Some days were easier than others for Hermione. One day she was able to manage quite like normal– as if she hadn't lived an entire lifetime before the age of 19– then the next it was as if she'd been hit by the Hogwarts express. All of the grief, stress, anxiety from being on the run during the war would come rushing back and she would relive some of her darkest moments. They played back like a film in her mind and she was nearly helpless to stop them.
As Hermione sat on the cold tile floor of the loo, arms clasped around her knees as she willed her hands to stop shaking, she mused over one particular memory over and over again until its sharpness had dulled.
Harry and Ron had left the tent to patrol and check the wards, she'd stayed behind to read one of the many texts she'd packed to assist with their horcrux hunt. After reading the same passage five times with almost no comprehension, she sat up with a jolt and clutched her hand to her chest. She'd ached all over, as if her nerves had been frayed time and time again and were raw.
It had made no sense at the time, but after her research on the soul bond, and recalling her own experience with torture, Hermione surmised Malfoy had been tortured that day. What she felt was a fraction of his pain through the bond. She had ached for hours that day before the pain subsided, but aside from the physical pain, her very being had hurt. The essence of who she was– her soul– felt fractured. It had taken weeks before she felt whole again.
The phenomenon had occurred many times over the course of the war, and the more it happened, the more Hermione realized she'd felt it before. Not as strong, not as powerful, but she'd felt it alright. The summer before 6th year, twice. During the Christmas holidays 6th year. The Easter holidays 6th year. That summer before they'd gone on the run. She had felt it. And now that she knew the placement of the pain, the ache– the fracturing in her soul– she felt it all over again. Only this time, her heart broke along with it. For Malfoy. How many times had he been hurt? Who had hurt him? Surely it couldn't have been Voldemort every single time. Had his father ever…?
Shaking her head to snap herself from her contemplation of things she couldn't possibly understand just yet, Hermione reached for her wand where it lay next to her on the cold tile. She cast a quick tempus charm and determined she had only 45 minutes to be ready for the Halloween Ball. Saturday had come too quickly. She quickly stood and marched to the shower, turning the knob to a pleasant heat setting before stripping herself bare.
She'd been in a sour mood for nearly two weeks. Malfoy was avoiding her. They'd had some sort of incredible breakthrough that Sunday afternoon following his session with Snape, followed by her extremely satisfying dream (and several more orgasms as she re-lived the memory that week), then nothing. He'd been gone from their shared classes on Monday and she'd been the one avoiding him that night,– mostly in mortification– afraid that if he'd seen her he would somehow know what she'd been dreaming about the night before– and thinking about just then as well. Malfoy had also cancelled his last session with Snape via a note slipped under her bedroom door. Hermione had mulled over several possible logical reasons for Malfoy's sudden absence from their dormitory (and her life, it seemed), but none made sense, none except the one reason she dreaded the most. The possibility that he regretted their conversation from that Sunday afternoon, regretted snogging the living daylights out of her. Regretted his seeming acceptance of their bond.
So, as she lather, rinsed, and repeated through her shower, Hermione's scowl only deepend. She'd somehow hoped beyond all hope that he would make a reappearance before the Halloween Ball.
She wasn't actually even sure where Malfoy had been staying. The dormitory had been quiet, and every evening as Hermione wound down and made herself tea she made sure to peak at his door. For the last two weeks, no light had shown under the door to indicate his presence. His appearance at meals had been scarce. In the mornings she'd seen him arrive at the Slytherin table with his friends, grab an apple, sip on a cup of tea, then promptly leave. Hermione had even once searched the library, making her way through the stacks under the guise of searching for an obscure tome on a rare magical plant, but found no sign of Malfoy.
Stepping out of the shower, the air thick and steeped in the scent of her vanilla shampoo, Hermione wasn't even sure what she would have said to Malfoy had she found him in the library. The idea of a simple hello even put her on edge after how they'd left off their last conversation, not to mention the matter of the threatening letters his mother was receiving. McGonagall had pulled Hermione and Ginny aside the previous day to let them know that the DMLE was no closer to finding the person who was sending the threats and to stay vigilant. For a second in time, Hermione found herself remembering Moody and a time when the phrase "constant vigilance" was shared amongst friends in the context of war. Now, seemingly in peacetime, it did not feel right.
After brushing her teeth the muggle way– a habit formed young and not easily broken, even with the help of magical cleansing spells– Hermione wrapped a towel around herself and made her way to her room. Unsurprised to find no sign of Malfoy anywhere in their dormitory, she sighed and set to readying herself for the Ball. She used her wand to dry and tame her curls, piece by piece, an act she did not repeat often as it required full concentration and was quite tedious, but the results often left her speechless. Lavender may have rubbed her the wrong way following her fling with Ron, but at the end of the day she and Parvati did manage to teach Hermione a thing or two about beauty charms.
