Everything about you is how i'd want to be - your freedom comes naturally.
Everything about you is so easy to love, they're watching you from above.
Give me, all that peace and joy in your mind.
- Bliss, Muse
I need to finish off this question, but the phone is ringing.
Should I answer it?, I ask myself as I veer my eyes from my page to the cell phone lying on the bed. I never use it, but maybe it's important, oh screw it.
I scribble down the last 5 words and make a mad dash towards my emergency flip phone.
Click.
"Hello?"
"Hermione?"
"Oh hi, Andrea!" I didn't even know she had my number!
"Hey girl, doing okay by yourself?"
I spent last afternoon and night, after my parents left, attempting to respond to some of the questions McGonagall gave us on spare parchment – it was very odd mixing Muggle words and terms, especially concerning music, with such Wizarding staples; quills and ink.
"Yes, I'm just fine. You? I kept myself preoccupied with work, doing some now actually. Have Mum and Dad called you yet?" Andrea came by with the car after dropping off my parents at King's Cross to quickly chit chat before she went home to catch up on some office things.
"I'm fabulous as always. And no," she replies disappointed. "But granted, they're taking a train to a freaking dental convention, you know how they are about that. Plus it took about 6 hours to get there; they would've gotten to the rooms maybe at 11 pm? They were probably too tired, and this morning just had to meet everyone in the hotel and since Helen gave you her cell, she wouldn't have that on her, right?"
"I suppose you're right I'm just – "
RING RING RING
"Oh, hold on, this might be them, the house line is ringing."
"That's why I called you on this phone, sweetie." I run to my dresser and grab it.
I put the pink flip down onto my bed and press "Talk". Blast, I wish we had Caller ID.
"Hello, Granger residence?"
On the other end I just hear crackling and then still silence. Darn, probably just telemarketers, taking too long to connect the call. I pick up the phone again.
"Not them."
"Aww, well I'm sure they'll call soon, I mean it's nearly 12 so they're bound to have lunch, right?"
"Yeah," I sigh. "Well, I'll let you know if they call…"
"Ditto! They're fine, love, don't worry. Also, you've gotta tell me what happens today with your man, okay? Is he there yet perchance?"
"Andrea!" I giggle, "He's not my 'man'."
"Oh come off it, you had a whole life changing conversation just to talk to me about him and how you feel, you want his babies!"
"No I don't!" I reply appalled, laughing uncontrollably now.
"Yes you do! You want blonde, Armani wearing bouncy little –"
I feel a rap on my bedroom window and jump a foot in the air. I swivel around, Andrea now singing a juvenile song, to see Errol!
"Andrea, sorry, you'll have to hold on again, there's an owl for me at the window."
"A what?"
"A letter," I correct myself. "You know, wizarding mail!"
"Oh my god, really? At your window? You sure you aren't just making out with Dra-"
"NO!" I shake my head and open the latch to let the old bird inside, Crookshanks pouncing into the room to mew at him, probably out of recognition.
"Hi, Errol, safe flight?" He has two letters attached to his leg. One from Ginny, and I think one from Harry based on the handwriting. I pull the string and set them down on the desk for later, and go to pick up the phone to tell Andrea I need to get the poor guy some water.
RING RING RING.
Oh for heaven's sake.
Andrea can wait.
"Hello?"
"*CRACKLE* Hermione, sweetheart is that you?" Mum!
"Mum! Yes, yes, did you just call?"
"Yes! Oh this line is horrible. This town is very small, the phone lines were shot down by a storm last night, knew I should've brought my cell, but alas! We've had a wonderful time so far, met lots of people. We borrowed this lady from Worcestershire's phone! Isn't that so nice of her?" Relief spreads through me and I chuckle at mum.
"Yes, very nice. I'm glad you're okay, I was getting worried. I'm talking to Andrea so I'll let her know you're fine!"
