Disclaimer: I do not own Hermione Granger or Draco Malfoy. They belong to JK Rowling.
Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews! They are very encouraging, both my avid readers and my newcomers. It's great to know that people actually read and like what I am writing. Keep them coming… it encourages me to update quicker, I admit.
Second Author's Note: Smachimo the Trumpeteer is the name of my cat. He likes to type on my laptop. Unfortunately, it is usually at the same time that I am trying to type as well. I felt that he deserved a spot in one of my stories, due to his avid interest in my Harry Potter fanfiction addiction.
It was six o'clock that evening. Hermione stood in front of the six-story building on a side street three blocks away from campus. Malfoy had opted not to stay in the dorms, apparently. Red brick covered the outside. Two flats were on each floor, with the top floor being one large flat. Each apartment had its own balcony, and Hermione suspected the largest flat had a rooftop patio. She wasn't surprised to learn that Draco's flat was the large one on top.
Climbing the stairs, Hermione found herself in front of an ornate mahogany door. She pulled out the parchment that Draco had sent over to her via owl with directions on how to enter the flat.
Granger,
Meet me at my place at eight o'clock, after dinner. 395 Front Street, London. No. #11.
Pull out your wand, and tap the nose of the gargoyle three times. Recite "Penetro Domus Draconis"
and you will hear a bell. I'll open the door for you.
Draco
P.S. Don't knock! If you do, something bad will happen and I don't feel like spending my evening at
St. Mungo's!
She did as instructed, and a moment later, Malfoy had opened the heavy door.
"Granger," he nodded in greeting, stepping aside to allow her entrance.
Hermione hesitated a moment before entering the flat. She felt like she was stepping into the dragon's lair, the tiger's cage, the enemy's territory. Telling herself that she was being silly, she walked into Malfoy's flat.
She peered around, curious of Malfoy's taste. The flat was very modern, with hardwood floors, white walls, and contemporary art on the walls. No curtains covered the floor-to-ceiling windows and the last rays of sunlight poured into the room. A half wall divided the small kitchen from the living area. The furniture was simple and square. A fifty inch flat screen TV covered one wall. She noticed a gray and white striped cat lounging on an ottoman in the middle of the room.
Hermione was a bit surprised. Flat screen TV? When had Malfoy decided to play with muggle inventions? And, she was pretty sure that the furniture was muggle-made. A small part of her wasn't surprised. The room was decorated with finely-made, expensive items. It was slightly cold, not really a home. More like a place that someone resided. She wondered how large the place actually was.
"Nice crib," she said, nodding, continuing to observe her surroundings. She stopped abruptly and asked, "What 'bad' thing would happen to me if I knocked instead of following the directions?"
Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "Your fingernails and toenails would start growing at a rate of one centimeter per second and turn purple."
Hermione stared at him. "Malfoy," she said after a moment, a disgusted expression twisting across her countenance. "That's gross."
He grinned. "I know. I figured it would be a real turn off to some of my relatives. Dear old Dad still hasn't figured out the password. He keeps showing up with boils in unmentionable places or bogeys that won't go away. It's very effective in keeping the folks out."
Hermione rolled her eyes, walked further into the room, and dumped her book bag onto the coffee table. Pulling her coat off her form, she slung it over the back of the couch, placing the scarf inside one of its pockets. She still wore the sweater from earlier that day. She set her hands on her hips and examined the room further. "Not bad." She crouched down next to the ottoman and reached gingerly towards the feline who lay there. "Who's this?"
She let the cat sniff her fingers before slowly reaching to pet its head. She crooned nonsense words to it as she pet its head, and scratched behind its ears.
"That's Smachimo," said Draco, watching her seduce the animal. "Be careful. He bites."
Without warning, the cat playfully grabbed Hermione's hand with both front paws and sunk its teeth into her hand. She yelped and pulled away. "You little sucker," she mumbled, shaking her hand.
"How did he get a name like that?" she asked, warily extending her hand out again to pet him.
"It's from an American cartoon show," he explained. "His full name is Smachimo the Trumpeteer." He headed towards the kitchen, passing by a dining table, turning several lights on as he went. "I found him in an alley. He was a stray kitten, only six weeks old."
