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February 14th, 1999
Draco Malfoy wasn't used to being ignored, and it was starting to frustrate him more and more. There had been a cold silence between himself and the Head Girl in the last few weeks, their tentative friendship reduced back to curt greetings here and there. He had tried a few times to speak with her, sucking up his pride enough to try and approach her, but he had been stonewalled ever since. It was starting to frustrate him, and he didn't know if it was because he was being ignored, or because he genuinely missed the Gryffindor know-it-all.
His feelings towards the witch had become a distraction as well, and he found himself struggling to focus in the classes that he shared with her, and the space between them was too large, and too small at the same time. Over the years his feelings towards her had changed and fluctuated, from hatred in first year to pure loathing in third year, to what he could only describe as teenage lust in fourth year. He had spent more time than he cared to admit fantasising about her after the Yule Ball that year. Those feelings faded away in fifth year as he grew closer to Pansy, and by sixth year he had disregarded the witch completely, consumed with trying to survive as his father sold him to a mad man he didn't actually believe in.
He had been shocked during his trial when she stood to defend him, her testimony a huge part in his exoneration. Malfoy never expected to get the opportunity to thank her, until McGonagall delivered a letter to his doorstep, welcoming him back to Hogwarts. Even that had set him on edge though, knowing that Granger would have been the recipient of the Head Girl badge. Just because she had testified that he didn't do anything to harm her when she was at the Manor, that didn't mean she didn't blame him for what happened. Her civility when they were housed together had taken him off guard, but it was enough to encourage him to try to reach out. He didn't expect that he would ever end up developing actual feelings for her, but here he was, and it was frustrating the hell out of him.
Grunting as a glimmer of gold flashed by his head, he turned his body, broom moving under him with ease as he took chase after the snitch, trying to forget the conflicting feelings embroiled within him through the one thing he had always worked hard to prove he was worth.
Hermione checked herself out in the mirror again, twisting and turning her body from side to side as she tried to make sure that everything looked perfect. Ron had actually suggested going out together for Valentine's Day, and whilst she wasn't really the kind of girl to be interested in or all caught up in a market holiday – besides that brief fascination with Gilderoy Lockhart in second year – but it wasn't every day that Ron actually suggested doing something, and she could tell that he was making an effort, and that was something. It was more than something, actually. In all the years she'd known him, this was the first time that she'd witnessed him actually try.
She had been quite icy with him since Christmas, and that coolness had extended to Malfoy after the library incident. She felt a little bad some days for freezing both men, but at the same time she also felt like it was completely justified. She was still pissed at Ron for raising a hand to her, and pissed at Malfoy for responding in kind with violence against Ron. She couldn't deny that a small part of her was pleased that Malfoy had defended her though, the action not something that she had ever though someone would do for her. Sure, she had her boys, but they were a bit clueless most of the time.
A thundering knock on the bathroom door startled her back to reality, and Hermione yanked it open, a blush rising on her cheek. She had been locked in there for hours, and hadn't even considered the other user of the facilities until the knock.
"I'm done," Hermione kept her tone cool, but she couldn't help but bite her lip as she took in the from in front of her.
Malfoy's chest was rising and falling, an emerald t-shirt snugly fitting his torso, highlighting the fact that he was quite well built and more than a little bit muscular. Years of quidditch and God knows what else had paid off for him. Dragging her eyes up from his chest, Hermione took in his face, the Slytherin's cheeks flushed as well, though it was more with exertion from his morning on the pitch as opposed to the fluster that always overtook her. His hair was dishevelled and a little damp, and she found herself aching to reach up to run her fingers through it. She wasn't usually a fan of anything sweaty but here she was, overcome by the urge to touch him, feel him, taste him. The blush deepened as she realised that taste had suddenly come up, her mind flicking between tasting his lips against hers again, or licking along other parts of him, her eyes dropping down to his waist.
Catching herself again, Hermione quickly pushed past the solid man, his body barely moving as she knocked into him, needing to get out before she was late. Her escape was stopped when a hand wrapped around her wrist, causing her to pause as the blonde turned towards her.
"Granger," his voice was hoarse, almost as if he had barely spoken for days – and it was true. Beyond answering a few questions in class, and barking orders to the prefects, he hadn't spoken a word to anyone.
