"You're obviously not the same person I fell for first year."
Draco stood there on the roof, panicking. That last piece of bullshit had clearly taken this conversation over the edge of believability. She was sure to burst out laughing in approximately five seconds. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…
"Fuck you, Malfoy," she said. It had worked. Hook, line, and sinker, whatever that ridiculous Muggle phrase meant. He felt like giggling.
But he didn't. Instead, he looked her head-on and said, "Fuck you, Granger, I'm serious. You used to actually care about people, and what it meant to be a Gryffindor, and now-"
"What would you know about what it means to be a Gryffindor?"
He ignored this and continued, "And now, you're a bona-fide bitch! I really liked y-"
She strode forward and slapped him. He stared back at her, enthralled. The only other time he'd seen her like this was when she had started that campaign for house elf rights. It was fascinating. And she was so freaking hot when she was mad. For about three seconds they both stood there, not quite sure what to do.
It was impossible to tell who moved first. But somehow her legs wrapped around his waist and they were against the guardrail kissing like there was no tomorrow. And he was so absorbed in wondering where she'd learned to kiss like this that he forgot to give his signal to the cameraman who, luckily, knew his part.
Hermione was enjoying her current condition. She couldn't believe it, but here she was, snogging Draco Malfoy. Just as his hand started to drift up her shirt, she heard a click and saw flashes of light. She pulled away from an obviously incapacitated Malfoy to see a man with a wizard camera standing at the other edge of the tower, leering at her. She glanced back at Malfoy just in time to see him raise an eyebrow. The cameraman nodded and disappeared. "Right," Draco said. "See you around, Granger." She glanced at him and turned away, to gaze past the rest of Hogwarts to what was visible of the lake, her safe spot. This doesn't hurt. Show him I don't care. She looked back at him and rolled her eyes for good measure.
He felt something flip in his stomach as he turned to look at her one more time, in wonder at her kissing expertise. He turned, headed to the Slytherin common room while he waited for the sleazy paparazzo to return with the prints.
Hermione sat at the window next to her bed, which was fast becoming her favorite place in the castle. She wasn't sure how she'd gotten here, exactly; the last thing she remembered was standing at the tower's edge as Malfoy walked away.
Shit. Malfoy. The tower. Shit. He'd obviously hired that cameraman. You didn't have to be the brightest witch of your year to deduce that much. This is bad, she thought. Who knows what's going on in that twisted, cunning mind? I have to find him, talk him out of it. She stood, tiptoed down into the common room.
There was no sign that anyone had been in the common room for several hours. She sighed. Hermione didn't particularly like visiting Ron and Harry in their native habitat. It smelled like sweat and dirt, and if anyone saw her there and got the wrong idea… She shook her head, glanced around the room once more, and dashed up the boys' stairs. Thank goodness for archaic notions about girls being trustworthy.
It wasn't a pretty sight. The drapes of Neville's four-poster were shut tight, but the rest of them slept out in the open, in various states of undress. She shielded her eyes and crept to Harry's bed. Quietly perched on the edge of the mattress, Hermione shut the curtains and whispered, "Muffliato."
"Harry. Harry. Harry, wake up!" She slapped him gently. "Come on, wake up!" He rolled over, groaning. "Harry, come on, I know you hear me. Wake up!"
Unable to avoid it any longer, the Boy Who Lived rubbed his eyes and propped himself up on one arm. "What is so important that you have to wake me at," he checked his watch, "two in the morning?"
"Well, you certainly look rested," Hermione whispered vehemently, annoyed that anyone could be sleeping when she was on the verge of such a crisis. "I need the Invisibility Cloak. And before you ask, I can't tell you right now, but I will soon."
Harry leaned over to reach under his bed and produced the cloak, handing it to her with an unusually serious, "Be safe."
"Thanks, Harry." She swiftly kissed his cheek. "You're the best. See you tomorrow." She left the way she came.