"Oh thank you dear, that's wonderful, tell her thanks so much! And don't you worry about us, Dad's finally calmed down about having a boy in the house," she laughs. "We probably should go soon, though - Darrell say hello!" I hear a slight tussling. "Hello Hermione, dear! How are, hey! - Okay, that's enough, don't want to rack up the phone bill," I can hear dad harrumph in the background. "Just wanted to check in, lunch is just starting so we're going to see Betty and Davis, remember them? From when you were little? Oh probably not, anyways small world huh! Love you, luv! Good bye! *CLICK*"
They are utterly ridiculous.
I pick up the flip once more, "Sorry! Parents just called."
"Oh, lovely! They got in okay?"
"Yes, fine, they said the phone line's suck out there. Um, sorry about this but you may have to hang on again. I'm going to get Errol, Ron's owl, some water. So I might sound a little distant for a second." I continue to talk as I wander down to the main floor.
"Oh, it's Ron's owl? Is the letter from him?"
"No, from Ginny. And Harry, I think. Ron probably doesn't want to cross the line."
"No I would imagine not. Sigh, you're so lucky you have men after you!"
"Oh, it's really not all it's cracked up to be," I say seriously. Ugh.
"Liar! Three guys, one smoking hot chick, who will she choose? Dun dun dunnnnn, hahahaha."
I roll my eyes as I pour water in a cup from the sink and balance the phone between my shoulder and ear, then walk to bring it back upstairs.
I'm halfway up the steps when the doorbell rings.
"Oh, what now," I say. "Andrea someone's at the door. It's probably Malfoy."
"Probably! Do you look good? Does he look hot?"
"I don't know!" I reply, my heart pumping into overdrive. " I need to give Errol his water. But I don't want to be rude, keep him waiting. Ah."
"Don't panic! Maybe I'd better go then, stop being a distraction, call me later? Tell me about your boy toy! Tell me what he's wearing, NO! Text me! Oh my god, yes, genius. Please! Please, please, please!"
I sigh. "As long as I can erase the messages, and you destroy all evidence."
"Deal."
DING DONG.
I hurry down the steps, switching the phone into my left hand, nervous. "Okay, I really have to go, he's getting impatient. Thanks for calling!"
"Not a problem. Don't be nervous, love! Bye, text me ASAP."
I close the phone and place it on the table by the stairs. I smooth out my clothes before I open the door, hyperventilating about my appearance, letting the anxiety seep in.
I didn't try so hard today, I really looked different Friday, I went overboard and I want to be more relaxed, more comfortable. So I have on another dress, navy blue, with red buttons. It's quite flowy and it reaches the top of my knees; it's one that Andrea gave me actually. But I have a cream cord belt around my waist to give the illusion I have a bit of a shape, but it's not revealing.
Is that a good thing?
Too late now, just open the door.
I turn the handle and try to ready myself. But immediately when I see Malfoy, oh god, it's plain I didn't brace myself enough.
Well, he's not wet today.
His hair lacks its usual perfectness, but it works because it goes with his overall fashion choice. He has on a plain white shirt, nice grey trousers and a burgundy leather jacket that screams 'perpetual bad boy' to me. In other words, he's very attractive.
His face looks somewhat tired, red eyes and some black circles, but he's smirking lightly, as always. The kicker in all this is that of course he smells divine. And if I wasn't so afraid of giving myself away, I'd ask what it was he was wearing.
I feel so inadequate next to him all the time, it bothers me so much. Because even though his clothing is nice, he basically looks like crap. But still looks about a thousand times better than I could ever hope to achieve.
"Hi," I say, my voice strangled.
"Uh, Hi." He's holding his bag and slouching slightly, looking just as uneasy as I feel.
"Going to let me in or?" he says with a nervous chuckle, smirking wider now, and I realize I'm mesmerized. With my stupid gawky hands holding the door and frame, blocking him.
"Of course," I say, trying to be delicate as I move out of the way, and guiding him inside.
I notice the water cup again, suddenly realizing Errol is still in my room. Crap.
"Make yourself at home, I need to just go do something, quickly. Will only be a moment!"
