Chapter Eight

Darkness enveloped Draco as the doors to the Great Hall shut behind him. He could still hear the happy buzz of chatter coming from behind the doors. The sound pressed on him from all sides turning his mood even more sour. Silas had not followed him; Granger had let him go without a word. A sharp pain tore through his heart at the thought. He could not make her love him if she did not even like him. And if he could not have her, what was the point of staying at Hogwarts?

Draco began to walk towards the owlery, determined to send word that he was coming home. His mother would be relieved to have him home. His father would be thrilled to be proven right. It didn't matter. He could not stand to stay in these haunted halls for one more night. His hurried footsteps echoed through the empty halls. Tears burned at the edge of his vision, but he forced them down.

Then, Draco noticed the dull thud of a second pair of footsteps rushing through the hallway. He did not bother turning to see who it was until he heard his name. Whirling around, he could not help the leap in his chest at the scene before him. There, bathed in the blue light of the moon, stood Hermione. She had stopped several feet away, leaving an awkward distance between them. Her eyes watched him carefully, swirling with wild and indistinct emotions. Hair fell wildly around her shoulders, dark pieces framing her face with curls. In this moment, she was truly breath-taking.

As the tension rose between them, Draco found that he was both desperate to run away and wrap the beautiful girl in his arms and never let go. A war began to rage inside him between his pride and his lust. His heart grew hard as he watched her lips move, once again, as if unable to find any words.

"Why are you here Hermione?" He asked, raising his voice so that it was barely audible to her. She stood still, blinking hard. The silence that permeated the air only infuriated Draco. "If you have nothing to say, you might as well go back to Weasley. You're wasting my time." He made to turn around, but once again was stopped by her sweet voice saying his name.

"Please Draco!" She cried desperately.

"What?!" Blood began to boil in a way which Draco had not experienced in months. He struggled to control his emotions, but the familiar burn of anger suddenly washed over him.

"What do you want with me!?" Draco yelled, loud enough that he was sure someone would hear him. For a moment, fear flashed behind Hermione's eyes, but she masked the emotion quickly. She stood stoically before him, her lips now pressed in a firm line.

Suddenly, standing here, he was reminded of the Yule Ball. It had been the first time his heart had thudded so desperately against his chest. The one moment had changed him. Hermione had been walking up to the Entry Hall, her arm wrapped around Viktor Krum's. At first, Draco had not recognized her. Her hair had been gelled flat, her makeup was gently enhancing, and for the first time ever, he had thought her beautiful. But it was her eyes that had truly entranced him. She had been clearly nervous, but there was a clear shift in her confidence. Even then, Weasley had been drooling over her, his arm wrapped around another girl. He had stood, angry and confused, staring as Hermione continued down the hall to where the Champions and their dates had been called to. Draco too had watched her leave, vexed at the unfamiliar feelings swirling in his stomach.

He stood in the same hall now, still as enthralled with those deep, brown eyes, and again burning with anger. Hermione nibbled nervously on her inner cheek, clearly aware of his irritation toward her at the moment. "I- I wanted to make sure you were okay. I wanted you to come back. I- I don't know what Harry and Ron said, but the war is over. It's not you against them anymore. And quite honestly, I think you are all acting childishly."

Draco laughed, though there was no humor behind it. He stared in disbelief at the girl before him. "You think this is about an old feud? No, Hermione. I am no longer disillusioned that, somehow, I am still better than everyone around me. I know that Potter is a better wizard than me. I know he has better connections than me. Hell, he probably has more money than me now. Even Weasley is better off than me." His voice spit with anger. "No, this is not about that. This is about you. This is about you making me your passion project for the year. You just want to fix me. I get it- I would be a great addition to your resume. Hermione Granger: protector of house elves and rehabilitator of Death Eaters."

He paused, letting his words bite into Hermione. "Well love, I can't be fixed. And I don't want to be." He turned once again from her. "Frankly, I just want to get the hell out of here."

Feeling again the prick of oncoming tears behind his eyes, Draco tried to flee the room. However, his wrist had been captured firmly by Hermione's delicate grip. Though he did not try to force her hand off, he did not turn to face her, afraid of her pitying him again.

"I'm not trying to fix you." Hermione's voice, though barely a whisper, echoed through Draco's mind. "You're not a project to me, and honestly, it's insulting to insinuate that I would do that to someone." He turned to search her face. Though her hand remained firmly attached to his own, she did not look at him. "I wanted to help you because, like I said, it's not me against you anymore. I realize now that you were forced into that war by your circumstances just as much as I was." Her eyes lifted fiercely to his. "I want to help you. So, please restrain yourself from being an absolute ass for one moment and tell me why you stormed so suddenly from the feast."

"I'm an ass?! You have got to be kidding me Hermione! Have you seen the absolute neanderthal you've attached yourself to? The only thing he's concerned with is his next meal and a compliant mate." His anger caused Draco's words to hiss through his lips. Hermione's eyes had begun to reflect his own, unbridled rage filling her every crevice. She stepped closer to him.

"RON IS NOT A NEANDERTHAL!"

"OH YEAH?" Draco roared, "HOW LONG DID IT TAKE FOR WEASLEY TO STICK HIS TONGUE DOWN YOUR THROAT?" Hermione gasped. "I hear you only stay with him because no one else would take you."

"That's-!" Hermione cried, exasperated, though she wasn't able to truly answer.

"Why else would you stay with someone like that? All that boy is capable of thinking about is himself. That has been apparent since we were children. So there's no way he's satisfying you now! Do you even know what it feels like for someone to fall at your feet? To worship you? Don't you want that?" Draco responded, now freely allowing the tension to rise from him like an uncontrolled wildfire. He stepped closer to her, until he felt her back hit the wall through their, still connected, wrists. He raised his other hand, leaning against the wall and effectively trapping her. His face dipped to the level of hers, which blinked fearfully back at his.

"Answer me, Granger. Does he worship you?"

"Not everyone wants to be worshiped, Malfoy." she bit back.

"You're quite right. But you do." His eyes flitted between hers. His voice had dropped down to barely a whisper. Draco had almost completely lost control of his actions. Almost. "What would you do? If I told you right now that I knew of someone who would love nothing more than to spend the rest of his life worshiping you? Would you leave the Weasel?"

"No." Though she had answered firmly, Hermione's eyes told a different story. She began to nibble on her inner-cheek again, looking desperately past Draco's shoulder for some kind of escape. She was desperate to be rid of Draco's sudden penetrating gaze which seemed to leave pricks of electricity wherever it perused. His piercing eyes had fallen now to her lips, puckered slightly by her nervous habit.

"Whatever you say Granger." Draco whispered, now so close that his hot breath could be felt caressing her face. A shudder rushed through her body, though she tried to cover it by firmly pushing him an arm's length away.

With a smirk, Draco took several steps back, releasing his wrist from the grip it had still been in. They stood across from each other, the distance allowing both people to realize what had just happened. Hermione, though her cheeks and ears were a bright red, had her lips in a firm line clearly expressing her irritation. Draco, on the other hand, no longer overcome by Granger's intoxicating presence, had become very embarrassed about his behavior, his ears once again tinged pink. Neither spoke or moved.

Footsteps broke their silence, alerting them that someone was headed their way. Draco rushed out an apology before fleeing in the direction of the Slytherin common room. Hermione, still furious, stomped off in the opposite direction, unsure of where she was heading. Her mind flew with the things she would yell at him during their next tutoring session. Her inner dialogue fed the anger that was boiling through her veins. But, despite a great deal of effort, her rage would not cover the tingle of butterflies that still fluttered desperately in her stomach.