1 more day!!!!
Ch 17 Gets the Oil
"Hermione's been acting weird lately. Since she got back from the convention" Ron waited for Harry to answer.
The pair stood on a stone walkway overlooking a snow covered courtyard. They'd just finished with DADA and were killing time until Transfiguration.
"I dunno; I guess so," Harry shrugged rubbing his hands together to combat the bitter February cold. Harry didn't feel like talking about Hermione's behavior. He'd been forced to endure far too many conversations like this since the whole lust potion incident at the beginning of the year.
"And what do you think really landed her in detention every night this week?" Ron asked leaning to spit over the railing. "Watch it!" he called to the unlucky first year walking below.
"She told us," Harry said distractedly. "She and Malfoy got into a fight in front of the entire convention and Sprout said they'd irrevocably embarrassed Hogwarts."
"Yeah, I know she said that, but detention for the whole week? Seems a little steep."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, if Hermione says that's what happened, then that's what happened. Why would she lie?"
Ron was quiet for a while, apparently lost in thought, "Right. Why would she lie?"
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"Keep shoveling, you filthy little beasts," Filch called from his seat on a snow covered stump.
Hermione groaned and paused to wipe the sweat from her brow. On this, their second night of detention, Draco and Hermione were given the backbreaking task of clearing snow from the walkway that led up the entire length of the grounds. With magical assistance, this assignment would have taken ten minutes at most, but seeing as this was punishment, the pair had been shoveling for over an hour and weren't halfway finished.
Hermione squinted to see how well Draco was doing on his half of the job. Hmm, a fair share better than her. He seemed to be ¾ of the way through the bottom half of the walkway. That made sense, of course; he had much more upper body strength. She pushed her shovel through the thick wet snow and slowly lifted the heavy burden off to the side. She wasn't in as much of a hurry as Draco seemed to be. Her muscles ached from the strain of lifting the heavy piles and she longed for Draco to finish his half and assist on hers. She wondered why he'd divided the work up in the first place; it all had to get done in the end.
"Speed it up, Gryffindor," spat the old grouch.
Hermione rolled her eyes and resumed her work. A nagging feeling in the back of her mind knew why Draco separated the work load- he was avoiding her.
Although it seemed odd, given his recent persistent behavior, Draco had not so much as looked at her since Sunday afternoon- since she told him to piss off and leave her alone. A feeling of guilt rolled into her stomach as she watched his back toss snow out of his way.
He wasn't so bad when he wasn't trying to act like an arrogant prick- when there was no one around to impress. And she hadn't really meant it. She'd said it because it seemed appropriate. Like the right thing to say, given whom they were.
She remembered even as the words left her mouth, she hadn't felt them. It was like she was reciting from a playbook. She remembered as she stalked off, all puffed up and indignant, she'd already been planning what to say the next time he tried to come on to her. She didn't think for one minute that he might actually listen to her.
At breakfast Monday morning she remembered looking at him numerous times but he was never looking back. She didn't think much of it at the time, but as the day went on and he hadn't acknowledged her in any of their classes, she began to wonder what game he was playing. It wasn't until their detention that she realized he might not be playing at all.
They'd both reported to Madame Sprout to receive their detention assignment: de-quilling knarls in the potions laboratory with Professor Snape. Draco had accepted the assignment with a nod before walking wordlessly to the dungeon to begin the task.
Hermione thought he was keeping up appearances for the professors, but even after Snape left them alone, Malfoy's behavior hadn't change. He had seated himself at one of the tables near the front of the room and she found herself staring at his back wondering what was going on. She'd never known him to ignore her before.
She watched him as he worked, scratching the knarl's face so it wouldn't feel the quills being removed. What was he, some sort of knarl charmer? The feisty creature in her hands already thrice-tried to bite her. Alas, she'd ask for his secret if he was speaking to her.
She couldn't help but feel disappointed in his sudden change of behavior. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she liked his attention. Some small part of her cherished the feeling of masculine appreciation. She couldn't remember many times in her life when anyone had treated her like she was sexy or tempting or…beautiful.
And of course, he'd never said anything to indicate she was any of those things, but he had made her feel like she was. And it was the feeling she would miss.
