Consider this my first gift for you (one of many too come, I hope) :3
Thank-you for the support. It makes my day, especially right now since I'm so full of uni work, ugh.
Year 1996, February
The Library
Books are an excellent company. Whenever you feel lonely, one of the best things you can do is sit down and read a book. A book can take you places you have never been to and make you see things you have never seen. A book offers you a refuge when you just want somewhere to escape. A book can give you advice, it can make you laugh and it can even touch you with its words.
A book can be a loyal friend, who never gets you down, unless the story is pretty darn awful and you are currently dateless on Valentine's Day and all you can see is your solitary future, surrounded by cats and more dusty old books and no one to hold and caress and love and –
Hermione groaned again.
Yes, books, the solution to everything.
Not likely.
Her mind had drifted away during one pretty boring paragraph on the possible effects of Death-Cap Draught, which were mainly unknown and unaccounted for, so this book wasn't giving her much to start with, other from the fact that it said it could be a poison of sorts. Great.
She had no idea of the time, but she supposed it was late. It felt that way. After dinner, she came straight to the library to do some more research and to study some more for her O.W.L.s. They were less than four months away and she felt like she still needed to get so much work done, especially for Potions Class. Snape was not making it easy. If anything, he was making it incredibly harder, even for her.
Of course, Harry and Ron decided not to accompany her, too busy sulking themselves for one more dateless Valentine's Day. There should be some kind of rule for this day. It shouldn't be allowed to date other people and couples had to spend it apart, like some kind of test to their true intentions and devotion.
There shouldn't be a Valentine's Day altogether, period. Every time she walked passed those lovesick couples she would just go "Eww". And currently, this book was making her go "Eww" as well.
Hermione sighed, feeling drowsy and tired, her body insisting on her calling it a night. But she had to finish this damn Potions essay, due tomorrow. And yes, who would've figured, Hermione Granger, finishing an essay the night before turn in, but lately she had been with so much work with her O.W.L.s and the Order and D.A. meetings. Also, Umbridge kept breathing down their necks, surveying their every move. And on top of all that, here she was, spending Valentine's Day alone, in the Library. Lucky for her, McGonagall conceded in giving her an after-hours pass, so she could study late into the night. Which is exactly was she was trying to do if she wasn't distracted by the fact that she was, once again, the dateless monster.
The fact that Ron and Harry were kind of dateless did little to nothing in cheering her up, since that only made the three of them look more pathetic. And she knew, she knew she shouldn't care about this. She had bigger things to worry about. And she had more important things to deal with other than boys and romance. She knew she had no time for these ludicrous thoughts, but she couldn't help feeling a little down. Which was silly, really. She was more than used to spending this day alone. Viktor was the exception last year and she thought that maybe, she got a little accustomed to having someone special on this day. Or not. Sigh.
Her head fell forward to the book resting on the table. She felt pretty foolish. Hermione, come on! You have an essay due tomorrow, D.A. meetings to prepare, O.W.L.s to study for, the fate of the Wizard World to care about and here you are, thinking about boys. Get a grip. Focus.
"That is an interesting way of reading, Granger. Are you trying to absorb the information through that filthy skin of yours?"
Great. Just her luck.
Hermione didn't even bother to look up from her book as she replied "What do you want, Malfoy?"
"I can't seem to hear you properly when all that brown mess you call a hair is all over your head."
She grumbled something he couldn't understand and looked up to glare at him. He was by her table, chin high, a book in his hand. His smirk was lacking, his expression serious. Strands of his hair were falling from his sleek gel and his tie was untied, shirt untucked. The tiny silver "I" shone on his robes, alerting everyone that he was a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, but he looked somewhat tired as well and she had no idea what he could possibly be doing in the library at his hour. Or why he was even talking to her, but she suspected he was here to do his job as a proud member of that dreadful squad, Umbridge decided to institute.
"Are you here to give me detention, Malfoy? My shirt isn't untucked, unlike you." She said, remembering that he had docked points from Ron with that exact same motive.
"No, Granger. I'm not here to bring you to justice." He retorted, putting his own book on her table, which confused her "And if I was, you know the main reason I would dock points from you was becau –"
"Then what do you want, Malfoy?" she interrupted, knowing perfectly well what he was going to say, but too drained to hear it.
"Well, I…" he seemed to stumble with the words, looking down at his feet.
Well this was new. Draco Malfoy nervous in her presence? Had she fallen asleep? Was this the start of a horrible nightmare? She thought about pinching herself to make sure, but was too busy feeling astonished to even move her hands. Her eyebrows lowered in confusion, when he just kept looking down and stuttering. What the hell was going on?
"Well, Granger, truth is I…"
Merlin, this was hard. He was making a bloody fool out of himself and Draco Malfoy was no fool. He was anything but. It had taken him a lot to even admit this to himself, to even take up the courage to approach her in the first place, but after long days of debate he had reached the shocking conclusion that he needed to do this.
This was it.
This was the moment.
He couldn't wait any longer and he had waited long enough.
It was one of the hardest things he ever had to do, but it had to be done. He had to remind himself, however, that this proved nothing. This meant nothing. She was still a filthy, little Mudblood and he was still the son of Lucius Malfoy, a Pureblood and Slytherin. This did not prove that she was in any way better than him, or that he was in any way lower than her. No. This was him being the higher being and making use of his resources, taking that to his advantage. This was him being brave and admitting to a fault, a defect in the system; an imperfection if one may. Yes, that was exactly what this was. An imperfection. And he could live with that.
"Spit it out, Malfoy. I don't have all night."
