Chapter Sixteen

Over the Edge

August 26, 2001

I wake up to a loud banging on my door. I search blindly for my wand in the darkness, casting Lumos when I find it. When I turn to look at the clock on the bedside table, I groan at the time — 2 AM. I barely had an hour to sleep.

Last night I finally let my mind wander off to that job offer in Hogwarts. I've made pros and cons but even before I wrote them, I knew what I had to do. Last week I wrote a letter to Professor McGonagall, politely and regretfully declining the job. Because as much as I want to take it, I don't like to leave things unfinished. So I spent most of the night fantasizing about teaching young minds, imagining the power I would have had to influence promising wizards and witches what to do with the gift they were given. It was kind of masochistic of me.

The pounding doesn't stop. Someone seems to be shouting through the door. I'm so sleepy, not to mention, irritated that I have to drag my feet outside.

"Granger," a slurred voice calls when I reach the living room.

I suppress a second groan when it registers to me who it is. At this rate, he's going to wake all the neighbors up. I open the door quite violently, stopping Malfoy midway from knocking. When he sees me, he flashes a big goofy smile. His teeth are perfect. His face is quite flushed and his hair is ruffled. I don't seem to ever get used to this new image of him. I'm so stunned I almost forgive him for waking me up at this ungodly hour. But instead, I cross my arms across my chest and give him a dead stare.

"You're drunk," I say, leaning against the door frame.

"I'm not. Just had a drink… or two," he explains with a chuckle, "Can I come in?"

I'm thinking he should go home but he might just flinch himself.

"Fine," I huff.

As he makes his way inside, I cast a Muffling Charm before I start berating him about coming here drunk and disturbing me in my sleep. ("Do you have any idea what time it is!")

"You should… blame Potter and Weasley," he says collapsing on the sofa.

I walk to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. This should do for now since I ran out of hung-over potion, thinking I wouldn't need it. Apparently I was wrong.

"You should know better than to entertain those boys," I tell him. I sink down on the sofa beside him and hand him the glass. "Drink."

He smirks and drawls, "You are so bossy."

I roll my eyes at him.

"I like it when you're bossy," he adds candidly, taking a swig at the glass of water, emptying it in a two gulps.

I take it's the alcohol talking.

"Why are you here anyway?" I say as I get the glass from him before he drops it accidentally.

He goes on about how he was at a pub with the boys including Neville, Seamus, Dean (the "old Gryffindor gang" he calls them) and George. They were out celebrating Harry's engagement which basically consisted of drinking and goofing around.

"…Potter and Weasley were… asking me these q-questions — "

I can't seem to concentrate on his words then. He seems so serious about what he's saying but I'm too distracted by how unguarded he looks right now — his cheeks tinged with the slightest color of pink and his hair in a mess… My eyes dart down to his lips, still moving as he continues to speak. They're so —

"What are you thinking Granger?" Malfoy's words pull me out of my reverie. For some reason, he suddenly looks sober.

"N-nothing," I stammer. I hear Ginny's words repeatedly in my head ("You're playing a dangerous game here"). I move to stand up but Malfoy catches my hand to stop me. I look at him and he searches my eyes for something. I absently wet my lips. He follows the movement with extreme attention. Slowly, Malfoy starts leaning in. All I hear, see and feel is him, his ragged breaths, his face, his fingers lightly caressing my shoulder up to my neck. When he comes too close, my eyes flutter shut. Just then, I remember to breathe and I inhale the musk scent of his cologne mixed with the smell of vodka on his breath. I part my lips a little.

The kiss is uncertain at first, as if Malfoy's waiting for me to push him away and slap him. When I don't do both, it's all the confirmation he needs. He takes my open mouth with his while his hands run feverishly down my body. I fervently return the favor, raking my fingers through his fine fair. His hand slips under my tank top and I gasp.

"Fuck," he whispers and hurriedly scrambles to his feet.

"I'm sorry. I-I should go," he says. I'm too stunned from what happened that I don't look up nor answer. I only hear his footsteps followed by the door closing behind him. My mouth still tingles and my heart pounds almost painfully against my chest. It isn't after a while that I hear the familiar pop of Disapparition.

xxx

September 14, 2001

Three weeks. I've been trying hard to avoid Malfoy for three weeks. When he left me that night, all I wanted was to curl up and pretend nothing happened. I didn't want to assess what I felt because that would mean that I'd have to admit some unresolved emotions. And admitting it to myself would only make said emotions more real. So —

"Hermione! Were you listening to me?" Ron's voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

"No, I'm sorry Ron. What did you say?"