"Malfoy, I have a date. Let go, I'm going to be late," Hermione tugged at her wrist. He wasn't hurting her by any means, but the longer his skin touched hers, the more her heart started to race, and the more she started to question her emotions. The things she felt around Draco Malfoy were all the things that she wished she'd felt around Ron – the tingles, the sparks, the butterflies and electricity behind every touch, the passion in every word and interaction, the excitement and thrill. All those things that she had grown up associating with relationships and matters of the heart, things that she just expected to feel with Ron. All she ever got around the lanky redhead was comfort and occasional bursts of irritation, things that she associated more with… a sibling love, something that she felt with Harry as well. She hoped that it would change and felt almost obliged to let things play out. Ron felt something for her, and it was like they'd been expected to get together after the war, for the happy ending to play out.
"You're better than him, Granger," Malfoy's words were blunt, but he was tired of all the dancing around that had been going on, the avoidance and tension every time they were in the same space. His head was clearer after the morning spent training, the new bruises he gained from the bludgers that he'd set free helping him work out a lot of his frustration, leaving only determination to sort things out, and as far as he was concerned, the Gryffindor witch was worth more than the Weasel. He didn't think he was what she deserved either, but he figured it was at least worth a try to figure out what the fuck was going on between them.
"Malfoy…" Hermione's voice was soft, her eyes softening at his words.
"I'm serious, Granger," Malfoy met her chocolate orbs with his own grey gaze, stepping closer until his body was pressed against hers. She didn't flinch or back away, and he took that as his cue, hand releasing her wrist to instead dance his fingers up her arm, nudging the sleeve of her blouse up further to brush over the bold phoenix inked on her skin, covering the raised ridges. His touch was gentle, though his look was piercing, trying to see through to her soul, trying to make her believe his words, his intentions.
"Draco…" she had dropped to a whisper. Part of her knew that she should pull away, that Ron was waiting for her, but the currently louder part of her wanted to stay, to see where things went. Her body was reacting to him in ways that she'd never experienced with her long term friend, her nerve endings all on fire as she felt him everywhere, and then he was against her, his wind chapped lips pressing against hers, the kiss not deep, but not chaste either.
The pair stood together, locked in an embrace. Her arms wrapped around him, one hand finally coming up to tangle in his hair, fingers brushing through the damp locks, not caring at all about the sweat. He had grown his hair out a bit this year and let the slicked back look go, and she loved the feel of his soft platinum strands, a contrast to the scratch of his stubble against her cheek as their heads moved, lips parting and tongues coming out to duel. It was nothing like the tentative, mostly sloppy kisses she shared with Ron, instead there was a passion and firmness from both, complimenting each other and driving the heat she felt pooling in her core.
"… there, Hermione?" Ginny Weasley's voice floated through the closed portrait, and both young adults became aware of the knocking they'd been tuning out. Breaking the kiss, both breathed heavily but didn't pull away, eyes searching and trying to find answers. Hermione blushed as Malfoy shifted and she felt something hard against her, not sure if she was grateful or disappointed that their height difference meant it pressed at her lower abdomen, just a few inches above the heat she thought had to be radiating from between her thighs. Releasing her grip on his hair, she quickly stepped back, tugging at her blouse to straighten it, eyes flicking to the portrait, knowing Ginny was waiting to walk to Hogsmede with her, Harry and Ron both waiting in the village for them.
"I… shit, I need to go," Hermione stumbled over her words a bit, stepping back away from Malfoy.
"We're not done here, Granger," Malfoy's chest was heaving again as he tried to catch his breath, his tongue flicking out to run over his bottom lip as he checked out the petite witch. She didn't give him a verbal response, just nodded a few times before stumbling towards the portrait, disappearing from his sight.
Hermione cast a longing glance over her shoulder before the portrait closed, her head turning to try and listen to Ginny as the younger witch looped their arms together, giving a few nods and answers here and there, trying to act completely normal to her best female friend, a bubble of guilt forming in her chest as she remembered that she was meant to be on a date with the other woman's brother, and she was starting to wonder if happy endings were all they're cracked up to be.