"Malfoy-" Hermione backed away to put more than two feet between them but only ended up pressed against the windowsill. She got to her feet instead and left the book on the soft cushion of the bay window seat.
She saw him fully as the sun bathed him in light. He wasn't in his regular rich attire. Instead, he wore a soft grey turtleneck, the sleeves rolled up almost to his elbows, exposing his forearm. She could see the shadow of the Dark Mark on his skin, like a stain. She wouldn't have noticed it if she didn't already know it was there. He was wearing what Hermione could have sworn was muggle jeans. She didn't stare at them and instead refocused on his eyes, and why he was here.
She was suddenly aware how effortless he appeared, and how stained her clothing must be from having promptly left the potions room at Grimmauld Place to going to the market then coming to Diagon Alley.
"How are you?" Malfoy said in a hurry, then his eyes flitted away from her and back again, his hands flew behind his back as he stood rigid. She had barely muttered out 'fine' before he inhaled as though about to jump into freezing water.
"Granger- Hermione- I've tried. If I could have kept this to myself, I'd much rather have carried it to my grave." Malfoy swallowed thickly, his eyes finally settling on her the longer he spoke. She almost stumbled at the sound of her given name coming from his mouth, and the urgency in whatever it was he wanted to say had piqued her curiosity. Feelings about what?
"It's been a struggle… for some time now," he paused, as though waiting to be interrupted. But Hermione was finally understanding where he was going. His Adam's apple bobbed slowly, then continued. "I can't repress the way I feel. The past few months have been anguishing. I came to Slughorn's Party as Blaise's 'plus one' for one purpose; to see you."
Hermione stared. She felt heat rise in her cheeks as Malfoy's face pinkened, his ears a deep magenta. When she said nothing, he continued again, as though unable to stop himself and now that he had this window, he was going to take it.
"Against my better judgement, I need to tell you. Despite what might happen. I have considered our history, my family's expectations, my stupid blood-status. I know what you must think of me.
"I have put those thoughts aside and I ask you to end my agony."
"I- Malfoy, what-?" Hermione was overwhelmed by confusion. "What about Pansy? What- what are you talking about?" She looked around, glancing at the shelves as though someone would be peering between the books at them, laughing. Then she looked over his shoulder, and she found them utterly alone. She found his grey eyes, warmth spreading through them as he gazed at her. "I don't understand."
"I love you." The words tumbled out of his mouth and he pressed his lips together as though trying for no more to escape. Hermione could only stare. When she said nothing, he fidgeted a little before he held her gaze and said sincerely. "Most ardently. Please, would you honour me by-" Hermione opened her mouth to protest, because he was surely not about to propose. "-going out with me?"
"Malfoy…" Hermione thought that his surname sounded incredibly impersonal after what she had just heard. "Draco-" that sounded somehow worse, she swallowed. Her face was on fire and she was too hot all over. "I had no idea. I don't understand why, either. I thought you hated me? I realise what you have struggled with, I was unaware I was causing you pain."
She stared at him, his cheeks still rosy and his mouth in a hard line. He waited a moment and when Hermione made no action to continue speaking, he took a half step toward her. It didn't feel like a threat, but like an attempt to get closer to her. He still stood rigidly and even as he glowered, he was beautiful. The light from the window was casting its warm glow and the dust swirled in the silence around them. It was an odd contrast. Hermione thought he was intimidating, but she was never scared of him in the past, and was even less so now. Even as he drew to his full height and hurt was overtaken by anger.
"Is this your answer, then?"
There was no doubt he was angry. The timbre in his voice shocked Hermione but she stared defiantly up at him. "Yes."
"Are you going to make fun of me?"
"No." Hermione couldn't bring herself to say either of his names again and instead allowed him to approach her, though she was now fully cornered against the window, the back of her legs pressing against the soft cushion of the bay window. She shifted so that half of her back pressed against the wall, steadying her.
"Is this a rejection?" He looked down now at her, and she felt all his emotion in waves fold off his body and wrapped around her. His magic was powerful, radiating off him so that she felt her skin prickle as though static pulled at the ends of her hairs. She resisted the urge to smooth her arms over to rid herself of the sensation.