As she finished with her hair, Hermione gave herself a once over in her vanity mirror, noticing a heated flush to her cheeks. She applied a quick cooling charm over her face and the redness faded to a slight blush, giving her just enough color. Just as she had for years, Hermione forewent any sort of heavy makeup, instead simply applying a layer of mascara over her lashes and a soft taupe shade of mauve over her lips. One last peek had her smiling at herself in the mirror. Of all the uncertainty she had been dealing with, at least Hermione knew she would look great for the Ball that she didn't even want to attend.
Slipping into the dress Ginny had begged her to buy on their trip to Hogsmeade the previous weekend, Hermione flushed at the memory of finding the garment.
"Hermione- you, Gods! You have to try this one on, please. It's perfect for you." Ginny begged, her eyes wide, hands thrust toward her with a dress hanging between them.
"Gin, no. I'm not wearing that, it's like a second set of skin!"
"That's the point, Mione!"
"Godric, Ginny, stop calling me that and absolutely not. I don't even want to go to this bloody dance in the first place, let alone wearing that."
"Alright, then please just humor me? Just try it on."
Hermione audibly whined, the noise leaving her throat before she had a chance to stop it.
"I take it no word from Malf-"
"Gin, we're not talking about it. Leave it."
"Fine, then try on the dress and I'll shut it."
Hermione rolled her eyes so hard her head spun for a moment.
"Fine, but I'm not buying it. What undergarments am I supposed to wear with this anyway?"
Ginny gave a wicked smirk before offering a curt reply. "You aren't, well placed sticking charms will keep the dress just where you want it."
Hermione's eyes widened comically as she looked at Ginny in disbelief.
She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find words to express her incredulity at the gall Ginny had to even suggest she wear the dress. Hermione was no prude– but she didn't like the idea of being so… exposed, either. The dress was fitted, floor length, a beautiful shimmering black with a plunging neckline midway down the torso. Along the skirt of the dress was a long slit up the left side to about mid thigh. Magically charmed stars gave the dress an ethereal quality, perfect for Halloween, Hermione begrudgingly admitted to herself.
"Before you say no, just try it on. I swear, with your body this dress will beg you to wear it. Or we can talk about Malf-"
"Fine! if it will get you to shut up and mind your own business, fine."
Hermione adjusted the charms, just as Ginny had taught her in Hogsmeade, so that the dress hugged her in all the right places. She'd been right, the dress did fit like a second skin, but Ginny was also correct, it was perfect for her. Where she'd always found flaws in herself, she now viewed them differently. Her once too wide hips were perfectly accentuated by the soft fabric of the dress. She'd always envied the other girls in the tower growing up– with their "perfect tits" as she'd overheard many comments about Lavender in particular. She'd always been on the smaller side, but in this dress, she had cleavage, and what she would describe to be the perfect amount. At the end of their shopping trip, it was that feeling, the feeling of being perfectly imperfect, that drew Hermione back to purchase the dress.
That, and the hope that a certain blonde arsehole might also think it was perfect for her.
She'd taken to referring to him that way in her head the last few days– arsehole. Because that's what he was, leaving her hanging like that. Soul bonded or not, some personality traits didn't fade overnight. Hermione was not under any illusion that Malfoy's personality had somehow shifted– she knew he would be difficult– but she hadn't known him to be one to just up and disappear. So, arsehole it was for the time being.
Slipping her wand into her beaded bag– charmed a shimmering black for the evening– Hermione made to leave through the portrait when Jane's voice stopped her.
"You should talk to him, Hermione."
"Jane, has he been by at all?"
"No, not since… Well, it will be two weeks on Monday."
Hermione's brow furrowed and she pursed her lips.
"Utter prat. Avoiding me like this, could just man up and tell me he's changed his mind."
"I really think you should reserve judgement for after a conversation with Draco, Hermione. I… as a portrait I hear things, whispers. I really don't mean to, I don't like to eavesdrop, but sometimes it cannot be helped. I think Draco needed some time, Hermione."
"Jane– what's happened? Is he alright?" Hermione's pulse began to race. Logically she knew he was physically fine, she hadn't felt any pain through the bond.
"I don't believe it is my place to say, but I can tell you that it is complicated and he has been with his friends. I don't think he's meant to hurt you, Hermione."
"Alright. Thank you, Jane." Hermione responded, her voice feeling detached and far away.
What in Merlin's name?
Still an arsehole.
The walk to the great hall was punctuated only by the sound of Hermione's heels clicking against the stone floors of the corridor. Her thoughts had been consumed with musings about Malfoy's whereabouts and what he might be dealing with that would cause him to distance himself from her so much.
You'd be lying to him anyway, Hermione. You can't share what you know about threats to his mother.
