly open and his heart beating furiously in his chest as he tried to process what she was saying. She wanted him to pick a better life for himself. She wanted to see what he could do outside of the reins of his father. Wanted to see if he could be a better man.
He wanted to be. Even if it was just to prove her right.
Suddenly, the overwhelming need to feel her lips on his crashed over him, propelling his body forward across the table. He cupped the sides of her face in his hands and gently pressed his lips to hers. He panicked. She stayed rigid beneath him, holding her breath as he tried to pull it from her lungs.
She hated him! What the actual fuck was he doing?!
He began to pull away, realizing too late, the error of his judgement. As his head pulled from hers, he felt her fingers graze the back of his head and her lips moved beneath his. She sighed into him, sitting up to get closer and he felt his panic dissipate. He leaned back into her, only barely noticing the clattering of his bowl as it hit the stone floor and shattered.
His right hand moved into her hair, twisting his fingers into her curls as his left dropped down to neck, his thumb against the column of her throat as her jaw moved slowly, her lips soft and sweet pressing against his.
She pulled away first, breaking the kiss and taking small gasping breaths as her face lingered in front of his, her nose brushing his own and her breath hitting his chin.
"Draco…" She breathed, her eyes flitting across his face. Searching him for an answer to a question she had yet to speak. "Draco I-I-I… can't." She pulled further away, her hands leaving his hair as she stood up and began to pace the length of the room.
Draco sat back in his seat, ignoring the tomato sauce stain on his white button up and breathing heavily. What had he just done?! His fingers darted to his lips, touching them lightly as if maybe the traitorous flesh held some answer that he was unaware of.
"Granger… I- I'm sorry." He said, blinking several times as he tried to make sense of what happened.
She turned and looked at him, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip. "I-I don't want you to be sorry… I mean, you shouldn't… I… I don't know!" She said, shoving her hand through her hair and flipping the length over her shoulder.
He looked at her, watching her as she paced, muttering to herself. She looked mad, like she was trying to reason with herself in some language he couldn't understand.
"I don't deserve the comfort of a nice bed." He spoke, the words spilling from a long-repressed hatred for himself. Words he never uttered out loud, to anyone. Words he barely acknowledged himself. He began speaking them, and he couldn't stop. "I don't deserve to have anything of comfort after I did what I did. I don't deserve to sleep at night knowing you have nightmares that keep you awake. I didn't deserve the kindness you showed me and my family, the testimony you gave to save me a life of suffering when I did nothing but impart suffering on you for so long. And when I had the chance to change that, I didn't. I just- I just stood there! I just stood there, Hermione, and watched you! I couldn't look away! I couldn't do anything! I just watched as she… As she tortured you and—fuck! I wish I could have done something. I wish I would've done something!"
She had stopped pacing. She was now standing, her back against the counter top, her palms on either side of her, gripping the wood, holding her in place. She was chewing at her lip again, her chocolate eyes wild with questions as they darted around his face, flitting between his eyes as she tried to make sense of what he was telling her.
"What happened… After we left the manor… What happened to you?" She asked.
He sighed, closing his eyes and scrubbing his face with his hands. "It doesn't matter-
"Yes, it does." She said. "I saw you during the battle. I saw you and… Before Crabbe set the place on fire… You looked like you didn't want to be there."
"Because I didn't." He said. "I didn't want to be there. I hid, Hermione. I hid during the battle. While you and Potter and Weasley were off fighting and defending lives, I was hiding. I was terrified of being there and then you went to the Room of Requirement and I thought… I don't know. I thought maybe you had a way out. So, I followed you. I followed you and then the fire…"
"What happened to you after we left the Manor, Draco?" She asked again, walking toward him and taking her spot at the small table. "What did they do?"
He could feel his jaw tremble, the itch of the scar across his back as it burned with the memory. He closed his eyes, grimacing in pain. "They beat me." He said. "Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix. They took me into the cellar and they beat me for not saying who you were sooner. For… For letting Potter get the wands. They beat me with anything they could find to use, and when that had broken, they used their fists."