Well make this even harder, why don't you?
He scowled, but that actually made him regain his composure "Truth is, Granger, I need your help."
An uncomfortable silence had descended and the room went quiet, even more, if possible. The library was usually a very quiet place, especially at night, but right now, you could actually hear a pin drop.
Hermione kept looking up at him, not sure if she had heard correctly but the seriousness of his expression gave her little to no doubt. Help? He was asking for help? Draco Malfoy was asking HER for help? You do realise who I am, don't you Malfoy? I'm Hermione Granger, I'm best-friends with Harry Potter, a Gryffindor and I'm a Muggleborn, a fact which you more than despise. Also, I punched you almost two years ago and I recently slapped you, in the Great Hall, in front of everyone. Are you sure about this?
Ok, this had to be a dream, a nightmare, whatever, but she had to be asleep. She had to.
"You… what?" she asked, still not totally recovered from the shock.
Well, make me say that again, Granger, why don't you?
Draco groaned slowly, his right hand busy fidgeting with the corners of the book he had just put on the table. He should have known she was going to make this even more of a bother. He knew pretty well who he was dealing with, after all. But he faced her, looking straight at her eyes.
"I said, I needed your help." He didn't stutter this time, a fact that made him a bit proud and made him feel like he had recovered some dignity.
Hermione didn't answer immediately and they kept staring at each other, silence involving them once more. She had heard it right the first time. Draco Malfoy was really asking her for help. She did not know what for and was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the whole situation. Wake up, dammit!
"If you are going to sit there and gap at me all night like a bloody idiot, then I think I've made the wrong decision after all."
That seemed to shake her back to reality. No, definitely not a dream.
Malfoy was still there, expecting her reply. Was she going to say something? Was she going to laugh at him? Just try, Granger and I'll show you the power of the Inquisitorial Squad. I'll tie you to this chair and make you help me if I have too. Come to think of it, why didn't he do just that? Fucking twat.
"No, I…" now it was her turn to stumble with her words. "I… wait did you just call me an idiot?"
Draco sighed, closing his eyes and putting his fingers to his temples "Look, Granger, I really have no time for this. If you don't want to help, just say so and I'll be off your case." Not before docking more points and giving you detention. No one gets to refuse a Malfoy and get away with it.
Hermione did not know what to do. She felt like laughing at the absurdity of this situation, but felt incapable of doing just that, still too shocked to even attempt a grin. She also felt like this could be some kind of trick of getting her to do something she didn't want to do. That scenario seemed way more plausible. Or maybe this was a twisted way of Malfoy to torture her or disrespect her. Maybe he made a bet with someone. Get to Granger when she is most vulnerable, here, all alone, on Valentine's Day. The fact the he could possible need her help seemed too improbable. It was simply not possible. For that to happen, the world needed to be upside down, the earth had to rotate off its axis and the sky had to be green or red or purple. Draco Malfoy coming to her for help… This simply didn't happen.
She considered every possible scenario, trying to analyse his proposal in detail and still could not understand his true intentions. She needed more information.
"You haven't told me what for."
"What?"
"What for. Why do you need my help and what for?"
Draco pondered for a moment, thinking of an appropriate answer, one that wouldn't sound so silly. But what could he say? He only had one reason and even if he could find a way to say it without making it seem ridiculous, it was still just that: ridiculous. He had already admitted this to himself, might as well admit it to her. And if her response didn't match his expectations or his likings, he would make her suffer for that. Yes, that seemed reasonable.
"The essay. It is due tomorrow and…"
"What essay? Snape's?" She asked, now really confused. An essay? He needed help with a Potion's essay? But Potions was his favourite subject and it was also lectured by his favourite teacher. And he was Snape's favourite pupil! Was she missing something?
He simply nodded.
"But… Wha… Why?"
"For Merlin's sake, Granger. Want me to spell it out for you?" He asked, beginning to get annoyed.
"No, Malfoy. I'm just saying it's weird since you do well in Potions and you are like Snape's protégée." She clarified.
"That doesn't mean anything. Snape doesn't favour me in that way."
Right, Malfoy and when cows lie down, it rains!
She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief.
"What?" he scowled.
"Nothing." She replied, still shaking her head. "So, you are struggling with your essay and you come to ME for help. How thoughtful." She said sarcastically.
"Don't flatter yourself, Granger. I wouldn't, if didn't have to. You can surely notice the measurement of my despair in coming to YOU for help. But since, none of my fellow classmates are smart enough and I really don't want to flunk my, as you said it, 'favourite class', you were the only acceptable choice." Draco explained, the corners of his book beginning to curl upwards.
"Wait… Did you just say I was smart?" Merlin, what was wrong with the world today? Are you sure you are not dreaming? Are you, REALLY?
"Oh, just fuck off, Granger. Forget I asked." He said as he picked up his book and turned to walk away.
"Wait!" she called. He stopped, but didn't face her. "Ok, I'll help you."
What?
Hermione had just accepted to help Draco Malfoy, her nemesis, her tormenter and bully. Why? She wasn't sure herself. She still wasn't certain if this wasn't just some sort of scheme or joke, but the way he had asked her and looked at her, made her think otherwise.
He wasn't comfortable, she could say that much. He was SO not comfortable with this situation. And as he took a seat in front of her, his expression guarded, his body stiff, she knew that this was awkward and bizarre to him as well. Hermione could not begin to imagine how much pride he had to swallow, firstly to actually admit he needed help and secondly to come to her, of all people. She had no idea he cared this way about his marks, the information surprising her.