Movement from the bottom of the walkway tore Hermione from her thoughts. Draco was making his way up the grounds to address Filch. Hermione thought it was odd that he'd even try talking to the leathery caretaker who didn't have a lenient bone in his body. She watched with interest as Malfoy spoke to the man before motioning to his portion of the walkway. The older man nodded and Draco began trekking up to the castle. Where is he going? Hermione wondered. They still had a lot of snow to clear.
"Malfoy? What are you…" but she quieted as he walked right passed her and dropped is shovel in the snow.
"Get back to work, you!" Filch ordered and Hermione whipped around to face the severe old man.
"But, what about Malfoy?" she asked feeling betrayed by his departure.
"What about him?" Filch asked grinning at the chance to put the cheeky girl in her place. "He's finished his share of the work. Maybe, if you had spent more time working and less time staring at his backside, you'd be finished as well."
Hermione felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. She wanted to scream and refuse to do anything until Malfoy returned, but knew that was out of the question. Mustering all of her self control, she turned back to her work and resumed shoveling. Stupid Malfoy, she grumbled. She couldn't believe he would leave her out here like this. Oh wait, who was she kidding? Of course she could.
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The following afternoon, Hermione walked out to the frozen Black Lake to find Ron and Harry playing a game of fetch with Fang.
"Hi Hermione," they greeted as they noticed the brunette approaching.
Harry simply smiled while Ron leaned down to collect her in a bear hug.
"Hi boys," she said finding a snow-free spot on a nearby bench and settling down to enjoy some well needed friend-time.
"How was detention last night?" Harry asked tossing a dried stick out onto the lake, "We didn't see you at breakfast."
"It was shit," she said rolling her neck and stretching her arms. "I'm unbelievably sore."
The boys looked at her and smiled. "Did ickle Hermione have to do manual labor?" Ron asked in appalling baby-talk.
Hermione scowled. "It was hard work," she huffed. "I'd like to see how well you felt after shoveling that whole walk."
Ron plopped down in the seat next to her, "I can give you a backrub if you want."
"No thanks," she smiled. The last thing she wanted was a backrub from Ron.
She cursed herself for ever agreeing to be his girlfriend. If only she'd told him that it didn't feel right. That she couldn't make herself feel something that wasn't there. It was just that he'd caught her off guard; she'd been so shaken up from her encounter with Malfoy that she didn't have a chance to think.
I'm going to have to tell him.
She couldn't let things go on like they were. He didn't deserve this. He deserved better than an unfaithful girlfriend who couldn't get another boy out of her head. The trick was, finding a way to break up with him without ruining their friendship.
"Hey Ron, can I talk to you for a minute?" she said, surprising herself. I didn't mean now! She hadn't even given herself time to prepare a speech.
"Yeah, sure," he said standing up and presenting his hand to help her up as well.
"Wait, don't get up," Harry interrupted seeing that the couple wanted privacy, "I'm going to take Fang back to Hagrid. See you two later."
"Thanks mate," Ron said before turning to Hermione and fixing her with a questioning look.
She opened her mouth but no words came out. How do you tell your best friend that you don't want to be his girlfriend?
"Hermione?" he said plastering on a cheesy grin, "Didn't you have something to talk about?"
Oh no, not the smile! She couldn't break up with him while he was smiling like that. "Er, yeah." It's now or never. Just tell him. "It's just…well, I don't know if this is going to work."
Hermione watched as the smile fell from Ron's face. "What?"
"I just think it was a mistake to put a label on us. I mean, there's all this pressure now and I am feeling bad for being busy…and…can't we just go back to the way things were and see where it goes from there?" She knew she was babbling but it was the only way to keep from backing down.
Ron was quiet for ages (probably more like seconds) before he responded. "What pressure?" he asked.
"What?" Hermione said. This was not the response she would have expected.
"You said there's pressure. What pressure? We've only been together for five days." He was still sitting next to her on the bench, his face pale and nervous.
"I don't know. Expectations. Like I have to act differently or something," she said. "But that's not really the point. I just don't feel good about this."
After that declaration there was some yelling from Ron. Hermione had expected as much and met his anger with empathy. Her calmness only seemed to make things worse.
He'd asked why she agreed to be his in the first place. She told him she didn't know. He asked her to change her mind. She told him she couldn't. And as Ron turned away and began storming towards the castle, Hermione let the whimper she'd been restraining slip from her lips.