"Alright…"
I scramble to the kitchen and grab the water before he can get another word in, hurrying up past him to my room, and closing the door.
He probably thinks I'm mad. I probably am mad.
WHY am I such a nervous wreck? What happened to steely-faced Hermione?
"Here you go sweetheart, drink up!" I say, shoving the water on the table, trying to hurry the owl a bit, and trying to find some food for him. No spare mice around obviously, hmm.
Errol slurps gratefully at the water, but I have nothing else except cat treats.
"Errol, I have nothing to eat for you," I say frustrated, shaking my hands while frantically searching for something. He hoots sadly. Aww!
"Um, maybe, maybe…do you want cat treats?" Shaking his head.
"Okay, no….uhm if you want to hunt in the garden that's okay? I know it's midday but…" He hoots annoyed, pecking the window; it would seem he's holding great displeasure towards me and wants to leave. I feel really bad.
And then, like a lightning strike to my brain, I realize I'm a witch. For heaven's sake.
I grab the cat treats and my wand from the desk.
"Noctua Replensio," I incant, and miraculously the little dry squares inside the bag transform into pellets for bird consumption.
Thank god. I shove them in his face, while he hoots his thanks happily and I open the window. He puts his foot out for a letter and I realize that I'm an idiot and he needs something to take back.
Why does Malfoy have to be punctual? Why do I keep asking myself stupid questions!
I rip open Ginny's letter, Harry's is obviously more important but I can't deal with it right now, and sit at my desk, reading as quickly as I can.
Dear Hermione,
Hi! How are you? I'm delivering this Sunday, hopefully Errol doesn't take too long though he can be a menace sometimes. Just checking in, it's only been a few days but Ron's been driving me absolutely insane. Really misses your company, he says. Afraid Malfoy'll 'make a move'. Harry is sending you a letter too, I don't know why, but sometimes I just don't care to ask questions. Just wanted to make sure you're well.
Also, hoping Malfoy isn't a git, and that you're being fabulous as always! If there's a problem, I'll make someone Apparate me over to your house immediately as the letter gets here and kick some butt. Miss you! If anything exciting happens, I want to know that too!
Ginny xxoo
PS: I didn't realize how much I like having you over here until you aren't, the two BFF's here can get quite buddy buddy and annoying, maybe you can visit? Wishful thinking, don't feel guilty if you can't, ciao!
She misses me? Oh, that's so sweet! I miss her too. And I find I do miss Ron.
I miss Harry.
They ground me, I'm so crazy without them. But I am here for a reason. And god forbid Malfoy does 'make a move', it's none of Ron's business, or anyone's really, of what comes of it.
That being said, I'm kind of dreading reading Harry's letter. I want to get it over with, but I have a feeling it's going to be full of overprotective drivel, and honestly, that it'll be mostly the truth.
Suddenly a bump sounds from the kitchen and I realize Malfoy is unattended in my house, and that reality needs me.
I quickly gather some pink parchment and a nice envelope to make up for my probably poor note, and scrawl;
Ginny,
Everything is A-ok! Malfoy was over, nothing too major, and he wasn't too much of a git actually. He'll be over today which is why this is so quick and short, sorry! Need to prep the house, get my material together! Maybe I can visit soon, we'll see how long this project takes.
Love always,
Hermione
PS: Give Harry & Ron my regards, tell Harry I'll reply soon, but yours was more important anyways. Oh! Malfoy chose my musical selection for the project, isn't that odd? That was our deal, he comes here and he gets to pick who we write up on. Trying to figure that one out still! Any thoughts?
I tie up the letter nice, give it to the now happy Errol and just like that, he flies out of the room. Problem solved.
I hate lying to Ginny about Malfoy, or maybe hiding is the operative word. But she'll just freak and tell Harry, bad ideas all around.
"AUGGH!" A screech of pure pain resonates from my living room. Malfoy.
Taking no time to think, I clutch my wand, and soar out of my bedroom, preparing myself for the worst.