Out in the corridor, under the cloak's cover, Hermione finally thought about what it was she was doing. Slytherin common room. Slytherin common room. It's in the dungeons, but how am I supposed to get in there? This was a bad idea. There won't be anyone I can follow in this late. What am I going to do? And tomorrow, pictures of me and- him. Oh God.
Hermione Jean, don't be foolish. As always during a time of crisis, her father's voice entered her mind, steady and kind and logical. It's just like with orthodontics. Start at the source of the problem.
"But Malfoy's the source of the problem, and he's in that room."
Fine. It's more like police work, then. Return to the scene of the crime and all that.
"The tower?" She thought out loud. "He did look comfortable up there, maybe that tower for him is like the lake for me." Hermione took off. Thanks, Dad.
She arrived at the tower minutes later, quietly out of breath. She stopped dead in her tracks, seeing Malfoy taking to the photographer and handing him a bag of money. The man disappeared, Merlin only knows how, and Malfoy glanced at the papers he held in one hand, chuckling. Hermione couldn't help but be floored by his dimples. She smiled. I kissed him. He kissed me. And then he left, after the photographer he hired took pictures of us. The smile faded.
"Malfoy," she yelled, stepping out from where she'd been concealed.
"Granger?" He turned, and Hermione caught a glimpse of the look she'd seen in his eyes, that day she'd kneed him in the balls. It was a mix of admiration and something she didn't recognize. He soon got his features under control, though, and adopted the famed smirk. "I thought you'd be bright enough to understand this. I kissed you- er, asked you to kiss me, so I could get this evidence," here he waved the documents in his hand, "and hang them all over Hogwarts by morning, rendering your reputation as dirty as your blood." He paused. She waited. "So, if you're here to confess anything, any feelings you might have for me, I would recommend refraining from pouring your heart out. What happened earlier was a trick, nothing more."
He was good, but she was better. Another skill Mr. Granger had taught his daughter early in life was the ability to read a man's face accurately, to see through lies. Malfoy's words were harsh, but that look of high esteem and a mystery emotion persisted. Now, Hermione, how can you use this to your advantage? Her dad-voice asked. She bit her lip and looked down to stall while she racked her brain. For the second time that night, she wished she could see inside Draco Malfoy's brain. What did he want? What did he fear?
The voice that guided her was no longer her father's, but Ginny's. Oh, honestly, Hermione. Don't be thick. What does any boy want?
He's different, Hermione insisted, struck by how odd it was that she was having an argument with a voice in her head. I'm a mudblood. And also, not much to look at.
Would you please shut up? You're gorgeous. And obviously he doesn't care what your parents are. Look how he's looking at you!
Fine. Here I go to make a fool of myself. Hermione took a deep breath and got into character. "Really?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Just a joke?" She hid her face as if crying. "I really have liked you since first year. I was so happy when you said that." She bit her lip again shyly. "And I thought you felt something when we kissed. I mean, I know I did." She looked up at Malfoy, pleading with her eyes.
"Nothing. It was all an act," he said nonchalantly.
Come on, Hermione, he's wavering. Pick it up a little, the Ginny-voice prodded. Hermione looked back up at the blonde boy standing in front of her, through her eyelashes. She twirled a piece of hair and said in a breathy, quivering voice, "Nothing at all?"
He shook his head. She took a few steps closer, hating that it was so easy for her to channel her inner Lavender. "So, like right now, you don't feel anything?"
"No."
She walked right next to him and looked straight into his eyes. "Now?"
She heard and felt him breathe out, and knew she was getting to him. "No," he insisted softly, seeming to realize he was fighting a losing battle.
"Alright then," Hermione said. She slid her arms around his neck and came even closer, her lips mere centimeters from his. "And now?"
Sorry for the long wait. Horrible school and my own laziness may result in very irregular updates. However, I'm on break this week, so Chapter 6 might be up quite soon. As always, reviews of any variety are not only welcomed, but encouraged!