When he opened his eyes, his vision momentarily blurred from the cloud of tears unshed, he could see her holding her hand over her open mouth.
"Draco- I… I didn't know."
"No one does." He said. "It's not really something I go broadcasting about the castle."
She reached a tentative hand toward him, hovering just above his arm before lightly touching it. "You didn't deserve that."
"Neither did you." He said, placing his hand over hers.
Hermione liked to watch the sunrise.
Draco had made a habit of laying in bed, long after he could hear her stirring. After their conversation a few nights ago, she had transfigured his bed for him. Making it lavishly comfortable and he thought he may never want to get out of it. He had forgotten what difference a comfortable bed could make.
She would pad over to the tiny kitchenette and make herself a cup of tea. Then, she would climb onto the counter and sit, her knees drawn up to her chest, as she stared out the window. She would watch the sun break over the horizon, its rays licking the sky as it brightened the grounds and chased the stars away.
Until recently, Draco had always loved watching it set, the cool air that the night brought always calmed him. But now, he would wake before dawn the rest of his life if it meant he could see her in these quiet moments. These moments where nothing was expected of her, where she didn't have to be smart or brave or clever. Where she didn't have to have the answers or ask a question or fill the air with facts. He enjoyed watching her relax against the window, her breath fogging the glass as she sipped her tea and hummed to herself. He wondered what song she had stuck in her head, wondered if it was some muggle song or if it was something he would know.
But he never asked.
He thought she deserved these moments of peace, without having to be disturbed. She deserved every moment of peace she ever sought, and he would give it to her. Even if it was as small as laying in his bed or as grand as buying her an island in the South of France. He would give it to her.
He didn't know when his feelings had changed. When he started to so desperately feel the need to see her smile, to make her happy. He would never admit it, of course. He would never tell her that he wanted nothing more than to see her eyes wrinkle up at something he said or did for her. That he loved the soft melody of her laugh or the way she always had some random fact about whatever topic they were discussing.
She deserved to know. But he would never tell her, because she deserved better than him.
He could still feel the tingle of her lips against his, even though it had been days. He could still taste her on his tongue, even though he had washed his mouth out several times. He could still feel her fingers as they twist into the back of his hair.
He wanted to feel it again, more than anything. But she deserved more.
She deserved someone who wasn't so self-loathing. She deserved someone who had always known how amazing she was. She deserved someone who had a bright future and a brilliant past. She deserved someone who didn't have to apologize for watching her be tortured on her floor. She deserved someone who would never put her in that situation in the first place.
When the golden glow of the sun had finally filled the room, Draco sat upright in his bed. He stretched his arms high above his head and turned his head about, feeling his neck click a few times.
"Good morning." She said, her eyes meeting his and a small smile tugging at her lips. "You want a cuppa?"
"That'd be nice, yeah." He said, standing up and leaning over to touch his toes, stretching his back out. He began digging through his bag for his jumper and pulled it out, performing a quick refreshing spell before tugging it over his head.
"Why do you always put a jumper on first thing in the morning? If it's too chilly in here for you, I can warm it up." She said, pouring the hot water into the mug she had gotten down for him.
He padded over to the table and chewed the inside of his cheek a moment. "Erm… It's not that it's too cold." He said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just… I like to keep my arms covered."
"Why?" She asked, handing him the steaming mug.
He sighed, staring at her with a deadpanned expression. "Granger, I know it's early but please don't make me spell it out for you." His eyes roamed to his left arm before bringing the mug to his lips and taking a long sip.
"Oh." She said, a blush creeping across her cheeks. "I didn't… You don't have to cover it, you know. It's just us here."
He arched an eyebrow, looking over the rim of his mug as he took another sip. She really did make a nice cup of tea. "You want to see it?"
She sat at the table, propping her elbows on it and lightly drawing a ring around the rim of her own mug with her finger. "It's not that I want to see it… I just think you should be able to wear what you want. If you're warm, you shouldn't have to stay in a jumper."
He grabbed the hem of the jumper, pulling it over his head and balled it up, tossing it toward his bed. It landed just shy, crumpled on the floor. He ran his fingers through his hair and took another sip of his tea, placing his left arm on the table.