A million ideas pop into my mind about what could possibly be hurting him down there, that when I reach the staircase, I forget to grab the handrails.
I am striding down the winding steps so quickly that I lose my balance and skid right on my heels along the last few steps. I reach out to hold something, anything, dropping my wand in the process and it falls beneath me. I hit the wooden floor and fling forward, rolling my foot over top of my wand, catching my body on the table, and hitting head on the wall behind it because the force was so great.
I groan as I fall onto the ground, feeling the wind knocked out of me, and clutching my stomach, completely embarrassed and in pain.
Through my blurry vision spotted with unknown flashes and colours, I see Malfoy's shocked face and Crookshanks hissing at him. He's leaning against the arm of my couch, my cat's claws piercing his leg, rendering him unable to move.
"Ow."
I fucking hate cats.
Jesus Christ. This, this beast sidles up to me as Granger acts like a loony running up the stairs with some water for unknown reasons. I don't do a single fucking thing to it, it rubs my legs getting cat hair all over it and then decides I'm a burglar or something and starts to hiss at me.
Right now, I don't know what to do . It's set in attack mode, it's back is arced and -
"AUGGH!" It just dug its claws into my bloody leg.
"Holy shit!," I growl between my teeth. I try pushing the cat not-so-gently off me, but it snarls at me, a pure evil guttural sound.
What the hell do I do?
Noise is thundering from upstairs; what is Granger doing?
And then out of nowhere I hear the loud rumble of footsteps, and I see from my view of the top floor that Granger is ambling like a soldier on a mission down the spiraled staircase. Only to lose her footing and stumble, and slam herself hard, thumping onto the table.
She tumbles to the floor, holy fuck. She's clutching her head, Merlin I hope she didn't concuss herself.
"Ow." She croaks. She attempts weakly at lifting herself up, but she resigns immediately and puts her hands over her face.
What do I do? I can't bloody move. There's only one horrifying option left.
"Sorry cat," I say.
In a move I know I'll regret, I kick my leg out surprising the freaking lion attached to my limb, and it flies into the air, only to land on its feet.
It hisses once more before it canters out to who knows where, while blood seeps down my leg. I don't worry or even think about it though; I'm too busy rushing over to Granger.
Hobbling is more like it. I bend down and tap her arm.
"Granger, you alive? Merlin, what the hell were you doing?"
She groans, and slowly removes her hands from her eyes, then jumps slightly at my proximity. I realize I'm hovering over her so I take a step back.
"Oww," she repeats, and sits up slowly while covering her forehead with her palm. "That's the second time in two weeks I've damaged my head. Probably my brain," she whimpers.
I feel an urge to smirk, because her face is red and she's frowning from mortification, and quite honestly vulnerability suits her, makes her more amusing. She always is so serious.
"Well sitting down and cursing it won't make it better," I say, and she gives me such a death glare I can't help but laugh.
"It's not funny!" she harrumphs, crossing her arms, her eyes tearing.
"Oh, come now, don't cry, here, up you get." I extend my hand to her and she looks surprised, but grabs it tentatively.
I pull her up slowly, until she's standing in front of me, still clutching my hand.
"You are ok, though?" I ask her, dropping her hand very gradually, not really want to let go at all.
"I- yes, I'm alright." She looks down once more, and tucks strands of hair behind her ears, biting her lip.
"Well let's see." I grab the back of her head with my hands, and she gasps almost inaudibly. Very tenderly, I rub my thumb over her temple. There isn't a bump, it's just slightly red. It'll go away in a little bit.
I release her, and she looks from the floor to my eyes, staring at me like a foreign object.
"Why on earth were you coming down here so quickly?" I ask, feeling awkward that I invaded her personal space.
Her cheeks flush pink, she looks so fucking adorable. I want to eat her up, literally and figuratively.
"I thought you were in trouble…I , well I wanted. You know…to make sure you were okay."
Really?
I feel my face fall, guilt penetrating my mind again, physically in my body. I think about what I decided I was going to do when I came here last night. But now is not quite yet right.
So I take a deep breath.
