After Midnight part one
Chapter three
"What the hell are you doing?!" hissed a breathless Hermione.
Draco decided it best to ignore her and focus instead on listening for Filch's telltale shuffling wheezing, but Hermione was not done.
"How dare you! Let go of me right now!" She whispered angrily, and Draco became suddenly aware that he was still firmly holding her slim wrist. What was more, in his hurry to ensure they were both concealed behind the tapestry, he had not noticed how he had pressed his body against her, pinning her to the cold wall behind.
He quickly let go, as though burnt, and shuffled as far away from her radiating warmth as he dared.
"Be quiet! Do you want to get caught?"
Hermione appeared to calm as his hand released her, but still looked as though she might argue.
She was so annoying, he thought. As if he wanted to be crammed into this tiny alcove, barely big enough for one, with her of all people. And his nose still hurt.
That last thing he needed right now was another detention. Not with summer approaching so quickly.
"What did you find my sweet?" came a distant, familiar croak. "Was it that Peeves again?"
Draco hurried to put a hand over Hermione's mouth. She started at the sudden contact but did not protest, though her dark eyes seethed with indignation.
Her lips felt soft and full against his palm, her warm breath coming out in angry little puffs. He held her gaze with his own, placing a slim pale finger over his lips.
"Is he in the transfiguration room again?" wheezed Filch, drawing closer.
Why can't he just bugger off somewhere else, he thought, wishing desperately to be in bed. He had so much to do tomorrow.
He slowly withdrew his hand from her lips, sure now that she wouldn't start complaining with Filch so close. She was annoying but not stupid.
She wriggled uncomfortably, trying perhaps to push some more space between them, her hair even more wild than usual and catching on the rough stone. He remembered how sleek and smooth she had made it for the Yule ball, all the way back in their fourth year. He had noticed of course. Everyone had noticed the mud-blood dancing with Viktor Krum. He reflected that he liked her hair better like this. More natural.
He could smell something sweet, maybe honey, coming from her unruly, dark curls.
Hermione's breath hitched as the sound of a heavy door being unlatched cut through the silence. He should probably step a bit closer, in case Filch decided to walk right by.
Hermione gasped slightly as Draco's body stepped back into contact with her own. She was incredibly warm in the night air. The castle was always cold at night, even in the June heat.
His eyes met hers again, and in them found the most peculiar searching look, and although she looked quickly away he suddenly found himself feeling quite self conscious under her gaze. He swallowed nervously, feeling quite warm himself now.
She was looking very uncomfortable, he noticed. She looked as though she hadn't slept for days. Probably been in the library all hours, he thought, remembering that exams would be happening next week. He'd forgotten.
She's too clever for her own good, he thought. Probably wants to be caught even less than I do. I wonder if she's ever got a detention before?
The rings under her eyes looked almost as bad as his must, and her golden skin had a strange, blanched quality.
The shuffling footsteps were right on the other side of the heavy cloth now. Hermione closed her eyes and raised a small shaking hand to his chest, her fingers clutching anxiously onto the rumpled fabric of his shirt.
He looked down in surprise and felt the strangest urge to take her dark hand in his...