He watched her as her eyes trailed from her mug to his forearm, staring intently at the angry, black blemish of his skin. She looked like she was deep in thought, her lip pulled between her teeth and her eyebrows furrowed together. She reached her hand out, moving toward his arm and he flinched. Her hand hung, midair, as her eyes found his. He held her gaze, his entire body tensing up as her fingers brushed against his skin. With the lightest of touches, she traced the outline of the brand, her head tilted and her eyes finally leaving his to follow the movement of her fingertips.
"Will it ever go away?" She whispered, her fingers lingering against his skin.
He studied her face as she looked intently at his arm. He could count the freckles across her nose, see the individual eyelashes framing her warm, chocolate eyes. "I don't know." He answered, his words breathy as his heart stuttered wildly in his chest.
"Why did you take it, Draco?" She asked, pulling her hand back from him and sitting upright in her chair. She pulled one leg up, resting her foot on the seat, and wrapped her arms around her knee.
He sighed. "I was afraid of what would happen if I didn't."
"What would have happened?" She whispered, resting her cheek on her knee as she stared at him.
"I don't know." He admitted. "I think that's why I was scared. Not knowing what would happen was worst than knowing exactly what I would have to do if I took it."
"It's always the unknown that's the most frightening, isn't it?" She responded, almost as if she were talking to herself.
They sat for a long time, her head resting on her knee, her eyes glossing over him. He drummed his fingers lightly on the table, pulling his leg up to rest his ankle on his thigh. He wondered if she knew how beautiful she looked in the morning. Her hair sticking out in every direction, a halo of wild curls falling down her back and into her face. The slight flush of red in the apples of her cheeks. Those ridiculous pink pajama pants she wore, that hung loose from her frame, covered in little purple and blue hearts. The slightly baggy light purple t-shirt that matched…
He wasn't sure exactly when he began noticing how attractive she was, but he knew it had happened before this. Before they had been forced to room together for weeks. Before she had click-clacked her heels into the trial and took her seat behind that podium.
Maybe he had always thought she was beautiful?
Maybe it was that same fear of not knowing what would happen if he did something about it that kept him from ever looking at her in this light. In this warm, glowing, early morning, sleepy eyed light. He knew she was perfect, in every sense of the word, he supposed he had always known. He watched her mouth move as she talked, memorizing the movement of her lips and the way her tongue caressed her teeth as she-
"Earth to Draco!" She said, waving her hand in front of his face, snapping from his trance.
"Sorry. What?"
"I said you should take a shower and then make us breakfast."
"Bossy witch, aren't you?" He chuckled.
"Well, considering your hair is standing up on it's ends, it seems like it could use a wash. And you know you're a far better cook than I am."
"It isn't difficult to make eggs, Granger."
"Yes, but you make them so much better than I do." She smiled sweetly at him, standing from her chair and stepping over to put her mug back in the cabinet.
He rolled his eyes and cast a quick cleaning spell on his mug before handing it to her to put away. "I understand Granger, just using me for my talents in the kitchen."
"Well if you had other talents that didn't consist of grating my nerve and complaining about being locked together, I would exploit those as well." She laughed.
"Oh, I have other talents, Hermione." He said, his eyes landing on her with intensity as he watched her squirm under his gaze. He saw as the light flush in her cheeks deepened and creeped to her ears before she rolled her eyes and looked away.
"Shut up, you git." She said, half-heartedly.
He smirked and walked over to the shower stall stepping inside and undressing. He tossed his clothes over the top of the stall, keeping his wand with him. He heard her cast the Agumenti and waited a moment before feeling the warm water hit his back. He pointed his wand to the stall and murmured a Muffliato and set his wand on the ledge next to the bottles that held the shampoo that they shared.
He wondered if she knew that he silenced the shower. If she knew that he used that time to be alone with his thoughts. It was the only sliver of privacy they were granted, and he often took full advantage of it. Using the time to wallow in pity for himself or be angry that he was in this ridiculous situation in the first place. Today, however, his thoughts flowed into the same stream they had drowned in for the last few days. The curly headed girl who was humming on the other side of the shower stall.