"Well, I am. I'm okay save for a few scratches," I mumble, trying to chuckle heartedly as I nervously rub the back of my head. She's scanning my body for the damage.
I hear her take that sharp intake of breath that sounds almost like a hiss, the one where you see something you think probably hurts like a bitch.
"Oh god, I am so sorry. Crookshanks doesn't like strangers," she says, bending down to survey my leg.
Oh no, she can't do that, she can't be on her knees in front of me.
"Gee, really?" I reply sarcastically. "Ah!" I let out a small yelp as she touches a wound to assess the depth of the cut.
"Sorry. Here why don't you sit down, I can mend it."
"Um, alright." Slowly, I lower myself to the ground and sit upright with my legs out, my left one the damaged.
She grabs my calve and runs her hands along it, making me feel hot and flush.
"He can be such a vicious little baby sometimes," she notes, exasperated.
"Little baby? Monster is more like it," I reply and she scowls.
"He's half-Kneazle, which is why he's so big. He's never been quite so mean before though."
"Lucky me." I mumble, and I immediately regret it when I see the look of frustration appear on Granger's features.
"Look, I'm really sorry, alright! I didn't know or think that he would do anything, and I was flustered when you got here because I just received an owl and I had to deliver it back from where it came and, and now I have another huge headache and you have these horrid cuts, and just–"
"Woah, woah, woah, slow down for a second." I cut her off, my eyes wide at her outburst. "Granger, you know I'm not actually angry, right? It was an accident."
Her chest is heaving and she looks at me, still holding me, and tilts her head back, shaking her head.
"Well why are you always so sarcastic, then!"
"I- can't help it," I reply.
"Well, remember that you just don't have a very charitable history with being tolerant to animals. I feel bad he attacked you."
I think of Buckbeak, when she slapped me, and I gulp, guilt flooding my insides again.
"I'm not mad, Granger, really." She heaves a great sigh and doesn't say anything.
After a moment, she breaks the tension and attempts to shift my trousers from my ankle to my knee, but it doesn't quite make it, them being too tight. Damn you, Fassbender.
The wound is stinging, the gash trailing down the front of my shin, and I know it needs to be tended to.
"You're going to have to take those off."
I look at her with my 'you've got to be kidding me' face, but she looks just as uncomfortable as I do, so I roll my eyes and unclasp my belt. She's already seen me naked, fuck it.
As I pull the grey slacks down my waist to my knees, revealing my stupid black boxer-briefs, Granger actually has the guts to grab the left side, helping me glide them off my damaged goods.
I know she's already seen me vulnerable, but – Jesus! Her cold hands skim down my leg and the ghostly touch makes me want to shiver or scream.
"Vulnera Sanentur," she says evenly, tracing her wand over the cuts. I recognize the odd sensation, the dull ache and reforming skin, from when Snape did it to my chest a few years ago.
She finishes her handy work and sits back on her legs, pushing her wand into a pocket of her dress.
"Thanks."
"Not at all," she replies to nobody in particular. Then another sigh. "Well, did you want to get to work, or?"
"Sure." I raise myself up, hearing Granger say 'careful', and steady my position. My leg feels like nothing ever happened to it, and with relief I put my pants back on, silently cursing the cat for putting several holes in the fabric.
"Upstairs, perhaps?" she asks, and it's not really a good plan given what happened last time, but I nod.
I gesture for her to go first, and she grabs a little pink device before sauntering carefully to her room. As we enter the now familiar premises, I relish in the fact that it's so unlike Pansy's. Pansy's was putrid pink and filled with frivolous things, whereas Granger has what she needs and only a little extra.
However, as I think of Pansy, I remember that I have to tell Granger that I lost her iPod, and ponder just how furious she's going to be when she finds out. The guilt ever-present, I suddenly feel hot, and I discard my stupid leather jacket onto her desk chair, and edge to the end of her bed. She waits for me to sit, spins the chair from facing the window towards the middle of the room and seats herself so she's facing me. Our feet are practically touching.
