CHAPTER 6: Revelations

Draco hated it when he woke up in the middle of the night. He supposed that it was punishment for going to sleep so early. Though his rest had been satisfying up until this particular moment, he knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep anytime soon. A quick look at the clock showed that it was a bit after midnight.

Draco sighed heavily. The last few times he'd woken up in the night, he'd refused to leave the safety of his dormitory and head to his favourite refuge just in case Hermione was there. Perhaps it was cowardly, but Draco didn't trust himself around her anymore. He didn't mind being a coward.

But he had a good feeling about tonight; thinking about leaving for the kitchens didn't fill him with nerves as it usually did, so he quietly got out of bed and snuck out. Once he'd softly shut the dormitory door behind him, he cursed himself. It wasn't appropriate to go running about the castle in nothing but pyjama pants and socks, he'd probably freeze before he reached his destination. But going back into the dorm would only cause unnecessary noise, and anybody could wake up and start asking questions. Draco decided against going back for a shirt. The cold would exhaust his body, if nothing else, making it easier to go back to sleep when he returned to bed.

The cold was much harsher on his skin than he'd anticipated, but Draco gritted his teeth and continued. The portrait swung closed behind him, the grumpy man snoring softly. Making his way through the dark dungeons, Draco's heart nearly leapt into his throat when he saw the figure of Professor McGonagall up ahead. It took him a moment to realise she was heading away from him, not coming towards him. Draco rolled his eyes at his own stupidity and followed her quietly until he reached the turn off that led towards the Hufflepuff common rooms - and the kitchens.

Tickling the pear was the easy part. Opening the door wasn't so. Draco hesitated in front of it, his good feeling receding. What if Hermione was inside? Would she ignore him, insult him? Be nice to him? Draco didn't know what he'd do in any situation that arose with her in it.

A scuffling to Draco's left made up his mind for him. He straightened his shoulders and pushed open the door gently. The heat of the kitchen washed over him enticingly.

And there she was. Draco gulped and nearly backed out the door again. Hermione was at the sink, singing softly to herself. It had covered the noise of his entrance.

You're a Malfoy, Draco told himself. It's time to act like one.

Draco crept inside, watching Hermione carefully. Her back was still to him and as he watched, she shrugged off her emerald dressing gown. Draco regarded it carefully, noticing how she left it on the floor like it was nothing, like she didn't care if it got dirty. His eyes trailed back from the gown up her pale legs, which were covered with barely-there black shorts, up her torso (a red tank top), over her hair which was tied into a loose ponytail.

Draco shut the door noisily, clearing his throat to announce himself. Hermione spun around, her hand flying to her throat.

"Oh, Draco, it's just you," Hermione sighed in relief. "Thank Merlin for that."

Draco almost bristled at 'just you', as if he wasn't important enough for her, but he let it be. She'd returned to the sink and Draco moved smoothly to the table, leaning his hip on it. He watched Hermione openly, admiring the way her hips swayed when she moved, how her hair flew when she turned her head, how her toes clenched every so often.

Draco considered the possibility that he was going mad, thinking of her like this. It's the way one would appraise art, noticing every detail and knowing they were all important. It wasn't a suitable way to look at girls, let alone a Gryffindor, a muggle-born, a third of the golden trio.

But how often did Draco indulge in his guilty pleasures? If Blaise was here, he'd be encouraging Draco to go full steam ahead and do whatever made him happy. Draco decided that Blaise was right.

Somewhere in the middle of Draco's thoughts, Hermione had turned around and was now watching him. She looked slightly amused, if a little uncomfortable.

"Something wrong?" she asked lightly. Draco shrugged.
"Not really," he said. "Been a long time since we've had a one-to-one chat, don't you think?"
Hermione ignored his sarcastic tone. "We have classes together, you know," she pointed out. Draco rolled his eyes.
"Yes, because those are so great with Weaselbee around," Draco retorted.

Hermione frowned. She seemed to be debating with herself. Finally, she spoke.

"You shouldn't be so rude to him," she said. "He's my friend."
"Well he's not mine," Draco said. "And even if he was, I'd still be rude to him. I'm rude to everybody."
"I've noticed," Hermione said dryly.

Draco didn't want to start a conversation that included himself as the focal point, so he changed the topic.

"What are you eating?" he asked. He was curious; her untouched plate was holding a small white thing with fruit covering the top. Draco hadn't seen anything like it before.
"It's a mini pavlova," Hermione said. "Made it myself. Do you want to try some?"
"What does it taste like?" Draco asked. He eyed it suspiciously; it looked like it should taste pretty bland, and Draco didn't like food with no flavour.
"Just try it," Hermione encouraged, indicating that he should take her fork and help himself. Draco did so, cracking the pavlova shell into tiny pieces accidentally. He took a bite.

"It's sweet," Draco said in surprise. Hermione glowed.
"My mum taught me how to make it when I was younger," she said with a smile. "There's more if you want some."

Draco shook his head. He hadn't come into the kitchen to eat. Hermione shrugged and helped herself to her food, using the same fork as if Draco's germs weren't all over it. Or maybe that didn't bother her.

"Did you want to sit down?" Draco asked suddenly. He didn't think that the pavlova would be easy to eat standing up. Hermione smiled and nodded, moving to the table. Draco pulled out a chair for her, then moved to the opposite side to sit. He noted Hermione was blushing slightly, but she was smiling at her plate. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, she broke it.