He thought of her lips on his, her fingers dragging against his scalp, her soft, breathy sighs… He felt all of his blood rush downward, the ache in his groin as the water trickled down his back. He closed his eyes and let out a low hiss as he grasped himself, pumping back and forth as he thought of the way her curves looked just beneath that purple cotton t-shirt. The way she arched her back and tossed her hair over her shoulders… He tightened his grip, feeling his breath hitch in his throat as his pace picked up, moving over his length in quick, needy pulses.
Her eyes staring at him, her fingers grazing his skin, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. The smattering of freckles across her nose, the way she says his name… The image of her kneeling before him, that perfect curly head moving closer to him, her pouty, pillow soft lips parting as her perfect fucking mouth opens to take him in it.
"Draco… Are you almost finished?" He heard her voice call from the other side of the stall.
"Yeah." He grunted out, clenching his teeth as he pumped his hand hard and fast up the length and back down, leaning back against the flimsy stall as he groaned, his breath catching in his chest as his release hit the stone floor, swirling with the water into the makeshift drain.
He panted, taking a minute to collect himself as he quickly washed off and rinsed the rest of the soap from his hair.
"Granger, you can stop the water." He called, ending the Muffliato and using his wand to dry himself off.
He Accioed his trousers and hastily pulled them on. Did she know what she did to him? Was she aware that he wanked to her almost daily now? Did she know that her mouth is the only thing he can think about—the way she chewed her lips, how she stuck her tongue out when she was concentrating, the dimple in her right cheek when she smiled, the way her lips felt on his, the way he so desperately wanted to feel those lips on every inch of him?
When he exited the stall, she was standing near his bed, the tub of pomade in her hand, waiting for him as she did every morning.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his skin still tingling from the rush of climax only moments before. She stepped forward, setting the small jar in his lap after dipping her fingers into it. She stood over him, slightly hunched as she worked the product into his hair. He closed his eyes, a soft sigh blowing through his nose. She was standing with his knees between her thighs, almost straddling him. He could feel the heat of the inside of her thighs pressed against the outside of his and he pursed his lips, trying not to concentrate on the feel of it.
She dragged her fingers through his hair, twisting the blonde locks around and lightly scratching the top of his scalp. He felt her breath hitting his face as she stooped lower, getting eye level with his hair so she could make share each strand was in its place. She worked the remaining product into the crown of his head and a breathy groan tugged from his chest as her fingernails grazed just behind his ear.
His eyes shot open, met instantly with the curve of her chest beneath her shirt before she quickly pulled away, holding her hands awkwardly at chest height.
"I… erm… I didn't mean-
"Granger. Stop." He said, closing his eyes as embarrassment crept into his chest.
"I only meant that I didn't mean to massage you in that-
"You're making it worse." He mumbled, taking a deep breath through his nose. He was mortified. He had just wanked to Granger in the shower, which she was on the other side of, and now he was moaning at her touch? For fuck's sake.
Hermione fidgeted when she was anxious.
The last two days she had been pacing the room, running ruts into the ground. She bounced her leg nonstop when she was seated and she twisted her hair through her fingers absentmindedly almost constantly. It was driving Draco mental.
The fidgeting began shortly after she had heard him moan as she styled his hair. He had been silently chastising himself since, angry that he lost control of his caution that way. But the ministrations of her nails dragging against his post-climax scalp had been too much. The smell of her invading his nostrils, the heat of her breath on his face… It had overwhelmed him.
It had also solidified that in no world, would he ever feel her lips on his again. That the kiss they shared had been a moment of weakness, on both parts. Him giving into his attraction to her and she giving into her pity for him. He had given into the fact that someone cared to hear him talk, that someone gave enough of a shit to think he deserved to be better. It had been so long since he had heard someone say his name the way she did, so long since someone was on his side.
"Granger… You're going to wear through the stone if you keep pacing like that." He grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and taking a sip of the tea she had set on the table for him.
"Huh?" She said, turning to look at him.