"So," she says as she swivels around in her chair, clutching parchment, "I worked on some answers last night, just the rough copy, the rough ideas. I don't know if you looked at any of the questions?"
I gulp, my palms sweating, and I realize that it's time.
I decided last night after McGonagall's run-in that I would be honest with Granger. That I want to tell her how I feel. Because getting all that shit off my chest yesterday, all that racking guilt? It lifted a weight off of me.
I was told from a young age that I was never to reveal myself, especially my emotions, to strangers, to people unimportant. Basically, that was anybody who couldn't influence me in a good way. But I want Granger to be important. The only thing that scares me is if she'll laugh in my face or worse, think I'm insane.
I'm running out of choices. I don't have her iPod, I left my questions at home in my locked away manor; the only option I have left is to try to explain myself.
"I didn't look at the questions, actually."
"Oh." She scrunches her face, clearly disappointed. "Well that's okay, I suppose. You listened to the music though? I guess it would be difficult for you to answer the questions anyways, considering you weren't familiar with the works. What were your favourite songs, by the way?" she asks, her expression taking a turn to be bright, excited.
"I showed you Undisclosed Desires, which is my all-time favourite, but they have a lot of piano in their music, did you notice?" She keeps on asking me questions, but continues speaking without waiting for an answer. I flush, unbeknownst to her, mustering the courage to open my mouth.
"I know some of Muse's older works are less sophisticated, or less intricate and polished as a classical composer, but surely you liked their 3-part symphony? I was thinking that maybe those would be a more suitable thing to present for our project, especially the last section; Redemption. We could incorporate classical music's lasting influence on modern bands and-" Oh god, this is getting to be too much.
"Granger, I ran into McGonagall yesterday," I blurt out.
"Er, what?" she responds, eyebrow in the air. Fuck, wrong thing to start with.
"I was in Diagon Alley, and we – we saw each other, and she – she, we had coffee," I tell her hysterically.
"You had coffee? Why? That's more than a bit odd, and how is that relevant to –"
"Well I saw her in Madam Pimpernelle's beauty shop, she assumed I was being mischievous, that I had ignored you, and I told her that I was trying to comply and work with you and all that bullshit that goes with being a good partner. And she also stressed that we shouldn't do a Muggle band, you see, but you were so happy that we were doing this group and –"
"Why were you talking about me!" she becomes rigid, horrified, almost. "And why not a Muggle band, she specifically stated we could study a Muggle band, it's here in the instructions!" her voice is becoming shrill like mine, her knuckles white from gripping the papers she's shaking in my face.
"I know, okay, I know! She said that the class might be cut if we don't impress Ministry officials. They'll be watching our presentation, I suppose that's why it's so heavily graded, but of course she can't freak out the less talented people. She seemed like she wanted it kept hidden. And she said I was a prodigy, me! And that you were how you 'normally are', which is excellent, but essentially that's why we were paired."
"What?…Wait, wait, I'm confused now. And why did you offer to have coffee with her?"
"I DIDN'T! She asked me, and you can't exactly say no to a teacher, can you?"
"No, of course not, but why? Why you? She's hated you. Er, no offense," she adds as an afterthought, looking frazzled.
"Merlin knows." BE HONEST. "Okay, so I do know." I concede, throwing up my arms.
"Why, then?"
"Calm down, this isn't the Spanish Inquisition!"
She moves her body away from me, taken aback at the harshness in my tone.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I repeat, and it's now she looks really confused.
Because when do I ever apologize?
"McGonagall found out that I agreed to go to your house, because she asked about the project, like I said, and she wanted to know more about what we were up to…" I say in a low voice. "That's why we were talking about you."
"Okay…and what did she have to say?"
"Not much about you, only that I should try to convince you to do a more ancient composer," I smirk, and she hmphs. "It was more about me, really."
"About you?" She leans in again and I inhale, finding it increasingly difficult to disclose to her the desires in my heart when she's looking at me straight in the face.
