Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Harry Potter, except those that clearly aren't from J.K. Rowling's stories. And since I expect anyone reading this by now to be a complete HP aficionado, I'm sure you'll know which ones they are.
Chapter 6 — Action
Draco inhaled deeply as he stepped into the warmth of the Hogwarts kitchens. The house elves were already preparing tomorrow's breakfast, and the air was a delightful medley of cinnamon spice and maple syrup.
"Master Malfoy! Whatz is youz doing here?" A small elf asked, looking up at him in surprise.
"Good evening, Trixie," Draco said, setting his cloak aside. "I was having trouble sleeping…"
"Say no more, Master Malfoy! Trixie knowz whatz to do!"
She disappeared.
Draco surveyed the room lazily, watching the house elves' efficient preparations. His mouth watered as he observed a small group of them molding an enormous phoenix out of pure sugar.
Minutes passed. When was Trixie coming back? By some internal arrangement, it was always she who served him whenever he visited the kitchens, but he couldn't remember her ever taking this long before. As he scanned the room for the little elf, a pale green silhouette caught his eye. He thought it looked like…"Dobby?" he asked, but when he snapped his head around for a second look, the elf was gone. Draco shook his head, disbelieving. He must have been mistaken.
"Here'z you goez, Master Malfoy!" Trixie chirped happily, tugging at his shirt. She was holding a platter with a full glass of milk and steaming hot cookies.
"I just madez them, sir," she said shyly. "I hopez you likez?"
"Trixie, they're delicious!" Draco exclaimed happily, biting into a chocolate chip cookie. His mother was right — being nice to the house elves did pay off…especially for those in charge of the cooking. Draco wished his father would listen to her advice. Food at the Manor was terrible.
It took Draco ten minutes to eat his way through the heaped plate. When he was done, he sat back against the wall with a contented sigh.
"Will youz be wanting more?" Trixie asked eagerly.
"No, Trixie, that was quite enough. Thank you," Draco said, stretching out luxuriously. With a sigh, he reached down and picked up his cloak. "I'd better be getting back."
"Have a good nightz, sir!" Trixie waved before disappearing back into the crowd of cooking elves.
Draco wrapped the cloak tightly around himself, took one last breath of the sumptuous kitchen air, and then stepped out into Hogwarts' frigid halls.
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The sign on the door said "Prefect."
I'm a prefect, Hermione thought bitterly, and I don't have my own room.
It had taken her far too long to find Malfoy's room. Even with her feet spelled to silence, she was afraid that she would wake somebody up. She had been fortunate so far, but after half an hour's searching, she had failed to find Malfoy in any of the usual dorms. Hermione had almost given up hope when she found this room, buried in the deepest part of the Slytherin dungeons.
"Silencio," she muttered, and turned the knob. The door slid quietly open. A shaft of moonlight lit on the bed, and under the covers, she could just make out the top of a silvery-blond head. The academic in Hermione contemplated the moonlight, puzzled. That casement has to be enchanted. There's no way a window could exist this far underground.
She tiptoed over to the bed. It was Malfoy, all right. Satisfied that she was in the right place, she began to search the room for her friend.
"Harry," she whispered softly. "Harry, where are you?"
She almost missed him lying in the corner — his black pelt blended in perfectly with the shadows. She reached down to pick him up, but as soon as her hands touched him, his eyes shot open with a yowl.
"Silencio!" Hermione hissed, her eyes darting frantically to the boy in the bed. He slept on, unaware of the disturbance in his room.
The cat spat soundlessly at her, the fur on its back standing on end. Hermione considered just stunning him, but that would certainly wake the sleeping boy, as the effects of such a spell tended to be both loud and bright. And Malfoy not waking up was crucial to her plan. With a sigh, she slipped her wand into the pocket of her cloak and reached for the cat; it snarled and swiped at her with an extended claw. Crookshanks had taught her much about cats, however, and she dodged the paw nimbly enough, grabbing the cat by the waist with both hands.
"Come on, Harry!" Hermione gritted out, struggling to keep her purchase on the cat as he bucked in her grasp. "Just…come…with…me."
As the cat struggled in her arms, Hermione felt the cloak slip off of her and fall in a puddle on the floor. She was trying to determine how best to pick it up without losing her grip on the cat when a voice from behind her suddenly demanded, "What are you doing in my room?"
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Draco stood in the doorway, frozen in shock. He had reached his room almost without realizing it, his thoughts, strangely enough, centered on Dobby. The poor creature was just another casualty of father's cruelty. If Dobby had indeed found a new home at Hogwarts — and hadn't he heard the Mudblood mention something about him when she was going on about that S.P.E.W. thing? — then he was happy for the elf. Happy, that is, if such a term could be used to describe a Malfoy's feelings for one of the lesser species. Lost in his musings, Draco was startled to find himself outside the entrance to his room.
The door made no noise as he pushed it open. Strange, Draco thought, frowning slightly. It had always creaked rather loudly before.
Puzzling over this new development, it took a second for his eyes to fully register the strange sight that met him as he stepped into the room. There in a corner crouched Hermione Granger, struggling to hold onto the cat that was Harry Potter. At her feet lay the iridescent folds of an invisibility cloak.
"What are you doing in my room?" he choked out.
Hermione's head jerked around and her hand shot out for the cloak. The sudden movement caused her to lose her grip on the cat, which clawed at her as it leapt away, knocking her off balance. In an instant Draco was there, kicking the cloak out of the way. Hermione jumped to her feet only to find Draco with his wand out, pointed at her throat.