"I said stop pacing. You're driving me mad."
"Oh… Sorry." She said, taking a seat at the table and sipping her tea.
Draco sighed. The air in the room had been awkward and tense. He knew they needed to address it if they hoped to get past whatever it was that was happening. They had no idea how long they would remain trapped in this classroom together and he had no bright hope of them being able to leave anytime soon. According to the radio show Granger played every day, they had only just started testing the potions on people who were sick and they had to wait and see if there would be any adverse side effects or if the potion they had created would even work to heal the people who were sick.
"Draco I-
"Granger we need-
They spoke at the same time. He scrubbed his face with his hands and ran his tongue along the front of his top row of teeth. "Go on, then." He said, motioning with his hand for her to continue and took a sip of his tea.
"Draco, I think we need to talk."
He nodded. "Yeah, I gathered that as well."
"Good." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and began tapping her fingers against the side of her mug. "I… erm… You know, I don't actually know… I'm not sure what to say." She stammered.
Great. Perfect. The one time he would love for her to start talking and lead the conversation and she can't put a proper sentence together. Wonderful. Fucking brilliant. "I kissed you last week and you were caught off guard and more than likely disgusted by it. And then I fucked it up even further by… making that sound while you styled my hair. Sound about right?"
She blinked a few times, staring at him with a blank expression on her face before she shook her head. "No… No, I didn't… I wasn't disgusted. I was… surprised."
"Surprised?" He repeated, arching an eyebrow.
"Yes. Surprised." She said, looking anywhere but his face. "I erm… Draco I… I never quite liked you and-
"Oh, well thanks for the vote of confidence. We don't have to talk about this anymore, Granger. I fucked up and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"No, no. Stop. Will you just- just listen to me?" She said, heaving a large breath before finally resting her eyes on his face. "Before sixth year, I didn't like you. I thought you were a spoiled prat who wanted everyone to bow down to you like they did your father. When sixth year rolled around, I noticed you. I noticed that you had stopped making fun of me, you had stopped having regular rows with Harry and Ron. You had stopped talking to everyone! And I got this… I don't know. This peculiar concern for you, that never quite went away."
He felt his face relax and his shoulders drooped down as he sank back into his chair a bit. "Concern?"
She nodded. "Yes. And then at The Manor- at your house… The look on your face… Draco, I know you didn't want to be a part of any of it. I know you wanted to melt into the background and fade away. I could tell. And then you helped us. And-and I don't know… This entire year you've been so different. You've been helpful and involved with things around the school. You've been tutoring third year potions students! McGonagall told me about it… and I-I asked to be put with you for the duration of this lockdown period. To see if my suspicions were correct."
"What suspicions?"
"That you're actually a decent person. Under all that Malfoy money and shite reputation. That you're actually a good person with a kind heart. And when you k-kissed me, I didn't know what to do because I enjoyed it."
He blanched, his eyes widening as he raised his chin up a little higher, looking at her, scanning her face to see if she was lying to him. If she was just telling him this to make it less awkward for him. She was kind like that, she cared about people's feelings in that way. He wouldn't doubt that she would make up some strange attraction toward him to try and help him feel less embarrassed for kissing her.
"You think I'm a good person?" He said, his tone low and full of doubt.
"Yes. Yes, I do."
"And you enjoyed kissing me?"
She nodded slowly; her lips pressed in a flat line. "I did."
Draco's heart beat wildly in his chest. What if she was lying? What if she wanted nothing to do with him? What if she was just trying to be nice, to try and smooth things over for the sake of the lockdown? What if the second the doors were unlocked and it was safe to leave, the last month and a half meant nothing to her and she went back to wandering the halls with Longbottom and Loony and ignoring his existence again?
But what if she didn't.
He lunged forward, launching himself across the table the same way he had before. This time he instantly snaked his hands into her hair and breathed her in. She tasted like the herbal tea they had been drinking and smelled like the coconut and honey product she put in her hair. She cried in shock the moment his lips crashed against hers, but there was no rigid waiting period for her lips to move this time. She quickly pushed her soft lips against his, moving her mouth in tune with his.