"It's unnerving watching you watch me eat," she blurted.
"Do you want me to stop?" Draco smirked.

Hermione didn't answer, but finished the last of her snack. Her plate and fork were the only things out on the otherwise clean metal table. She leaned back in her chair, curling her feet up underneath her.

"What's up with your friend, Zabini?" she wondered.

That was not what Draco expected her to say. "Huh?" he asked, then berated himself. Surely he could have thought of something a little better than that.

"The way he looks at me… It's unnerving. Like I'm an anomaly."

Draco scowled. Blaise had been looking at Hermione more often lately, trying to see what it was Draco saw in her, no doubt. Before Draco could think of a clever answer, he noticed her shiver.

"Cold, are you?"
"If I'm cold, you must be freezing," Hermione pointed out. She rubbed her forearms quickly, gathering friction. Draco rolled his eyes and got out of his chair, gathering up her dressing gown from where she'd left it on the ground.
"Put this on," he told her, handing it out to her. Hermione took it gingerly.
"You're wearing less than I am, perhaps you should wear it," she suggested, amusement flickering in her eyes.
"Not a chance," Draco laughed. "I wouldn't be caught dead in a dressing gown like that."
"There's nothing wrong with it," Hermione huffed. After slinging it around her arms and tying it around her waist deftly, Hermione studied Draco's torso. "Are you really not cold?" she asked.
"I can handle a bit of chill," Draco replied.

Hermione laughed at him. Her smile was contagious; Draco felt the corners of his mouth lifting up in return.

"What are you laughing at?" Draco asked, his involuntary smile softening his face. Hermione regarded him carefully, sniggering.
"It never fails to amaze me how boys will never admit to a weakness. Harry and Ron do it all the time."
"Oh," Draco said, his smile dropping.

It had to be a record for them though, to go so long without mention of Draco's childhood enemies. Hermione picked up on his mood shift.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at him. Draco immediately felt uneasy. Nothing good ever came out of questions like that.
"You just did, but I suppose you can ask another," he teased, attempting to ease the tension in his stomach unsuccessfully.
"And you have to promise to be honest," Hermione urged.

Merlin, even worse. There was no way Draco was going to promise that.

"Okay," he said slowly. He cursed himself for being a massive idiot.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, a move Draco found enticing. "I see the way you look at me," she said, picking at the end of her gown's sleeve. She pulled a loose thread.
"That's not a question," Draco pointed out once it was clear she wasn't going to say anything further.
"You know what I'm getting at, please don't make me ask," Hermione murmured.

Unknowingly, she'd given Draco ammunition against her. He could be a massive dick right now and throw it in her face, spreading rumours around the school about how Hermione bloody Granger actually believed that Draco was into her. He could destroy her in a day. Once upon a time, he might have.

Blaise's face ran through Draco's mind. He was telling Draco that he didn't have to push everything good away, and that he could indulge every once in a while. That it wouldn't be the end of the world if he was just honest with her.

"I've seen the way you look at me too," Draco said in response. Hermione looked up curiously, raising her brows.
"How do I look at you?" she asked.
"Like you don't hate me."
"Ditto."
Draco sighed. "Is there any point in denying what you're getting at?"
"No," Hermione smiled. "Don't even get me started on that love potion accusation ages ago."

Draco groaned inwardly. Of course, he'd forgotten about that. That's where his leverage disappeared; though he could spread rumours about Hermione being into him, she could easily return the favour. It was he, after all, who'd confronted her at the start.

There was nothing else for it. Full steam ahead.

"What do you want me to say, Hermione?" Draco asked, shrugging helplessly.
"I just want to know that I'm not crazy and that you feel something too," Hermione admitted quietly. She was blushing profusely now, thoroughly uncomfortable. She wasn't the only one.

Desperate for something to do, Draco took Hermione's plate and rinsed it in the sink.

"You're not crazy," he said over the sound of running water. Hermione was silent behind him, and he wondered if she'd heard him over the extra noise. He kind of hoped she hadn't.

Draco dried his hands before turning around to face her. Her blush had disappeared and seemed to be holding back a smile. Noticing that he was watching her, Hermione stood and retied her gown tightly.

"That's good to know," she said cheerily. "Thank you for being honest."
"No problem," Draco said hesitantly.

Hermione was way too calm about this. Surely she wasn't going to just leave it be now? Was the confirmation really all she wanted from him? Whatever her plans were, she was now ready to exit the kitchen. Draco wasn't ready for that.

"Wait," he called, hurrying over to her. "That's it? That's all you wanted?"
"Is that not enough?" Hermione asked doubtfully. Her hands were twisting in front of her; Draco gently pulled them apart, pushing them towards the wall behind Hermione so she couldn't move them back.

Draco didn't understand what he was doing. He was torn. They could never happen, any relation between the two of them would kill them if anybody found out. But Draco was tempted to indulge even further, and Merlin it was only the kitchen, what happened here didn't leave here… it'd be their little secret. Blaise would approve.

"Don't you want something a little more?" Draco breathed, gently pulling out Hermione's ponytail. Her breathing hitched. Draco didn't wait for an answer. He bent and brushed his lips against hers. At the contact, warmth ran through his body. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Draco's hands trailed down the soft fabric of her gown and untied it deftly.

It was one kiss. He could afford to indulge a little. Everything would return to normal soon enough.