"Well she wanted to make sure I treated you properly…she was simply surprised that I…did."
"And – and why did you?" She whispers it, barely audible.
"I – " I can't say it. I have to, though, I have to. "Granger, when I left your house 2 days ago I couldn't go home."
Wrong thing, again. Dammit, Draco!
"Why?"
"I couldn't get past the gate." She gives a laugh of disbelief.
"But you live there," she retorts.
"Yes, I do, but I couldn't get in, no idea why. And left stranded in the middle of English countryside, I didn't know where to go."
Merlin, shitshow, here we come!
"What about your friends houses?" she asks naively.
"Friends? You think I still have friends? Or ever had some to begin with?"
"What about Theodore Nott?"
"No idea where he lives."
"Well, why didn't you-"
"I wasn't very well going to come back here after what happened." I cut her off and she blushes, but instead of looking embarrassed she looks almost…mad.
"Well why not? It wasn't a big deal, it meant nothing, why would it have mattered?" she asks, looking anywhere but my face.
"Granger," I say, and I command her with such attention she snaps her gaze to my lips. "Do you honestly think if it meant nothing, I would've made that clear as soon as I woke up? As soon as my lips were torn away from yours?"
Complete silence fills the room. She is frozen, I am frozen; we're holding our breaths collectively.
"Wh-what exactly are you saying?"
"I'm saying…I'm saying that I sat outside for 3 hours listening to your favourite band contemplating what to do with myself. And stupidly, I decided to go to Pansy Parkinson's house and – now hear me out, please," I beg, when I see her frown with rage. She crosses her arms but says nothing, letting me continue.
"I did it because I….because I'm….I'm, fuck Granger, I'm horny!" More blushing. "And I thought that seeing her would rehash old memories, that maybe I'd lust after her or something…but while she's changed a little bit, she's still the same girl that only wants security of wealth and status in a relationship. She doesn't want romance, or care about feelings. I was going to stay the night there, in her stupid pink room, under her stupid pink sheets, lying next to her –"
"Why are you telling me all this?" Granger looks pained. She can't be…jealous, can she?
"Because…because she went out to dinner with Blaise Zabini, and came back drunk, and came back wanting me. And wanting me maybe because of partially what we had 2 years ago, but ultimately because the man my mother is marrying is the richest wizard in France. And I realized I am so fucking sick of dealing with shallow people. Of being shallow myself."
"Okay?" She's still fucking confused.
"Dammit, Granger, you're supposed to be the brightest witch of the age, can't you fucking understand that what I'm trying to tell you is that I LIKE YOU."
"You – " she can't finish the sentence, but she instead stares at me in amazement.
"I. Like. You. It's why I kissed you, I fucking dreamt about you. It's why I've been nice to you, why I picked your Muse, came to your house, and why for some goddamn reason I'm telling you now even though there isn't a chance in hell you'd want me that way."
"But- but how –"
"I don't know! Maybe because you're smart, you aren't petty or superficial, you –you – you're pretty for heaven`s sake, and I used to find you utterly repulsive because I myself was envious of how intelligent you are, and I had my head in the clouds. But I don`t want to be like that anymore. Can't you see that? I could've made the hugest mistake in my life and instead I risked it just for the off chance you'd realize that…I'm. I'm a sucker who doesn't deserve any of your affection, although I want it so badly. I just wanted you to know that whoever you pick to be your significant other is damn lucky, and should realize it."
I can't believe I said it. I fucking did it! I did it!
And yet I can't look at her, my head is in my hands.
Then, suddenly; "Malfoy, you do realize that if I were to even consider you more than a friend, I'd need to get to know you first."
What? I separate two fingers to witness her smiling at me. At me.
Her light bossy tone is what surprises me the most. "And you'd have to start addressing me as Hermione, not 'Granger'."
I slowly move my hands away from my face, and sit up straighter, eyes widening in disbelief.
"Furthermore, you'd have to apologize to Harry, somehow get into the good books of Ginny and Ron, and be generally good-natured around them even if you hate their guts, because Merlin knows that they'd think I was influenced by a love potion."