He tilted his head, deepening the kiss and her lips parted slightly, allowing his tongue access to the sweet, silky cavern of her mouth. His tongue roamed, caressing hers as he tried to steal the breath from her lungs, to take away her breath the way she did his with every touch she pressed to him.
She sighed into him and he felt a shiver race up his spine as her hands dragged through his hair, gloriously scraping against his scalp as they twisted around the white-blonde locks. He hooked his pinkies under her ears, tugging her head up to pull her out of her seat and closer to him. He leaned back on the table, wrapping his arms around her waist, his hands splaying across her back. Her head fell to the side as he pulled away from her mouth, pressing fervent kisses down her throat and nipping at the spot below her ear.
His mind was reeling, the taste of her skin overwhelming his senses. He took a slow, shaking breath as her hands unraveled from his hair, tracing the lean muscles lining his ribs and rested on his abdomen.
"I just wanted you to see me the way I saw you." He whispered, pressing his lips into her jaw again. "I've always seen you, Hermione. I just wanted you to notice me too."
When he pulled away from her neck she pulled back, her hands still pressed against his stomach, his arms still encircling her. He watched her eyes as they danced around his face before she took his gaze.
"I see you." She whispered. "I see you now, and I'm terrified by it. But I-I can't look away. I don't want to look away anymore."
He studied her, his chest rising and falling in heavy pants, his stomach twisted into knots. She sees me. Slowly, he leaned in again and kissed her. He kissed her with every mistake he ever made, with every terrible thing he ever called her, he kissed her with every jinx or pranking hex he ever sent her way. He kissed her with the weight of his guilt, his absolute loathing of letting her writhe on the floor under his aunt while he stood by and watched. He kissed her with the conviction of someone who needed forgiveness, who needed her forgiveness, in order to breathe.
He walked forward as his lips moved against hers, tongues tying and teeth gnashing. He groaned when she took his bottom lips between her teeth, giving a slight tug before sucking on it gently. Her hands were roaming over his torso, grasping and touching every inch of him that they could. She fell backward onto her bed, bouncing slightly with the springs of the mattress and she giggled softly as he pulled his face away from hers and stared down at her. Lips swollen, wild hair and fiery eyes staring back.
"Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me you don't want this." He said in a husky voice, his breath coming in heavy pants.
He could feel himself growing hard against her thigh, she shifted beneath him, causing him to intake a sharp breath as her leg rubbed against his pajama clad erection. She pulled her knees up, her feet flat on the bed as he settled between them, holding his weight on his forearms as he looked down at her.
"No." She breathed. "No, don't stop."
His lips crashed over hers again, his tongue greedily sweeping past her lips, twisting into her mouth to taste her again. His back tensed as she dragged her nails down his sides, resting at the hem of his shirt. She gripped the thin cotton fabric and pulled it up, forcing him to pull away as she yanked the shirt over his head. His hands slid up her stomach, her soft skin setting his nerve endings on fire. She sat up slightly to pull her shirt over her own head, tossing it to the floor behind him.
She fell backward into the fluffy down blanket and she smiled up at him as he leaned forward, pressing his lips into her neck, collar bone and sternum. Trailing kissed over her breasts and massaging the soft flesh of them with his palms. A soft whine left her throat and he decided right then he had never heard a sound so sweet and he would make sure he heard that sound every single day from now on.
His fingers hooked into the elastic of her cotton pajama bottoms and he pulled his mouth away from her breasts, looking down at her. "Is it okay?"
She nodded. "Yes, yes."
He smiled at her, a real smile. One he had only felt cross his face in the time he'd been locked in this room with her. He leaned in, capturing her lips, slowly this time, taking his time to memorize the ridges and dips of her pillowy pout. His right hand slipped into her knickers, the elastic resting on his wrist.
"Fuck, Hermione. You're so wet for me." He breathed into her mouth, capturing the gasp she made as his fingers traced the folds of her heat. He teased the peak of her, pressing soft circles around it as she moaned into his mouth and bucked her hips up toward his hand. "Eager, are we?"