I'm sorry, she thought as she tried to regain her composure. Several hot tears escaped down her cheeks; she wiped them away before they could drip from her face. Stop crying, she scolded, you wanted this.
And then he was back.
A hand landed on her shoulder and pulled sharply until she was turned around on the bench. Hermione gasped and pulled away at the hateful look she saw on his face.
"I just want to know one thing," he said gripping her shoulder tightly. "Does this have anything to do with Malfoy?"
Hermione choked from shock. She felt her face betray her guilt before she could school it back to innocence. "Of course not," she managed looking at the Weasley sweater he was wearing instead of in his eyes. "What does Malfoy have to do with anything?" she asked.
"Why don't you tell me? He's been staring at you for weeks and you spent all that time working together on your project and then you had an entire weekend together in Australia. So again, Hermione, why don't you tell me what Malfoy has to do with it."
Hermione had seen Ron this angry in the past, but that anger had never been directed at her. He spat the accusatory words with spiteful venom.
"I don't know what else to say besides, it's not about Malfoy."
But it was about Malfoy. And now she was not only a bad friend, but also a liar.
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Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon avoiding Ron. After a quick trip to Gryffindor, to pick up some pain-reliever and study supplies, she found herself in the one place that she had no chance of running into Ron, the library.
Hermione read for hours before she was disrupted by a paper airplane landing in her lap. Wrinkling her brow in confusion, she unfolded the plane to discover a detention notice. Apparently Professor Sprout was tired of delivering the assignment in person.
Notice of Detention
Miss Hermione Granger is to report to Professor Binns in room the History of Magic classroom at seven o'clock..
This detention is in response to I believe you know the reason.
Issued by
Prof. P. Sprout
Hmm, detention with Binns? Strange. She'd never heard of him hosting a detention. Undoubtedly, she was in for an unparalleled night of boredom.
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Never one to arrive late for anything, Hermione showed up for detention at five to seven. The room was empty aside from two desks pushed nose to nose. Each desk boasted a large pile of parchments, a bottle of ink, and a quill.
Hermione stood awkwardly at the door wondering if she'd read the time on her slip correctly.
"Well, have a seat," came the dreary voice of Professor Binns as he appeared through the black board and floated to the center of the room. "You'll be editing first year essays," he said.
"Right," Hermione mumbled moving to claim one of the desks. She sat down and cursed whoever thought it was a good idea to have the desks facing one another. How was she supposed to ignore Malfoy's silent treatment if she was staring right at him?
I guess I'll find out, she thought as Malfoy chose that moment to roll in.
He seated himself in the desk across from her and glanced at Binns who informed him of their task. Without once acknowledging her presence, he dipped the provided quill in the provided ink and began marking the first essay.
Hermione was outraged. How dare he act like I'm not here! She narrowed her eyes and stared at him for five straight minutes in an attempt to annoy him into cracking.
He didn't seem to notice one way or the other. The only difference now, was that he was on his second essay and she hadn't even started. She held back a growl and began to read her first essay. There was no way she was going to let him finish early tonight.
It didn't take long before Professor Binns was asleep at his desk; his pearly body hovered a few inches above the chair and his arms sunk under the top surface. A sleeping ghost was a strange sight indeed.
Hermione completed another essay by scribbling, "consider a new title," at the top in a sloppy Ron-worthy script. She was determined to finish before Malfoy, even if she had to suppress her usual scholastic perfection to do so. She glanced up at his pile of unedited essays and noticed with satisfaction that it was unquestionably larger than her own.
But suddenly that wasn't a victory anymore.
It didn't mean anything if he wasn't playing along. She watched irritably as he scanned the page before him, stifled a yawn and then jotted something down on the parchment. He looked relaxed. Calm. The bastard.
"You're doing it on purpose," Hermione whispered furiously as she snapped her eyes back to her own work.
Draco didn't immediately respond. He took his time finishing up his writing before clearing his throat and drawling, "Did you say something, Granger?"
Oh, you're good. Bloody wanker. Bringing back the old snobbery. "You heard me," she said setting down her quill and resting her eyes on the blond head that remained casually down-turned.