Hermione laughed, stroked the cat's head one last time and followed Malfoy into the kitchen.
He was pulling a bottle of red wine out of a rack. Placing it on the counter, he uncorked it and pulled down several glasses. "Would you like some?"
"Sure," agreed Hermione. She watched him pour two generous glasses before handing one over to her.
"Cheers," he said, tipping his glass towards hers. They clinked. Hermione and Malfoy both sipped their wine. She felt as if a truce was forming between the two of them.
Malfoy broke the silence. He exited the kitchen, picking up his books and his wand from the dining room table and said, "So, I was thinking that we should start with Charms."
Hermione smothered a laugh. "You just want your notes back." She set down her glass on a side table in the living room and pulled her bag open. "You're becoming predictable in your old age." Several papers rustled as she hunted through several notebooks before finding what she wanted. Drawing a notebook and her wand out of the bag, she examined it before turning to show him the papers. "Here are your Charms notes. Are you ready to give me back my lab from today?"
Malfoy examined the papers from afar. In his own hands, he held Hermione's lab book. "All right. On the count of three, we exchange. Ready?" Hermione nodded. "One, two, three…"
"Accio!" both of them cried. Their respective papers flew into their hands.
"You didn't trust me!" exclaimed Hermione, double-checking to make sure everything was as it should be.
"Of course not! Why would I?" Malfoy glanced over his notes once before shuffling them into a pile of books that he had pulled out from his bag. "You didn't trust me. I didn't expect you to."
Hermione just shook her head at him. "Let's start or else we'll be here all night."
"Tsk, tsk, Granger. I thought your idea of an exciting night was studying until you fell asleep on your books," teased Malfoy.
"Screw you," said Hermione, without any venom. "I usually don't mind, but I have to walk back to campus, remember?"
Malfoy shrugged. Imitating her, he organized his notes in front of him so they could begin working. "Have you started studying for the History test next Thursday?"
Hermione shook her head. "I'm not as worried about that one. Most of that information is pretty straightforward. How about Maladies? Have you started the essay?"
Malfoy nodded. "I have about three feet of it done. I chose 'Aches and Pains of Middle-Aged Witches'. It was easy. I cited my mother in half of the essay."
Hermione gave Malfoy an incredulous look. "And you think that will hold up well with Professor Porthouse?"
Malfoy snorted. "Of course. The two of them are bosom buddies. I've known Melba since I was five years old. She fixed my first case of Harrowing Hiccups, and my mother was so impressed at how quickly she did it that she called her back for every little twinge that any of us felt."
Hermione paused in her perusal of Intermediate Charms. "That is one of the most ridiculous things I have ever heard."
"I know," he agreed. "But, that's the way my mother is. Why are you even taking Common Emergencies?" He pointed to the text book on the table next to her.
"I have a secret, Malfoy," she said quietly. She waved him closer; he leaned towards her. She waved him even closer; he was inches from him now. She said dryly, "In case you didn't realize, I'm muggleborn. I didn't grow up in a Wizarding household. Therefore, I don't know the Common Emergencies found in Wizarding Households."
"That was obnoxious," stated Malfoy, pulling away.
"I'm learning from the best," she responded glibly.
They continued their banter throughout the evening, studying several subjects while doing so. They wrote a conclusion for the lab that they had completed that day, exchanged their Maladies essays to correct each other's, and then quizzed each other for the History test. Hermione had to admit, but only to herself, that Malfoy was a much better study partner than either Harry or Ron ever were.
Hermione had curled herself into a ball on the sofa, a green cashmere blanket wrapped around her feet. She had removed her shoes long ago; they lay on the floor next to her. Her hair had eventually found its way up to her ever-present ponytail. Malfoy had taken up residence on the floor. He lay on his back, his legs resting on the sofa, his hands occupied with a cat toy. The animal had crept closer to his owner and was eyeing the toy unwaveringly. Every now and then he would swat at it.
Hermione was reading Malfoy questions from a book that rested in her lap. She took a sip out of her second glass of wine as she asked, "What year was the first magical hospital founded in Britain and why was it significant?"