We're getting out of a coffee shop right across the toilet entrance to the Ministry. It's after lunch and a number of people are already in line.

"I was asking if it's okay if you could stop by later to get the files? I kind of spoke back to Tom so he's decided to torture me by dumping a lot of paperwork on me this morning," he explains.

I say okay just before I stand behind a woman who I reckon works at the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Ron's already lining up behind men in large cloaks which are earning dirty looks from some of the Muggles passing by. Then I realize belatedly the situation I had gotten myself into. Walking into the Aurors' Department and stopping by Ron's cubicle would mean seeing Malfoy in his. Crap.

By the time Ron and I are in the lifts, someone calls out to hold it for him. With the tall men in front of me, I can only make out the top of his head — blond hair. I'm already panicking when his face comes into view. It's just Pete Cresswell from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Other than the hair, which isn't even the same white blond, he looks nothing like Malfoy. He has a big round nose and body almost as large as Hagrid. Merlin, I'm being paranoid, seeing Malfoy everywhere when I don't even want to. In fact, he might even be avoiding me right now.

August 27, 2001

I'm reading the case on the wizard who cast an Imperius Curse on a Muggle when Malfoy comes in my office.

"Granger," he says in that naturally Malfoy voice of his.

I tense up and pretend to be really busy, trying to ignore how much I like him calling me 'Granger' all the time. Withoutlooking up I say, "What's up?"

He doesn't answer right away, like he's considering his next words carefully. "About the other night…"

"Forget it," I say quickly, finally raising my head, "It was clearly a mistake, you were drunk and I guess I got caught up in the moment. So it's probably best we pretend it didn't happen." I'm surprised at how easily the lies roll of my tongue. I even manage a smile before getting back to pretending to read the paper in front of me — 'Friday afternoon, August 24, 2001, Hans Prouse, age 42, was captured…' — not understanding a single word.

He stands at my door for a few more seconds before he mutters an okay and leaves.

After that, he made several attempts of inviting me to lunch. I declined every time, saying I had a lot on my plate. He must have gotten the message because I haven't heard from him all week. I should be glad but I'm not.

xxx

I take a glimpse at the clock above my door. It says 2:30. I'm done reviewing all the cases scheduled on Monday and even Tuesday next week. I can't postpone going to Ron's anymore. I stand up, thinking I should just get over it now rather than later.

Before entering, I take a deep breath. The Aurors' Department is lined with several tables and chairs. The place is almost empty since most of them are probably out on field work. I silently hope Malfoy's on duty too. Steve Rooney, an Auror I know from a previous case greets me as I pass by. I walk three tables down and another four to the right before I reach Ron's corner. Sure enough, his desk is covered with papers along with chocolate frogs and candy wrappers strewn all over. I clean them up for him.

Ron notices, looks up and says, "Oh, thanks 'Mione." Then he mumbles, "The files… Wait, I know they're here somewhere…" He flips through folders including the ones stacked on the floor. "Bloody Tom, bloody hate paperwork…"

"Hey, where's Malfoy?" I say casually, taking note of Malfoy's empty desk.

"Owled this morning. Says he has a flu… Aha!" He pulls out a thick folder from a pile, swivels in his chair and put it on top of the desk. He's smiling triumphantly.

"Thanks Ron. Is this everything?"

"Wait," he says, checking the folder's contents rather slowly before adding, "Right. Everything seems to be all here."

"Okay, I'll see you Monday? I have to hurry back if I want to finish reviewing this before I get home," I say, taking the folder and walking out before Ron could say another word.

I quickly grab my things back at the office, tap my foot as I wait for the lifts and almost run as soon as I get to the Atrium. When I'm finally out of the Ministry, I find a deserted alley and Disapparate as I picture the Malfoy Manor, all the while thinking how I must really like Draco Malfoy.

A/N: I felt it was time they slipped up. So yeah. Please tell me what you guys think about this chapter especially with the kiss. I wasn't sure if you felt the build up to it. It would be a great help for me to improve in the future.

Also, I'm writing another Dramione fic with a different genre from this one. It's called "Ten Years Ago". So if you have time, you can check it out! x soraya x