She craned her neck instead, clenched her fists as she squared her shoulders. All his words bounced around in her head and she remembered, she hated him. He was Malfoy. He used to be a Death Eater. He never apologised for who he was. And he was telling her all the reasons he had to not to confess to her.
"I'm sure all the points you've so courteously listed will help you to get over it." Hermione said, aware that nothing of what he said had anything to do about how he felt about her but how against his very nature he was being.
"Why are you being so coarse about it? Do you hate me that much?"
Hermione scoffed. She hadn't, not really. She disliked Malfoy because of their history, sure. She found him pompous and someone who was all too happy to fall back into his pure-blood status. She was annoyed to be around him so often when he so clearly disliked being around her and her friends. But she hadn't hated him. Until she found out it was him that separated Ginny and Zabini. And she remembered Teddy and his reasons for hating Malfoy.
"I might ask you why you chose to list things as to why you liked me against your better judgement. If I'm rude, then there's one reason.
"Besides that, you know I have other reasons."
Hermione's chest was heaving now. The full situation of his question, his confession was finally wrapping around her in fury, she could feel his angry breath on her cheeks, as she was sure he could feel hers. They were too close, he was too close. Her wand must be sparking in her pocket, there was a vague singed smell.
Malfoy half stepped back, like a stumble. He looked confused. "What other reasons?"
"Do you think I would want to be with the man who has ruined the happiness of my best friend?"
Malfoy stared blankly at her, no longer confused, but resolute and stone still. She could see his hands had flexed into fists and his jaw tensed.
"You're not denying it. You kept them apart, took away a chance at a genuine match, a match that would have brought them both happiness. Instead, you've hurt your best mate, crushed their hopes and gifted them both the worst kind of misery."
"I'm not denying it."
Hermione wanted to jab her wand into his chest but with the way it flared and her magic cackled to the edges of her hair, she would hurt him, and most importantly, might damage the books. Malfoy didn't even look apologetic. Hermione felt pain on behalf of Ginny, tightening her chest.
"Why did you do it?"
"I-" Malfoy hesitated, looking away from her for a moment. "It looked like Ginny was less affectionate. I thought she may have had a stronger attachment with- with someone else." He looked at her again, his mouth swollen now from how hard he had been pressing his lips together.
"So what if she had?" Hermione rose to her full height, straightening her spine for what felt like the third time, which was still about five inches shorter than Malfoy. "She's been with Harry for years! Obviously there would be lingering feelings, you idiot. But she liked Zabini! You certainly have lingering feelings for Pansy, which obviously haven't burnt out over the years."
Malfoy ignored the latter half of her accusation. "Zabini was persuaded that her attachment to- Potter- was strong enough that he should let her go."
"Because you proposed it in the first place!" Hermione retorted. She was aware now that her voice was rising. And that she was in the library. She hoped the silencing spells went beyond the dull murmur of conversation and drowned her slowly elevating volume.
"I was looking out for my friend." Malfoy furrowed his brow, the corners of his mouth twisting with downward.
"Ginny hardly ever opens up to me, let alone someone she was trying to get to know! I suppose you didn't want a Weasley to waste Zabini's good status?" Hermione didn't know why she was pushing this so far. She felt her words sting, then realised that she was aiming to wound him. He needed to hurt because he hurt her friend. He was being ridiculous.
Hermione knew it was a low blow, but her fury with Malfoy had risen to a boil and the distance between them was hot and thick, filled with both their mounting distaste.
"Oh, please. It would always be suggested that she would use his status to raise her family's own." There was a foot of space between them, an improvement as she could no longer feel his heaving breaths on her skin.
"By whom?"
"By anyone who knew the Weasley's financial status. Which is to say everyone." Malfoy eyed her fists which had gone white from the force of clenching them. Hermione hoped he was remembering her slap. She wouldn't lose herself and do that again, but she hoped the threat of it made him wary.
"They don't need that help! They are a well respected pure-blood family."
"Without fortune," Malfoy said it slowly, as though exercising his own patience, "-as everyone in the Wizarding world knows well enough."
"And did Ginny ever say anything about the money? About the way he lived and how much she looked forward to draining his pockets dry?" She asked sweetly, because it was ridiculous. Money was all everyone talked about, but never Ginny. Never the Weasleys, in fact. They had lived the way they had for as long as they had without wanting for anything.