Malfoy threw the toy to the far end of the room. Smachimo frantically scrambled after it, took it in his mouth and raced back to his master. He dropped the toy on Malfoy's stomach, and eagerly waited for a repeat performance. Malfoy obliged, casually tossing the object once again.
"Malfoy?" said Hermione, watching this exchange. "Malfoy, are you even paying attention?"
His head shot up in confusion. "What? Can you repeat the question?"
Hermione slammed the book shut. "I think we're done for tonight." She glanced at the silver watch on her left wrist. "Oh, wow. We really are done. It's midnight. I didn't realize it was this late." She began to collect her things, shoving them into her book bag.
"You know, you can sleep over here, if you want." The words seemed to pop out of Malfoy's mouth before he really thought them through.
Hermione colored slightly, her mind wandering to thoughts that she didn't think he had intended. "Um, that's okay," she mumbled as she put her shoes back on her feet.
He stood up gracefully and stretched. He had discarded his sweater a while ago, and his t-shirt rode up to reveal a flat, toned stomach. He didn't seem to notice her discomfort. "Are you sure? I've got plenty of room." He gestured towards the hallway which led to his sleeping quarters. When he caught sight of her face, he grinned knowingly. "Well, I didn't mean you'd be staying in my room, but if you're interested…" He let his voice trail off.
"I knew what you meant, Malfoy," she said wryly. "I'll be fine. I will use your bathroom before I leave, though." He walked her to the bathroom and continued down the hallway to his own bedroom.
Hermione walked into the bathroom, amazed but not surprised at the beautiful décor. After seeing to her needs, she washed her hands and splashed some water on her face. She yanked the rubber band out of her hair, massaging her head through the mass of curls. She was sure that she had been as red as a tomato when he had mentioned sleeping over. For a moment, the idea of snuggling into bed with Draco Malfoy had seemed perfectly irresistible. She wasn't exactly in the mood to face the bitter cold outside, and she was quite comfortable being around him right now. And she liked the way he smelled. She vaguely wondered what it would feel like to rest her head on his shoulder and cuddle up with him, caressing his bare skin in the process.
No, she scolded herself. Snap out of it! You can not be thinking those thoughts. This is Draco Malfoy, remember him?
Sighing, Hermione opened the door and headed into the living room. Malfoy had changed into flannel pajama bottoms and a new t-shirt. His hair was tousled, and he yawned. There was something extremely sexy about perfect, not-a-hair-out-of-place Draco Malfoy standing in his living room with his pajamas on.
Hermione threw her coat on and slung her back pack on her right shoulder. She needed to get out of this place, and she needed to do it now. Before she did something that she regretted.
Say goodnight and go, she said to herself. It's Malfoy. Just say goodnight and go.
She headed towards the entrance of the apartment, not looking at him. Draco followed her, unlocked the door, and opened it for her.
She turned to say goodbye to him, and suddenly realized that he was within arm's reach of her. She raised her eyes to meet his smoky grey ones, and time stopped. Perhaps it was the wine or her tiredness. She wasn't really sure. Before she knew what she was doing, Hermione cupped her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down to her.
Their lips met, yielding and warm. Hermione moaned softly. He tasted so good, like the wine they had just shared. His tongue sought entrance, and she opened her mouth willingly. They explored each other. Hermione pressed her body against his, reveling in his hard body and the heat emanating from him.
Maybe that was the thought that made her stop. And wrench herself away from him. Her eyes were wild and scared.
"G…g…goodnight!" she cried, whirling around and hurling herself down the steps of his home. Why had she just done that? What had possessed her to kiss him? And kiss him like that? Like she was starving and only he could satisfy her every need?
She groaned as she reached the bottom of the building. Walking as quickly as she could, she made it across the street before she found a few bushes that hid her from Malfoy's view. She needed to compose herself. She turned to stare up at his flat.
It was dark outside, and the lights remained turned on in his living room. She could see him standing there, watching for her. He turned away, and plopped himself down on his couch. Relaxed and reclining, he turned on the flat screen TV and flicked through the channels.
Hermione turned and started walking back to her dorm. What had she just done?