"Granger – what are you talking about?" I ask deadpan.
"My dear Malfoy," she begins, her smile widening, "clearly I'm not the only one who is bad at recognizing interest in a person."
"What?"
"Malfoy," she chuckles, a heart-swooping chuckle. And then a giggle.
And then more giggles. She can't stop.
"Are you alright?"
"What are the – ha! - chances!" If this were an illustration, she'd be lying on the ground, howling with happy tears in her eyes.
"Excuse me? The chances of what? Why is it so funny?"
"What are the chances that we would find each other attractive at the exact same time? It's like a bad romance novel."
Did she just say what I think she said?
"Malfoy – oh my god. This is absolutely mental. I'm not sure how attractive a personality you are- yet. But I find you physically pleasing."
I gulp. "You- you do?"
"Yes," she says and finally she stops laughing, repositioning herself to regain composure. "In fact, when you talk to me with respect and interest, I find you quite charming. I kind of hate it," she admits and I let out a long sigh of relief and laughter I didn't know I was holding in.
"But you do know if we wanted to give – give us a try that I'd need to hang out, so to speak, with you more than just doing work. So I could learn some nice things about you. To know you personally."
"I understand the conditions." I say.
"It's not a contract!" she says, partially insulted.
"With you, I feel like everything turns out best when laid on the table, in a delicate set of instructions," I tease.
"Well order never hurt anyone," she says defensively.
She really is marvellous.
"And as odd as this is, and as much as I want to further this discussion of our pending relationship," my heart jumps, "we should really be working."
"Fuck the work. Fuck McGonagall right now," I argue.
"What!" I stand up, feeling elated, and boldly grab hold of Granger's hand. She doesn't pull away.
"If you want to know me, then let's do something right now! Let's go eat lunch somewhere. I had to buy new clothes and sleep in the Leaky Cauldron overnight for fuck sake, which is why I'm not such a narcissist this day. We might as well show off the effort I made – which was mostly for you, by the way," she blushes. "I will commit to this notion; I'll see you every single day if I can, I'll – I'll write a written apology to Potter for Christ's sake, if you would kindly give me the opportunity to just talk to you like you aren't my school partner. Like you're more than an old enemy. Much more. I'll put in extra effort to do whatever song you want to perform – I won't sleep so we can do the project properly."
"Malfoy, I –"
"Just right now I'm far too happy that you think I'm good-looking, and I can't just sit here with you having a less than favourable opinion of me when I can try and convince you otherwise, to try and make it work."
I finish,out of breath, and I look at her, hoping I can convince her to go out with me.
"So – you want to go on a date?"
"Yes. Do you think that's too much to ask? If it's too overwhelming I understand I –"
"I think we can make it work," she cuts me off. Then she stands up, and clasps my hand. Immediately she lets go and blushes fiercely once more, fidgeting with where her arms should be.
"You want to go right now?" she questions, and I nod. She fiddles for a moment, contemplating procrastination, then looks up and asks "Where to?"
"I know a place," I reply smoothly.
"How mysterious," she teases. I roll my eyes as I watch her going over to grab a beaded bag and stuffing a letter into it, as well as that pink device.
"Sorry, isn't that what all the lads do? Try to sound impressing and indifferent?"
"And you think that'd work on me of all people?"
"No, you're quite right. It's still a surprise, though." She splits out a grin once more.
I reach out my hand, and tentatively, she grabs it again, and as I pull her to me, I realize besides the kiss that we've never been closer.
"Nothing too fancy I hope?" she asks, looking down at herself.
"You look fine. More than fine, actually." More grinning, and she even sidles closer to me, getting ready for the squeeze.
"By the way, do you have my iPod?"
"Oh, Granger, it's a long story," I say as I concentrate into the air. And we Apparate together out of her bedroom and into the nothingness.
We end up mere seconds later outside my favourite restaurant, with the most engaging woman I've had the pleasure of being entangled with. And I couldn't be more happy.