"I thought I sensed someone outside the common room entrance this evening," he said, advancing on her. Hermione backed away until she hit a wall. He was almost nose-to-nose with her now. Well, nose-to-forehead; Draco was several inches taller than she was. He saw the girl's eyes dart sideways as she sought a way out. "When I turned to look, no one was there. I thought it was just my imagination."
"Really?" she scathed. "I never would have guessed you had one."
Draco allowed the brief glimmer of a smile to crack his stolid countenance. "You have no idea," he said disconcertingly.
Her eyes shot to his face.
Draco stood there for a moment, rejoicing in his power over her. He was in control of this situation, and they both knew it. "Well, well, this is indeed an interesting development. Hermione Granger in my room. Really Granger, I didn't know you were that desperate. Although to be fair, I must insist you wait your turn. There is a list floating around here somewhere, if you're that interested…."
She quivered in rage, but for once kept her mouth shut.
"Did you honestly think," he asked her, turning suddenly sober, "that I had left Potter no instructions on what to do if someone tried to remove him without my permission? You are lucky you didn't manage to get him beyond my door."
"You're evil," Hermione snapped.
Draco shrugged. "That's a matter of opinion." He looked at her intently. "You know, Granger, things would go a lot easier on you and Potter if you would just listen to me," he opined.
"I'm not the one under the Imperius curse, Malfoy!" Hermione spat.
"No? I could remedy that," he murmured softly. Hermione could feel the heat of his breath against her forehead. "I recall that last time, you weren't able to throw it off so easily." Hermione blushed deeply as she recalled the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson their fourth year, and what the fake Moody had made her do.
"Don't think I enjoyed it Malfoy. I was under a spell. I would never in a thousand years want to kiss you again."
"Really? Yet Potter was able to oppose merely jumping onto a desk, while you did not even pause before carrying out a command you claim you loathed. Makes one wonder how much you truly tried to resist."
With a small scream of fury, Hermione swung at him with her fist; he caught her arm before she could touch him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her other hand come in; he caught that one, too. She struggled fiercely, trying to get away. He tightened his grip on her arms, leaning into her so that she was trapped between his body and the wall.
A rock and a hard place.
"I let you do that once before," he whispered softly in her ear. "Never again. Besides, I have something better than an Imperius curse. I have a hostage. And if you want him to stay a living hostage, you will learn to obey me, too."
Hermione spat in his face.
Malfoy stared at her. He didn't say anything. Hermione gloated at his shock, even as she feared his retaliation. A dribble of her spit touched the corner of his mouth. Suddenly, he leaned in and kissed her. Hermione's eyes widened in shock as his lips claimed hers; she could feel his body pressing into hers, his muscles rippling against her as he deepened the kiss. It was fourth year all over again, with her mind screaming at her to stop him, to hit him, to do something — and the rest of her perfectly content to kiss him right back.
It all stopped abruptly, and Hermione almost fell as his hands released her. Sometime in the last ten seconds, her knees had turned to Jell-O.
"I suggest," said Draco thickly, "that if you don't want Voldemort to get his hands on your little friend, you rethink your decision about how you treat me."
Hermione stared at him as he walked away from her and picked up the cloak. Was it her imagination, or was his voice a little hoarse?
"I want that back," she said quickly. Why was she having such trouble speaking?
"That's too bad," Malfoy said. He was running his fingers through its folds, but his eyes were distant, as if he didn't quite realize what he was doing. His fingers stopped as they found something in the pocket. He pulled it out.
"At least give me my wand," she demanded bitterly. He was examining it in the moonlight, tracing its contours lightly with his finger. She shuddered.
"Why, so you can hex me with it? You'll get it back in the morning." He looked up at her suddenly. "Why are you still here? Leave me."
"Without the cloak? What if someone sees me?" Hermione asked nervously. She was quivering. She told herself that it was because she was afraid to navigate the Slytherin dungeons sans cloak or wand.
"That's your problem isn't it?"
Hermione scowled, but there was nothing more she could do. "Goodnight, Harry," she whispered to the cat, which — now that it was not in danger of being forced to leave — licked her hand amiably. With a final glare in Malfoy's direction, Hermione stalked towards the door. She paused at the entrance as his voice spoke up behind her.
"Oh, and Granger — next time you want to visit my room, be sure to sign up first."
With an inward cry of outrage, Hermione slammed the door silently behind her.
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Draco sat on his bed for a long time, thinking about what he had done. Moody's command in their fourth year had shocked the entire classroom. The Gryffindors were appalled that their Golden Girl had kissed the "Ferret," none more so than Potter and Weasley; all had done their best to forget the incident. The Slytherins were a different story. Immediately after class, Draco had hunted them down and modified their memories so that they couldn't blab to the other students, and especially not to his father. Draco wasn't sure why he didn't want his father to find out, but it was something that he definitely wanted to avoid.
Draco could only guess what Lucius Malfoy's reaction would be if he knew what had transpired here tonight. He would probably disown me, Draco mused. Draco knew that he himself should be appalled that he had touched a Mudblood. In fact, he thought wryly, I should probably be scouring my mouth with soup and water. Yet the memory of her lips against his, and the feel of her body beneath his own, drove all other considerations from his mind.
Thinking back to Granger's reaction to his kiss, he wondered exactly what it was that Moody had told the girl to do.
Chapter 6 Summary:
Hermione tries to steal Harry from Draco's room, and Draco finds her there.