Truth was, what did she actually know about Draco Malfoy? She knew he came from a rich, Pureblood family and she knew he was a spoiled, little brat. She knew his father and how disgusting he was and she knew what they thought about her. She knew he enjoyed tormenting those he thought beneath him and she knew he hated losing or being bad at something. She knew he, sometimes, acted cowardly and selfishly, even towards the one's he considered his friends. And she knew he couldn't stand her, or Harry or Ron and he would do everything in his power to make their lives a tad arduous. But other than that, what did she truly know about Draco Malfoy?
She didn't know what he enjoyed, or what made him smile. She didn't know if he had ever liked someone for real. She heard about his conquests and how girls would talk about him, but he kept his private life just like that, private. She didn't know his favourite Quidditch player or where he spent his summers. And she certainly hadn't known he actually gave a damn about his education. She wasn't sure he knew how to read at all. Ok, that was lie, since he was behind her in all her classes. But… She did not know the boy in front of her at all, other from the façade he showed everyone. And that intrigued her.
And the fact that he came to her, asking for help, made her feel, dare she say it… good? Merlin, she knew it was stupid, but she couldn't help it. For years he had taunted her, called her out on her heritage, made her feel bad about herself. For years he had picked on her hair, her looks, her blood and for years he tried to make her feel exactly like something he swore she was: a filthy, little Mudblood. And now, finally, he was giving her a bit of recognition. Finally, he came to her for something he needed, looking past the fact that she was supposedly bellow him. And, yes, yes, it was silly of her to think like that. Hermione had confidence in herself, she knew exactly who she was and what she was capable of and she didn't need anyone's approval. But it felt bloody good to actually feel respected by someone of the Wizarding World who only thought of her as a little, tiny bug ready to be squashed. Yes, she felt respected. And that was a nice change of pace, for them anyway.
"Well, are we going to just sit here all night? I'd really appreciate if you would do what you said you would do, Granger. My beautiful face still needs some rest, so it can still be beautiful in the morning. Not that you would know what that is, of course, but please try to understand my pain. Not everyone was lucky enough to have been born with such a hideous appearance."
Yes, well, can't have everything, can you Hermione?
"Shut up, Malfoy." She retorted, returning her attention back to her book and her own essay "So, yes. Well, you do know what the essay is about, don't you?"
"Of course I do, Granger. I know you are used to being around those damned idiots, but I'm no Weasel or Potty. I already started. I'm just having some trouble in finding all those fucking Moonstone properties. Fucking absurd, if you ask me. Snape has finally lost his bloody mind."
"Well, have you looked through 'Magical Drafts and Potions'?" She pointed to another book resting on the table, visibly deciding on ignoring his witty remarks.
"No, I haven't." He said, looking over at the book she was referring to.
"Start there, then." She offered him the book, which he accepted. He took out various pieces of parchment from this own book and casually prepared himself to start taking some notes and write that awful essay.
Hermione was practically speechless, seeing him calmly reading the book and taking notes.
Weird didn't even begin to describe this situation. It was strangely odd and kind of creepy, the two of them sitting together in an abandoned library.
She wondered if she should tell them, Harry, Ron or even Ginny. She doubted they would even believe her. The Slytherin Prince sitting at her table, needing her help. It was completely unheard of! She wondered if she should say something more, give him some tips, but apart from all his faults, she had to give in to the notion that Draco Malfoy was actually an intelligent person. He had an eloquent speech when he wanted to or when he wasn't too busy degrading himself with his two goonies.
Hermione didn't understand that. If he was so smart, how could he handle being around those two cardboard heads? She sometimes had a tough time with Harry and Ron – especially Ron – she couldn't even imagine how Malfoy must feel like after a twenty second conversation with Crabbe and Goyle.
And then she remembered another interesting, bizarre point.
It was Valentine's Day.
She knew why she was alone, in a library, doing school work on a Valentine's Day. But, what was Malfoy's excuse? She had seen him around Parkinson a lot, lately. Rumour was it they were now an item. And she already knew he had had his conquests, which he keeps private. But, wasn't Valentine's Day a kind of sacred day for – as other girls constantly referred him as – The Slytherin Sex God?
Hermione blushed embarrassed. Merlin, why was she thinking about this now? He was sitting right in front of her, seemingly concentrated on his work, as she should be doing herself and she was wondering about Malfoy's sex life? The earth had definitely decided to take a spin around the moon!
"Whatever it is you are pondering about, Granger I suggest you just ask or that ugly head of yours is just going to detonate."
He didn't even look up from his work. How did he know she was staring? Or thinking about him for that matter?
Bloody jerk.
Should she answer? Should she tell him? No. He would merely dismiss her question. But she was so curious. Was she? Did she even want to know these things? Merlin, she had just wanted a calm night, buried in all her books, brooding away her sorrows.
"For fucks sake, just ask!" He snarled, now looking at her.
"I was… I was just wondering, how come you are here tonight, on Valentine's Day." She answered quietly.
Merlin, Hermione. You really need to learn to just shut up.
"Interesting question, Granger. What? Are you thinking I came here to spend the night in your lovely company? Didn't know you fancied me." He seemed to forget about his work for a moment and reclined back in his chair, eyeing her fully.
Hermione blushed harder, if possible "What? No! Merlin, no! That is not what I meant at all."
"So what did you mean? Are you actually trying to pry on my love life?"
He was smirking amusedly, a wicked aura radiating from him.
"No. I don't care about your love life. It was just mere curiosity." She stammered. Merlin, you are making a fool out of yourself and he is enjoying it. Shut up already! "Never mind though. Forget I asked."