"Was that you?" he asked innocently. "I thought a screech owl had found its way here to die."
"Good joke," Hermione scoffed. She hated that he was yet to look up from the essays. Sod the essays! Because honestly, who gives a fuck about the stupid essays? "Why are you ignoring me?"
There. She'd put it out there. And now she could do nothing but wait for his response.
He took his time. Dragging his eyes from the parchment on his desk and locking them with her nervous gaze. "Does it bother you?"
Is your father a duplicitous swine of a Death Eater? "Yes!" she huffed slapping both of her palms on her desk and rolling her eyes. "It just doesn't make any sense!"
Hermione had clearly lost all pretense of patience by this point. Not that she'd had any to begin with. Angry breaths came in rapid shallow puffs along with the realization that she must look like a crazed she-beast. Sod that too, she thought derisively.
"I thought this is what you wanted," his cool voice cut in. "I believe you said you were not interested in me and that I should…oh how did you so eloquently phrase it...piss off?"
He is being difficult. Like he really gives a goblin's arse what I have to say anyway. He's never cared before. I've told him to piss off hundreds of times and it's never done any good. "I didn't think you'd actually listen," she mumbled before she'd even noticed it was aloud.
And he took that opportunity to laugh loudly. It startled her out of her grumblings and she realized that he was smiling now. All semblance of icy exterior gone. "Aww Granger, you missed me?"
The teasing tone of his voice and the smug smile on his lips made her want to slap him. Wipe that smirk off your face, she thought. "No," she said just to bring him down a notch or two.
But to her extreme annoyance, it had the opposite effect. His smile widened and his scarred brow arched expectantly. "No?"
And as if it was the straw that broke the camel's back, Hermione caved. Spectacularly. She'd come this far. He knew anyway. So with as much dignity as could be salvaged from the most embarrassing conversation of her life, Hermione Granger admitted that yes, in fact, she had missed Draco Malfoy.
She cringed as the words left her mouth. Her fingers curled around the desk as she waited for the teasing that would inevitably follow. But it never came.
"Well then, let's go," he said rising from his chair and offering his arm.
"Where?" she asked blankly. They had detention to think about.
"Anywhere."
And without waiting for a response, he grabbed her hand and hoisted her out of her chair. She was halfway across the room before her mind registered what was happening.
"But what about detention?" she asked trying to peak over her shoulder at the unfinished work they were leaving behind.
"Don't worry about it," he said reaching for the door and swinging it open, "trust me."
And for some reason, she did.
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What am I doing? What the hell am I doing? Hermione's mind raced as she walked down the corridor with Malfoy. What if we're seen? What is he thinking?
Her small hand remained tucked inside his larger one and she slowed her step to fall in behind him. She felt safer that way. Hidden.
Voices sounded from somewhere nearby. Hermione choked on the air that was closing in around her. "Malfoy!" she said in a stage whisper.
He chuckled at her strangled tone. "Yes?"
"Can we just…"
But before she could finish her sentence, a group of students came into view and Malfoy was pulling her into the nearest cupboard.
"Better?" he asked in a voice that was too loud for Hermione's liking.
"Shh!" she warned straining her ears to hear any sign that the students had seen them.
Draco smirked. He found Hermione's paranoia quite amusing. "I think we're safe," he told her.
But she didn't seem to be listening. She stood with her ear to the door, totally engross in the goings on beyond it. She didn't even notice when Draco settled his palms on the space to either side of her head. She didn't flinch as he leaned in so close he could smell the soapy scent of her skin. She remained unaware as he lowered his body to feel her heat radiating.
After several minutes in which Draco hovered at a tortuous standstill, she spoke.
"I think they're gone," she whispered. "Do you?"
He breathed in deeply at the peachy skin of her neck. "Yes," he exhaled into her ear.
And suddenly she knew exactly where he was. Her breath caught in her throat and her skin prickled. She turned towards him and was instantly met with the urgent force of Draco's kiss. And like the others before it, the kiss was incredible.
She melted into him, giving back just as much as he was delivering. His warm mouth pressed into hers. Owning it. Declaring it his for the taking. And she relinquished control to his more practiced lips, enjoying the sensations-the softness of it all.