She pulled her head back and narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't be a prat." She said, only half the usual conviction in her shaking voice.
He gave her a devilish smile before dipping his fingers into her, watching her face as her eyes fluttered shut and her breath caught in her throat. He pressed his lips against her throat again as he whispered "Did you forget who you're talking to? It wouldn't be right if you didn't think I was a prat."
"It's infuriating that you can be such a—oh. Such a prat r-right now… Shit."
He chuckled, moving his fingers inside of her, feeling her clench around him as she panted and gasped beneath him. The flush of her chest creeping up her neck, her nails cutting halfmoons into his shoulders. He removed his hand from her as her head turned to the side again, stifling a low moan into her blankets. She lifted her hips off the bed, helping him to shove her pajamas and knickers down, kicking them off to the floor.
He stared at her again, completely nude under him and wondered what the fuck he could have possibly done to deserve this moment, this sight. This beautiful witch, panting under him as she waited for him to take her.
She sat up, pressing her palm into his length and his breath caught in his chest. She looked up and smirked at him, hooking her fingers into his waistband and pulling it down to free him from the confines of the satin fabric. He watched her hand grasp him, giving a few slow pulls as a growl rumbled in his chest.
He grabbed her hips again, slipping his hands under her rear and pulled her toward the edge of the bed. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he lined himself up with her entrance. He leaned down, taking her lips with his as he pushed into her, sheathing himself to the hilt. "Fuuuck." He hissed, resting his forehead on the front of her shoulder. She wriggled under him, grinding her hips into his, silently pleading for him to set a pace.
He began thrusting his hips, pumping into her, staring at her face as she moaned and cried his name. He couldn't believe it was real. He couldn't believe he was here, living his shower fantasies with the very witch he had them about. His mind was reeling as his body took over, responding to her pleas and cries of "Yes, Draco! Faster! Fuck—please!" Hearing her nonsensical worship of Gods that he didn't believe in, seeing her face screwed up, eyes rolling into her head as she grasped at the blankets, her hair, his shoulder… It sent his heart into overdrive, swelling with the exertion of the thrusts of his hips as hers danced in rhythm with him.
He lowered his head to her chest, pressing soft kisses along her collar bone and listening to her heart beating in the same erratic pattern as his own. He trailed one hand over the flat of her stomach, past her navel and back to her core, swiping over her pearl again. She nearly sobbed as she yelled his name, her heels digging into his lower back and she pulled him further into her.
Finally, he felt her walls pulse and clench around him as she arched her back off the bed, her chest meeting his and her eyes rolling back into her head. Her mouth frozen open in a silent scream of pleasure as he kept his pace, continuously drawing circles around her pearl as she fell over the edge, completely unraveling from beneath him. She opened her eyes, her arms snaking around his back, pulling him down to her as his motions became furious, desperately pounding into her for his own release. He felt her lips land on his throat, giving the tender skin there a light nip and sucking on it and it pushed him off his own mountain. Hurtling forward as his climax consumed his senses. He groaned loud, incoherent strands of swear words mixed with her name as he released into her.
He collapsed, his arms shaking from his weight, onto her chest. She held him there, her legs still wrapped around him, her fingers tracing invisible patterns into his back and lightly grazing his scalp. When he finally collected his breath, he rolled to his side, pulling her close to him and burying his face into her neck, her wild hair surrounding them both.
Hermione sang when she was comfortable.
Draco looked up from the copy of Magical Herbs and Flowers that he had nearly memorized. Hermione was singing again. She was making tea and waiting for a message to come back from Potter. She never really sang anything Draco knew, mostly just made up songs about whatever she was doing. She was terrible at it, if he were being honest. She was practically tone deaf and he was convinced the witch wouldn't be able to carry a tune in a bucket with a lid on it, but she seemed happy when she sang her little songs, so he was happy to listen to them.
It had been two months.
They had been locked together in Classroom 204 for two months, and he wasn't sure he could remember a time before it. He knew that once things settled down with the virus, that they would have to get back to normal eventually. But he enjoyed this time, now. He liked her silly off-key songs, her little dances she did when she ate, the sound of her snores (now only a few inches from him instead of across the room), the way she styled his hair for him every morning and how she knew exactly how he liked his tea.