Hermione pretended to go back to her work, feeling more embarrassed by the minute, unable to look at him anymore.
Draco was amused. Draco was very amused.
Straitlaced Granger asking about his sex life? Oh, this was simply too good to pass up. Who would have thought that Granger even knew what sex was? Ok, maybe that was an exaggeration. Although she was a stuck-up, know it all, bitchy Mudblood, even he was admitting that she was, first and foremost, a girl. And girls knew about sex, obviously. They would differ on the level of knowledge per say and Granger might have some theoretical knowledge, since she spent so much time with her eyes glued to a book. But practical knowledge? Draco scoffed at that. Highly doubtful. Yes, there had been that Krum bloke, but he seriously doubted that he had been anywhere near Granger's impenetrable knickers. Who would want to be near her knickers anyway?
You do.
Draco Malfoy growled angrily at himself.
No.
There would be no thinking about her knickers or everything about her. He told that annoying voice in his head to shut it. She was a fucking Mudblood and she was fucking Granger. I mean, look at her! She wasn't even that good-looking, with her bushy hair and tight-up little attitude. And he wouldn't dare to think what her body would look like, underneath those robes of hers.
She has nice legs.
. . .
He growled again, feeling pretty repelled with himself right now. It was the hormones. It had to be. He was a teenage boy and at this stage everything that walked and moved could be potential lay meat. But, Granger… Granger had to be the exception. He had to stay the fuck away from her. What would his father say if he found out his son was having lustful thoughts about a Mudblood? And why was he even having those thoughts in the first place? She was fucking Granger! She was not even merely attractive, lacking the sex-appeal he looked for in a woman. She wouldn't know what to do with the word seduction if it came flying straight at her face. And that snobbish attitude of hers. The way she thought she was smarter than everybody else, the way she pranced around in that school skirt, clearly oblivious to the fact that she had finally grown into the body of a young woman. They way those two dorks would follow her around, drooling at her appearance. Yeah, he had noticed that. The Weasel sometimes dared a peak at her cleavage, when she had the nerve to have one. And she was so daft about it all, only caring about books and school essays and elves and justice.
And she had the nerve to slap him, in front of the entire Great Hall, because he had been bold enough to just… pipe her the fuck down.
He wasn't a fucking fool. Granger would seldom do anything to improve her image. So when she appeared that morning, with sleek hair and make-up on her face, he knew. He knew she was trying to get someone's attention. And he didn't like it. He fucking didn't like it.
But why the fuck should he care? He shouldn't fucking care. She was a Mudblood. She didn't deserve to have anything with any Wizard who was above her. Mudbloods didn't dress up. Mudbloods didn't deserve to be or feel pretty. Mudbloods shouldn't be allowed to even copulate with another Wizard. And fuck if he was going to allow that.
Fuck her and her tamed hair and her legs and her skirts and her pouty, red lips.
So, yes, he decided to give her a taste of her own medicine. If she wanted to be noticed, she would be. And pumpkin juice wasn't that bad, actually. He should have shamed her with something ickier. He should have done something worse. He really should have. And even after that, she had the fucking nerve to slap him?
Oh, Granger. How I fucking hate you.
And yet, here I am, admitting to needing your help.
No. Not need. She was a tool. She was a pawn. She was merely here to help him achieve something.
Mudbloods weren't supposed to be this smart, but she was and she should feel grateful that he would even consider asking for her help. She should be thankful that he would acknowledge that she wasn't that useless after all. Yes, she should be thanking him and not the other way around. She wasn't doing him a favour, he was giving her a reason to feel proud about herself in helping a far more superior Wizard. Yes, she should feel pride in even being in his presence. She should feel grateful that he wasn't vomiting with disgust right now, just because he could smell her fucking perfume.
And it smells nice.
Fucking shut up!
Draco tried to go back to his work, trying to focus on anything but the stupid witch before him, but he simply couldn't concentrate. He kept going back to everything he had just thought about and how she was close to him and smelled like vanilla.
Fuck.
He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes, trying to block all these images that were suddenly spurring through his mind. Why had he come here? Why did he need help on this fucking essay? Why did he even care about this fucking essay? He was trying to what? Prove to Snape that he actually deserved his favouritism? Prove to him that he wasn't a total imbecile? Prove that he could actually join Voldemort if the time came?
Fuck. Fuck. Ten times fuck.
"Malfoy, are you ok?"
He opened his eyes and she was staring at him again, with those brown, Bambi eyes full of confusion. Of course he wasn't ok. He should be shagging someone. He should be letting Pansy suck him off, Merlin knows she offered several times. He should be covering a girls' tits with cream and eat away like it was delicious candy. It was fucking Valentine's Day and he was here, with Mudblood Granger, thinking about her fucking legs.
Twenty times fuck.
It was all her fault. Fucking, Granger.
He needed to do something. Something to show her how truly disgusting she really was. Something to keep the balance, to show her just how wrong she was. He needed to prove these thoughts were wrong, that they were all wrong. More than prove it to her, he needed to prove it to himself.
Yes. She needed a lesson.
And, suddenly, Draco Malfoy came out with a plan, a cunning plan. A diabolical plan that would leave Hermione Granger wishing she hadn't helped him in the first place. Oh yes, it would do nicely.
And the devious grin returned.
Hermione kept staring at him, uncomfortable at his constant mood swings. One minute he was growling at himself and now he was smiling wickedly. She couldn't keep up.
"I'm curious about your curiosity, Granger. Why would you want to know if I had plans for Valentine's Day?"
Hermione gulped.