His arms closed her in. She felt them on her back and relished the feeling of being held. Her hands rested on his shoulders, squeezing and twisting in the material of his shirt. He slid his hands down her back to the underside of her legs and lifted her without breaking their kiss. Her legs wrapped around his back as he carried her a few steps back and sat down on some unknown surface.
He broke the kiss and moved his mouth down her jawline to the more sensitive parts of her neck. She could feel the scratchy stubble on his face that she normally could never see. She panted and sighed and couldn't hold even one breath back as his teeth and tongue explored her skin.
She opened her eyes for the first time since the kiss began and realized she was now straddling him on some sort of abandoned filing cabinet. She was glad for the darkness in the cupboard that hid her pink cheeks and with effort she pushed all thoughts of modesty from her mind. She'd wanted this. The heaving of her breast and the dampness between her thighs were a testament to that fact.
And suddenly she felt coolness on her stomach.
Her shirt had been opened around her tie that still hung down the center of her chest. She felt a warm hand palming her breast through her cotton bra. She felt the attentive mouth leave her neck and she pulled his head back to get him to stay. His mouth returned to her skin, but lower than it was before. He kissed and scraped his teeth against the fleshy spill of skin at the top of her breast.
She ran her hands up through his hair and closed her eyes to focus on the feeling of him caressing her body.
Soon his hands were encircling her own. Directing them down to some further place that she hadn't noticed was bulging and straining beneath their panting bodies. He groaned as she moved her hand along the zip of his pants and she smiled at the power she had over him. He tried to move his hand up under her skirt to reciprocate her actions, but she stopped him. She'd finally gotten a taste of control in this frenzied exploit and she didn't want to give it up. She cupped her fingers and pressed them into him, still too timid to open his pants and touch bare skin. He didn't seem to mind.
He rested his head against her still covered breasts and kissed and nipped as she worked on him below.
And then it was over. He was breathing heavily and sighing appreciatively into the crux of her neck, while she rested her head on his shoulder.
She didn't want to be the first to speak- to break the comfortable silence that had formed around their recovering bodies- but when a few minutes had passed and he still hadn't moved she took the initiative to sit up whisper a question.
"What time is it?" she asked embarrassed by the huskiness of her voice.
"Late, probably," he answered pushing up and feeling around for his wand.
"Right," she replied awkwardly. "We should probably get back to Binns." She squirmed a little to slide off of his lap.
"Yes, we probably should," he said smirking as he realized this was the best detention of his life.
The pair stood and fixed their clothes and made their way back to detention.
Upon entering the History of Magic classroom, neither were surprised to find their vaporous professor still asleep at his desk.
"Professor Binns," Draco said clearing his voice and approaching the ghost. "Professor, wake up."
Hermione blushed as she saw how wrinkly his shirt had become.
"Wha…What?" the old ghost said as his eyes blinked open suddenly. He looked around confusedly before realizing where he was. "Oh, yes. Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger! I seem to have nodded off."
"Yes, and it's quite late now, sir," Draco said. "We were wondering if we could be finished for the night."
"Oh, right. Yes, yes. I think that's a wonderful idea. I can't imagine keeping you out any later! You must be exhausted. Off you go." And with that Professor Binns rose into the air and floated off through the blackboard.
Hermione and Draco gathered their belongings and left the room together. This time Hermione had far too many thoughts spinning through her mind to worry about anyone seeing them.
"So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow," she told him when they reached the stairwell where she needed to go up and he down.
He turned to her with a strange look on his face and then poked her in the side. Hard.
"Ow!" she said rubbing the spot in between her ribs and hipbone that'd just been assaulted. "Why'd you do that?"
"Because you needed it. You're acting shy and I finally got you to open up. I'm not going to let you go up to your room and decide that tonight was a mistake."
Hermione smiled. It was true. She was letting the logical rationale that she'd worked so hard to suppress bubble to the surface.
"That's better," he said collecting her hand and threading his fingers through hers. "Now give me a kiss and be on your way."
And just like that she had a thing with Draco Malfoy.
I wonder. Will anyone be interested in the end of this story after book 7? After we know exactly what's in store for our favorite characters?
Movie 5 - meh, disappointing.
Next chapter: title "Hermione's Virginity" lots of fun DmHg action and a little jealousy and someone gets their memories back.