"No, no Ginny never was like that." Malfoy spoke the words to her feet and Hermione scoffed in satisfaction, because she already knew that.
"Then what was it that added to your doubts? What else did you tell yourself to convince yourself that she just wasn't good enough for Zabini? Her need for higher connections?"
Hermione knew none of this mattered. Because the damage was done, and Ginny was now free to be with Harry. If Harry even knew , or if Ginny even wanted to try again. Malfoy was playing with everyone's feelings from behind the scenes like a puppet master, and like a puppet master, he expected no one to have feelings.
"It was more than that."
Hermione almost fell back into the bay window seat.
"I don't understand, shouldn't she be the only thing that mattered?" Hermione had gone through a cycle of emotion she would have to untangle later. She was back from being angry, to being hurt all over again.
"The Weasley's were all various versions of disrespectful. Never showing up, always inappropriate, a dragon smuggler? The werewolf, he can't be helped, but he never tries to show up in public with his wife, either!" He sighed. "We're all being forced to put on a show, and for some reason, the rules don't apply to them."
"And so what of me and Harry. Does her acquaintance with us mean nothing?" Hermione felt her legs go weak from her over exertion of emotion. She wanted to slap him and nap at the same time. She was glad for the wall behind her.
"I have to excuse you both from that." Malfoy dragged his hand through his hair, undoing it from its carefully combed placement. Strands fell loosely onto his forehead and this made him look better, albeit dishevelled. He was looking at Hermione with pain in his eyes, anger no longer masking it. "Ginny as well, she's always a joy to be around."
Hermione felt the truth of his words, but her venom for him had seethed forward beyond her control, fueled by the hurt she knew she was inflicting now.
"And what about Teddy?" she said through her teeth. "What about Theodore Nott?"
"Ah, he must be why you've turned me down." His eyes went cold as he surveyed her and he felt imposing in the small space that the aisle had become. "You're quite popular. Seems like you've taken a keen interest in him, as well."
"He told me what you did to him." Hermione could only think of how many lives the Malfoys had collectively ruined.
"Oh, I'm sure he has." Malfoy's venom surpassed Hermione's own and she felt her conviction wane.
"You ruined his life. And you're self righteous enough to be sarcastic about it?"
"Is this what you think of me?" Malfoy stepped into her, her back made contact now with the wall as she was half against it and half backed into the bay window seat. "Thank you, for painting such a vivid picture. Perhaps, these offences might have been ignored if your pride hadn't been wounded by the lack of your desired confession. Am I not to be realistic about what would have stopped me approaching you?"
"And those are the words of a Pureblood? Your ego, narcissism, even your condescension for the way others feel has solidified in my mind that you would be that last man on earth that I would ever agree to date ."
Mafloy's sweater was almost brushing against her jacket lapels now, the space between them a mere few inches. She was inhaling the full scent of him, fury flowing through her while simultaneously encompassed in the smells that filled her with comfort. He bowed his head, as though to rest onto her shoulder. It was miniscule and very quick, then he pulled away, backstepping. His eyebrows were pinched in pain. They stared at each other, flushed.
The air between them crackled with their magic. Confusion swept over Hermione as she saw various emotions flit across his face.
"Forgive me. I've taken up too much of your time."
He looked at her, as though for the last time; the way someone gazed at paintings in galleries before having to leave as the venue closed.
And the quietness of the library now roared back into her ears as he stepped away. Her chest heaved as the conversation replayed in her mind. He had confessed. He loved her. Draco Malfoy. He certainly had separated Ginny, he didn't even deny what he had done to Teddy.
Her knees weakened finally and she grasped at the abandoned book feeling her pulse against the cover as her blood throbbed even to her fingertips. And in the confusion of it all, tears began to trickle down her face.
When Harry found her there an hour later, she made sure nothing was amiss. She was grateful too, for not seeing Teddy in the library where she had actually hoped to run into him; she was afraid she would burst back into tears.
She wouldn't dare tell a soul about what happened. Worry warped through her as she remembered forgetting about Rita Skeeter, and she hoped with every fibre of her being that not a soul had overheard their conversation.
Hermione did notice that Harry kept his eye on her as they returned to Grimmauld Place, but he settled for a gentle squeeze of her shoulder. Hermione knew he would always be there to support her, and that comforted her enough.