"Well, I… I thought… Well Pansy –"
"What about Pansy?"
Why was she even answering him? Was she that bored, really?
"Well, she's your girlfriend isn't she?"
Draco scoffed, enjoying her alluring deductions "Yes, Pansy can be considered my" and his hands made a quote-like sign "girlfriend. What does that have to do with anything?"
"Isn't she upset that you aren't spending the day with her?"
"How do you know I haven't spent the day with her? In case you haven't noticed, Granger, it is quite late."
Hermione felt like an idiot. True, he could have spent the day with her, naturally, and then come here to finish his essay. Not everyone was dateless like you, Hermione. And the fact that even Malfoy had someone to spend this day with, annoyed her. Life could be cruel, sometimes.
When she didn't respond, he continued "You meant what? Why am I not shagging her senseless, right now?"
Hermione flushed red almost instantly. Ok, this conversation was officially over. She was not going to discuss Malfoy's bed habits. Not now, not ever.
"I didn't mean anything, Malfoy. As I said before, I was just curious. Now, let's just go back to work."
Malfoy noticed that she was extremely uncomfortable. And that pleased him very much. Oh no, Granger. How could I ever think about going back to work, when I have such good entertainment right in front of me?
"Would it tranquillize you to know that I was doing just that before coming here?"
Hermione had just turned eleven shades of red.
No, Malfoy. It doesn't. It just makes me all the more embarrassed. How could he be so crude about this?
"And that she enjoyed it? She enjoyed it very, very much."
We get the point, Malfoy. Just shut up.
"Would it make you happy to know her needs are being met? The proof for that being the way she screams my name, when we –"
"Ok, that's enough, Malfoy. I don't need to hear the details. Like I said, forget I asked. Let's just finish this so we can call it a night." She said, taking a hold of her quill again.
Oh no, Granger. We are just getting started.
"Well, since you asked me a question and I gave you an answer, it is only fair that you would do the same for me." He said, coolly reclining in his chair.
"What?" She asked, eyebrows burrowed in confusion.
"Answer me a question, Granger."
This is where your curiosity leads you, Hermione. Remember that. Always remember that.
She deliberated for a moment. What could he possibly want to know? Draco Malfoy didn't find anything she had to say interesting, so what could he possibly want to ask? She would regret this, she was sure of it. He was going to ask some embarrassing question and laugh in her face, afterwards. Or he was just going to make her look like a fool. Either way, she was still damn curious about all of this. About this strange interaction with Malfoy. Oh, what the heck!
"Ok, fine."
He smirked again, chuckling softly.
Yep, regretting it already.
Then he stopped laughing and his smirk vanished, to be replaced with a somewhat stern expression.
"Why are you here on Valentine's Day?"
She had been expecting some cruel, inappropriate question, but not this. This was ten times more humiliating. Explain to Draco Malfoy that she was here because she was this dateless monster, who no one seemed to find fitting to date? Explain that she had never spent Valentine's Day with anyone, apart from Krum last year and all he did was give her a big, box of chocolates, groping her behind in a mop closet? Not likely.
"Well, I needed to finish the essay, just like you. My date is waiting for me to go back, so we can celebrate properly."
And that was the lamest lie ever.
If she was the one in Malfoy's place she would have rolled on the floor laughing. Merlin, she was pitiful. No wonder she was a dateless monster.
And Malfoy obviously seemed to look right through her lie, Hermione knowing her face was always like an open book.
"I didn't take you for a liar, Granger."
She mocked "You are one to talk."
"I didn't lie earlier. I haven't lied to you ever since I came in here." He said sitting straight and returning to his notes "Oh well, guess I was wrong about you. You are right. Let's just finish the essay."
How Draco Malfoy managed to make her feel like crap, even though he was the most vile, insufferable human being at this table right now, drove her insane. The nerve of him! She wasn't a liar! If anyone here was a fucking liar, it was him! Now she almost felt obliged to come clean. How the fuck did he do that?
"Fine. I lied. But I'm no liar, Malfoy." She conceded, hoping to spark his interest again. And why did she want his interest? Merlin, she was clearly insane.
He didn't look up from his work, ignoring her.
Ok, now he is giving her the silent treatment? Argh!
"Ok, fine! I'm dateless, ok? I have no one to spend this day with so I came to the library to be by myself." She explained, her face feeling like a red tomato, which probably was.
That seemed to do it. Malfoy looked up from his work, giving her his full attention. Inside he was grinning like crazy. Oh, Merlin she was too easy.
Her eyes wouldn't face him, looking down at her essay. He noticed that she was absently biting her bottom lip, probably a nervous tick. The action brought his attention to her full, plump lips. They were nice lips, very nice actually. Malfoy enjoyed girls with full lips that he could bite on. Lips that would be easy enough to lick. Lips that would look so luscious around his –
Ok, stop right there. You are getting worked up over Granger's fucking lips. Get it together, Draco.
He cleared his sore throat and she peeked at him from under her lashes. Wasn't he going to say anything? All this fuss for nothing? If she would have known she would have never –
"I never did like Valentine's Day. It's a waste if you ask me. All this running around to buy a gift and feel like you have to prove your love for someone else. Why make a day especially for something that is supposedly every day of the year, when you are with someone you like? Why have a fucking day to show affection? If you feel it, you should show it whenever and wherever you fucking like it."
Was Draco Malfoy talking about love and feelings? And was Draco Malfoy trying to make her feel better about not having someone on Valentine's Day? Could things get any weirder? Hermione was stunned. And he knew it, since he gave a short sarcastic, laugh before saying:
"What? I can't talk about these things? Just because I'm the bad, prince of Slytherin, doesn't mean I don't have feelings, Granger."