He particularly liked the way she cried his name.
He didn't want to get back to reality. Sure, he wanted to go to The Manor and check on his mother, that was the first thing on his list once he was able to leave the room again. But he didn't know what leaving the room and the safety of this little bubble they had created meant. With her here, there was nothing to worry about. She chased away his nightmares, she kept him intellectually engaged, she kept him… physically active. Her laugh, her smile, her snores, her stupid little songs… Would those all vanish the moment that door opened? Would he, once again, be alone and unnoticed?
He set his book on the table when the large silvery-blue stag burst through the window. Her entire face lit up, waiting for it to relay the message.
"It's been confirmed as a form of Dragon Pox contracted from the Russian Ringtail. The antidote has been brewed from the blood of the dragon and the testing has been successful. There should be Ministry Officials arriving at Hogwarts later today to give the potion to the sick students. All healthy students should be able to resume regular activity by tomorrow. Write when you can, Ginny says hello."
She turned around and faced him, her eyes lit up and a beaming grin spread across her face. "Tomorrow!" She said, nearly jumping for joy. "Did you hear that?! We can leave tomorrow!"
Draco nodded. "Yeah. That's great." He said, trying to put as much enthusiasm as he could into it.
Her face fell and he instantly felt terrible for stealing that few moments joy from her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"You're lying." She pressed. "Why are you lying to me? What's wrong?"
He stood up from his spot on the couch and ran a hand through his hair. "What happens now? When we leave? Where do we go from here?"
"Well, I expect we'll go back to our house common rooms and start getting our dormitories put back together and then we'll probably have to meet with Headmistress McGonagall to go over what our duties will entail once-
"Granger. That's not what I meant!" He hissed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Not physically. I meant... us. Where do we go?" He waved a hand, motioning furiously between them.
"Oh." She said. "I-I don't know. What did you have in mind?"
He arched an eyebrow at her and stared, bewildered. "What have I got in mind? Granger, I think you know full well you hold all of the cards here."
"That isn't true. You've never explicitly said you want to be together."
"Because fucking you into the mattress isn't explicit enough?"
"For you? No." She said, pursing her lips.
He stared at her in disbelief. Did she not see it? Did she not see that he had been pining after her? That he had always been pining after her?
"Granger… I'm explicitly telling you I want whatever this is, to continue." He said.
Slowly, a smile crept on her face, tugging her features to the side. "Was that so difficult?"
He rolled his eyes. "You make everything exceedingly difficult."
"You're being dramatic. You're the one who makes everything difficult."
He smirked. He thought she knew how much he enjoyed the banter; the last two months had proven that she enjoyed it too. She smiled at him again and took her spot at the table, stirring the tea she made and singing her little off-tune song.
Hermione held his hand.
The stares that had come from the students when she first took his hand as they walked into the Great Hall together after the potion for the Russian Dragon Pox had been administered, had been almost overwhelming. Almost.
The talk of what must have happened between them in the two months they were locked in Classroom 204 together, spread like wildfire. Everyone wanted to know what secrets they had shared, what they did together, what they talked about. No one received those answers. She was amazing at handling the prying eyes and intrusive questions. She spent days assuring him that she didn't mind the stares, the whispers… And truth be told, he didn't mind either.
If Draco's worst nightmare had become his best dream, then whatever this reality was had exceeded it. He turned to face the door of his dormitory and smiled.
Pull on door
Mutter a silencing charm
Look over shoulder, smile at Hermione
Pull on door
Use a locking charm
Look over shoulder, smile at Hermione
Use another locking charm
Look over shoulder, smile at Hermione
It had become an endless cycle since the Lockdown ended and he hoped it remained in place forever.
.
.
a/n: This was born out of a mutual love that honeysweetcutie and I share of Draco and his need for his hair to be played with mixed with the quarentine blues. I hope you enjoyed it! Please review and let me know your thoughts!
xo
Mimi