Draco Malfoy had feelings. This was too much information for her brain right now.
"And as much as I would rather be shagging Pansy, I can do that any other time. And she knows that. She doesn't need fucking flowers and candy to know how I feel about her. I tell her every day."
Draco was enjoying this too much. The look on her face was priceless. Oh, Merlin! He was having too much fun with this. Who knew Granger could be such a blast? She was so gullible! If Pansy were here, she would be so fucking angry. Of course he doesn't care at all about fucking Pansy. She is only there to serve his pleasure, the only reason he has shagged her more than once being she was an easy lay, always ready to please him and spread her legs for him.
Of course, Granger doesn't know that. Right now, for all she knew, he loved Pansy. And that was hilarious as fuck.
Hermione really didn't know what to say next, her brain going into overload. This conversation was getting so peculiar, she doubted anything could ever top this as one of the oddest moments of her life.
"But, enough about me, Granger. I have to say I'm surprised you don't have someone special on this day. Thought that Weasel would have made a move by now."
"Who? Ron?" She laughed "You are clearly mistaken, Malfoy. I don't think about Ron that way and neither does he."
"And you are clearly daft if you don't see what is right in front of you. How Weasel manages to keep the drool in his mouth is what is truly impressive."
"What the hell are you talking about?" she questioned, having no idea what he was on about.
"Don't play fool, Granger. We know that lying isn't your forte. Everyone sees the way he looks at you or how he tries to look up your skirt when you climb up the stairs."
"What? He does not!" she squirmed, somewhat distressed by that information. Ron looked up her skirt? What?
He snickered "Keep telling yourself that."
Did Ron really look up her skirt? No. Malfoy was obviously messing with her. Of course, there have been moments when Ron would look at her for a while longer or when his hand would accidentally brush hers and he would turn into a blabbering idiot. But she had dismissed it all. They were friends. They were best friends. Her, Harry and Ron. That was it. There was nothing more to it. Malfoy was just messing with her.
Ron was a guy. And sometimes guys would look at you in certain ways, right? And since she was with them all the time, it was only natural, right? They weren't blind. She wasn't blind either. She knew her boys were, what you say, attractive. But apart from that notion, it felt weird thinking about them in any other way. So, Ron looking up her skirt was just Malfoy, being Malfoy and clearly seeing bad intentions in every one. Ron was just probably, seeing if her skirt was wrinkled. Yes, that was it.
"Although, I do understand where he is coming from. You do look nice in that skirt."
Wait… What?
"What?"
Hermione's heart skipped a beat.
Draco's inside grin just turned deadly. Oh yeah, bingo.
"Oh come on, Granger. Don't tell me you are this ignorant? You have a nice figure. It is only normal for guys to stare at it."
Hermione was pretty sure her mouth was hanging open and she was looking like a fool, but she couldn't seem to close it. Her brain finally went into overload, her body not responding to her mind. So, Draco Malfoy, had asked her for help, complimented her on her intelligence, tried to smooth her insecurities about Valentine's Day and was now saying she was good-looking?
"Are you sure I'm talking to Draco Malfoy?"
He genuinely laughed at that one. And Hermione gaped harder. He was laughing? Like truly laughing? A real laugh, not a smirk or snicker. Draco Malfoy was really laughing. And it wasn't even an ugly, pestering, annoying laugh. It was melodic and manly, all at the same time. She had made Draco Malfoy laugh. That notion made her heart swell and she wasn't sure why it did, but it did.
He seemed to calm down after a few moments, his hands coming up to straighten what was left of his now completely un-gelled hair, leaving it messy and wild. And as he was smiling like that, Hermione Granger noticed, for the first time, how handsome he was. She had evidently noticed that before, some of her friends stating the same obvious truth years and years ago. Draco Malfoy was handsome. He was very handsome. His skin was pale, but looked soft like a baby. His figure was lean, but not too thin, his Quidditch years were finally paying off, and he now had some muscles to show. His blonde hair was even prettier when he didn't gelled it back, just like he was now. And his eyes… Draco Malfoy had these grey, penetrating eyes that could sparkle in delight but turn you into stone cold, all at the same time. No wonder girls would fall at his feet, begging for an ounce of his attention.
But, as much as she gave him points for appearance, he certainly lacked other qualities. He was rude, obnoxious, prejudiced, arrogant, childish, mean, amongst so many other things. And that is why he would never capture her attention like that. Also, he thought she was dirt, so.
Hermione seemed to have finally come to her senses about all of this. He was toying with her. He was Malfoy. He would never give her a thought of day, much less think about her being attractive.
"Seriously, Malfoy. You can stop the charade. Whatever it is you are doing, it is not going to work. I'm not falling for it." She said in a more thoughtful tone.
His smile fell, a weary expression replacing it.
"I'm not doing anything, Granger. I'm just being honest."
"Honesty doesn't suit you."
Draco thought about taking this onto another direction. He wasn't ready to give up on her lesson just yet. For that, he needed her where she had been: completely dazed about what was going on. He had noticed the way she had looked at him, when he was laughing. She was entranced, probably feeling good about herself because she had made him enjoy her company. He needed her to be fascinated at the situation, marvelling at his actions. And he also needed to make her blush more often.
She looks adorable when she blushes.
Oh, for fucks sake. Not again. Fucking zip it!
He cleared his thoughts as he leaned over the table, coming closer to her. Her eyes widen, almost two times their natural size. Yes, that's it. That is how I need you, Granger. That's it. Look at me.
He held her gaze as he continued to scoot forward on his chair, his hands coming down under the table. She was biting her lip again, her eyes big and wide. Her breath picked up the pace and if he concentrated long enough, he was sure he could hear her heart beating faster. That's it, Granger.
When his fingers first made contact with her left knee, Hermione's first reaction was to jump slightly at the contact. Her heart was beating frenetically, blood pumping through her veins, up to her ears. What was he doing? What the hell was he doing?
They didn't do this. This wasn't normal.
What was he doing?
Then, his other hand came to rest over her right knee. His hand was warm, too warm. Since it was mid-February, Hermione had decided to skip full-length stockings, opting for one's that came just bellow the knee. So, it meant that Draco Malfoy was touching her bare legs, under the table.
She was trying to control her erratic heart, through her breathing. In the midst of it all, her mouth had slightly opened and her eyes were still looking back at his. She couldn't look away. The way he was looking at her, like he was trying to decipher her every thought… no one had ever looked at her like that before. Merlin, what the fuck is he doing? And what is she doing? Get him off you. Why aren't you removing his hands?
Her skin was softer than he imagined, her legs a bit cold, a consequence from the chilly air in the library. And as he sat there, with his hands on Hermione Granger's bare legs, he couldn't seem to process why he was doing all of this in the first place. How she hadn't backed away and give him another punch was a mystery to him. Instead, she was holding his gaze, breathing rapidly, her mouth in a small 'O'. From this angle he could make out every detail of her face, from her pouty lips to her big eyelashes. The way her eyes weren't all brown, but a mixture of chocolate almond. How her petit nose would scrunch up when in doubt and how, unpredictably, her tongue would lick her inner, bottom lip.
He wanted more. He wanted to see more.
The fingers on her left knee began to softly travel their way up her leg, reaching the hem of her skirt. That damn skirt.
That's it, Granger. Keep up with me. Follow my lead.
Hermione was certain she could no longer hide the way she was breathing, which turned laboured. Her eyes were still as wide as they could be and she almost refused to blink. He was still looking at her, as his hand made his way under her skirt.
Draco Malfoy was touching her, under her skirt.
He was touching her.
He was touching her under her skirt.
And she was letting him.
The other hand that was resting on her right knee woke up as well, coming around her leg, resting itself on the back of her thigh, close to the chair she was sitting on. And it suddenly gave her a light squeeze, to which she almost yelped in reply.
Draco's own breathing was beginning to pick up the pace. Hmm, definitely not dirty or filthy. Not at all. Her skin was even softer and he was surprised with what felt to be a toned leg. Yes, she had fucking nice legs.
More. He wanted more.
The hand that was under her skirt ventured higher and higher until he was reaching a point he knew he could go no further, without her direct approval. He may be a Slytherin. He may be the son of Lucius Malfoy and he may be a fucking tosser, but he wasn't a rapist. No. He would never, ever, force himself onto a woman. Although he sometimes liked it a bit rough, he always had them willingly. And Granger, on that matter, wasn't the exception.
And there she was, looking at him, eyes unblinking, mouth opened, her breath coming out in pants. He could easily deduce that no one had had their hand under her skirt yet, from the way she was acting. This baffled him. He suddenly felt some kind of primal accomplishment, for being the first one to touch her like this. But if he was wrong and if he wasn't that also worked him up, but in a jealous sort of way.
Fuck.
What the fuck was happening?
They sat like that for ages, Malfoys hands on her legs, one under her skirt, pretty close to where her thigh met her torso and the other one resting on the back of her right leg, over the junction where her knee met her thigh. And she would occasionally bit her lip, probably wondering if she should say something or why wasn't she doing anything. And he was still staring at her. Sometimes, his fingers would softly graze her skin and her breath would hitch on its own accord. And every time they did, they seemed to get a little closer to her knickers.
Merlin, what are you doing, Hermione? Stop him. Can't you see he is messing with you? Why else would he be touching you like this? You are filth to him, remember? He hates you and you hate him. This is fucking crazy. Stop him!
But she couldn't, her body long losing its ability to move.
And his fingers continued their exploration of her skin, closer and closer to end of their journey and Hermione couldn't bring herself to stop him. Was she actually enjoying this? Was she enjoying having Malfoy's fingers grazing her knickers?
Draco kept caressing her thigh, his turned to be entranced. Her eyes weren't as wide anymore. If anything, they were starting to get hazy. So, this was actually turning her on.
Fuck.
And as if on cue, her leg seemed to give in a little and parted to the left. Was she…?
He couldn't do anything but to oblige to her wishes and slowly, oh so very slowly, his fingers reached their destination and he softly touched, Granger's untouched pussy for the first time. And her eyes closed, not bearing to look at him any longer and he thought he had never seen anything so erotic in his entire life, as her mouth parted and a silent, soft moan formed in her throat.
Fuck, Granger.
Draco struggled to keep his control in check, this image certainly not helping his current state as he felt himself get hard at the feel of Granger's pussy through her knickers.
They were cotton. Fucking fantastic. He made a mental picture of Granger, with her legs opened for him, under the table, white, cotton knickers with a tint of wetness, waiting for him.
Fuck. Fuck. Thirty times fuck.
His index finger was feeling bold and decided to slowly travel up her slit and then down, feeling her outer lips parting with the motion.
Fuck.
She still had her eyes closed, her brows burrowed in concentration, another quiet moan leaving her throat.
Shit. Fucking shit, Granger. You are fucking killing me here.
Hermione was lost. She was lost in a place she didn't know. She was lost somewhere, her mind failing her, her senses overpowered. She was lost in a place she had read about, but never been. She was somewhere between nowhere and anywhere. And as one of his fingers maintained this motion, this up and down, up and down, up and down, she couldn't get away from that place. She was lost, trapped. She couldn't get out.
A pause. She wondered why he had paused, still too lost in it to think clearly. His finger had paused only to rub the place where it had paused. And oh, Merlin. It was like a shock going through her body. Like someone had just plugged her into this electric, pleasurable current. And she moaned. And it wasn't all that quiet this time. And he seemed to like that, so he did it again. Oh fuck, again, that deep current. That wonderful sensation.
Draco was hypnotized, for a lack of better word to describe it. He was hypnotized by the exoticness that was Hermione Granger. The way she responded to him, the way her legs seemed to give in and the way she would moan when his finger would rub her clit. Fuck. He was hard. So hard. He had never been so hard in his life. And it was all for fucking Granger.
Fucking Mudblood Granger.
Yes, a Mudblood.
You are touching a filthy Mudblood.
What would your father say if he saw you now, getting all worked up over some Mudblood's bloody knickers?
Draco widen his eyes and his fingers stopped their motions.
What the fuck was he doing? Since when had this become so fucked up? He was meant to be teaching her lesson. He was meant to be showing her how dirty she was, how ugly. This was supposed to be vengeance. Vengeance for the punch, the slap. Vengeance for her thinking she was better than him. Vengeance for all those times she had popped up in his head, when he was shagging someone else. Vengeance for her not living down to her own standards. This was meant to be a fucking lesson.
He was supposed to work her up, leave her wanting and humiliated; prove to her that she was nothing more than a whore, who would spread her legs for anyone. Prove that she was so fucking filthy, her thighs would feel rough and hurt his hands. Prove that he wouldn't be affected by her knickers or her pussy, that it would only repulse him. Prove that she deserved to be alone, that there wouldn't be a chance on earth that anyone would want to touch something so foul. And prove to himself that all his thoughts were wrong, that she was an abomination.
Except he was one who was currently feeling like an abomination. His cock was twitching painfully, his hands up her fucking skirt, his fingers craving so much more. And all for a fucking Mudblood.
Fuck, he was a disgrace to his name.
And just like that he stopped touching her and removed his hands, like they had been burned.
Hermione seemed to wake up from her trance as soon as felt Mafloy's hands leaving her legs. She was flustered, hot and still a bit dazed. Her throat was dry and her tongue wetted her lips. Slowly, she opened her eyes, only to discover that Malfoy was quickly standing up, gathering his things. Her brain was trying to process what had happened during this past hour, her thoughts still too fuzzy, just like her eyes. She thought about something to say, but couldn't come up with anything. What could she possible say? She doubted she could even speak right now.
She looked up at him, just as he was preparing to leave. She couldn't read his expression, but she noticed that a slight scowl was appearing on his features. Was he… Was he mad at something?
Draco gathered all his stuff, feeling the extreme urgency to get out of there. Get away from all of this. Get away from this table, get away from this library, get away from her. His head was muddled, his cock still hard and his fingers faintly smelled of her scent. Fuck, he needed to get out of here. He needed get out of here, now.
He turned his back and was just taking his first step to freedom when he halted.
He should say something. He should definitely say something. He should clear up the situation. He should punish her for clouding up his mind with these disgusting thoughts. He should do something. He should say something.
He should remind her just how filthy she was. He should tell her all the things he had wanted to tell her in the first place. He should. He definitely should. What if she used this against him? What if she told anyone? His reputation would be forever ruined. Would she say something? Would she tell Potty or fucking Weasel? No, she wouldn't. That would also make her look bad, right? She wouldn't' say anything. She was going to be too ashamed. Too ashamed to even think about it, much less talk about it. Yes, she wouldn't say anything. And neither would he. He wouldn't speak a word about this to anyone, not even to himself. This one would follow him to his grave. And he expected her to do the same.
"If you tell anyone about this, Granger, I'll personally make sure no one touches your filthy, Mudblood knickers, ever again."
Hermione didn't have a chance to reply, as he walked away and left her there, with her legs spread under the table, her skirt above her thighs.
She didn't know what to say. She didn't know anything, right now. Her brain had shut down on her and all she could feel was this prickling sensation of guilt, humiliation and shame, all at once.
She looked down at the book he had left on the table, the book she had offered him so he could finish up his essay, that fucking essay. She looked down at that book as tears began to form in her eyes, her mouth still dry, her legs still opened and her core still tingling and warm. Tingling for him, warm for him. She was shamefully aroused by none other than Draco Malfoy. She was aroused for him, for the big, bad prince of Slytherin. For the one person who despised her, for the one who tormented her ever since he had laid his eyes on her. For the one that called her Mudblood, time and time again. She was aroused by him.
Draco Malfoy just had his hands up her skirt and she enjoyed it. She fucking enjoyed it.
A single tear fell down her face.
No, Malfoy. I will never tell anyone about this. No one will ever know, not even myself. I don't want to know. I want to forget.
This never happened.
This never happened.
This never happened.
Hermione kept repeating this in her head, until her legs hurt, until her tears dried and until the sun began to rise in the horizon.
No, this never happened.
This never happened.
This never happened.
This never happened.
My favourite chapter so far. Loved writing this. I apologize for the length, but I couldn't stop. It was based on a personal, similar experience I had when I was in high school *naughty*
I hope you are having a fantastic day, wherever you are! Thank-you for reading and suggestions and critiques are welcomed :)