As she reached the doors and extended an arm to open them, she took a deep, steadying breath. Remembering how she felt as she looked in the mirror before departing her room. She swung open the door and gasped. It was beautiful, Ginny had outdone herself. The sky was charmed a decadent black with the night sky depicted beautifully– including the full moon. Pumpkins sat on nearly every available surface. Goblets were filled with punch, tables spattered around the room sat full of "spooky treats" as Ginny had referred to her menu for the evening. Music blared through the room– muggle, Hermione mused.
Ginny spotted her and waved her over to where she stood chatting with Neville, Dean, Seamus, and Luna. Hermione noticed with an upward tilt of her lips Dean and Seamus' clasped hands. She'd always wondered, but had never assumed. It was wonderful to see her friends happy, finally. She took a look around, nodding and smiling at familiar faces as she made her way to her friends.
"Mione, Gods you look gorgeous!" Ginny gushed. "I told you that dress was perfect!"
Neville gave her a kind smile and a wave of his hand.
"Hermione you look… well if I wasn't with this bloke I'd be after ya that's for sure!" Seamus called out, unashamed. Hermione peered at him and Dean over the glass of punch that Ginny had shoved into her hands. They really did make a great couple.
Hermione raised the glass to take a swig and as she swallowed without thinking she coughed immediately at the unexpected burn, her free hand clasped to her chest.
"Gin! What in Godric did you put in here? Is that firewhisky?" Hermione gaped at her friend.
"Hush! Yes, but I've got a flask, just a nip here and there. Thought you might need some liquid courage." Ginny pulled the flask out of its hiding place in her bra.
Liquid courage.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ginny before Luna's voice broke the spell.
"That really is a beautiful dress on you, Hermione. Where is Draco tonight?"
"What?"
"Why would Hermione know where that tosser is? She's not his keeper?" Seamus had turned red during his outburst. Neville and Ginny watched as they waited for a reply from Luna.
"Oh, did you not come together? I'm sorry, my mistake, I had just assumed."
"No, Luna. Why would you assume that?"
Hermione took several long drinks of the spiked punch Ginny had handed her, now needing that liquid courage.
"Because of the bond, of course."
Unceremoniously, Hermione spit her last sip back into her glass in shock.
"The what- "
Seamus and Dean were muttering to themselves, Hermione overheard a quiet "Still looney as ever" from Seamus.
Thank Rowena.
They think it's just Luna's usual eccentricities.
As Dean and Seamus excused themselves to dance, Luna spoke again.
"The bond. You are bonded with Draco, are you not? I've sensed it for quite a long while, but there's been a shift, correct? You've… accepted your bond?"
Hermione had no words to offer the Ravenclaw, she shouldn't have been shocked– Luna was extremely perceptive, especially in areas of magic that were less common.
"As I thought. Though, that still doesn't explain why you're here and Draco is not."
"I'm sorry, Luna, I'm not sure where he is."
Rather than reply, Luna simply smiled and began to sway to the music.
Where was Draco? Hermione didn't see any of the other Slytherin's he spent most of his time with, either. Blaise, Theo, and Pansy were nowhere to be found.
"He's not here, sorry." Neville whispered beside her.
"It's fine, Nev. I'm going to stick around for a couple of songs and then head to bed anyway. I've got several exams coming up to study for."
Ginny's head snapped in her direction, fire in her eyes.
"You will do no such thing Hermione Granger! I've got firewhisky and we're going to dance."
Ginny shoved the flask into Hermione's hands before she had a chance to object. Deciding she'd earned a night carefree, she took too long pulls and handed the flask back to her redhead friend.
"That's the spirit!" Ginny grinned, red lips pulling up into a smirk. "Just wish Harry could be here. Auror training. At least all the physical activity has him looking fit as fuck."
"Gin." Hermione groaned. "He's practically my brother, please don't go there."
"Oh I've gone there, and I plan to go there again, and again, and-"
"Okay, I get it!" Hermione shoved her hand over Ginny's mouth.
The firewhisky was settling, a pleasant warmth engulfing her senses. How long had it been since she'd truly let loose. Surely since the night of her birthday.
Unbidden, a memory swirled through her mind.
"Good girl."
Hermione shivered, sending the memory back to its shelf.
As she listened to Ginny and Neville carry on with a conversation, her mind was miles away. The more the firewhisky set in, the better she seemed to cope with her current circumstances. Hermione found herself starting to enjoy the moment, enjoy the worry-free feeling settling in her bones.
As another muggle song blared through the room, Hermione jumped for Ginny's hands. "Let's dance!"
Ginny's laughter filled Hermione with a sense of happiness that she longed to carry with her for as long as possible, so they ran to the dance floor, hands clasped, as Hermione moved to the familiar song.
"Do you know this song, Hermione?"
"Yes! I love New Order!"
"I may have found a few of your… What did you and Harry call them… tapes? I played a few over the summer when I visited Grimmauld!"
"Hey! I want those back when you're done!" Hermione laughed in return.
She was lost to the music. Something that had always grounded her, connected her to her muggle life while away from home. Music was always something she could fall back on when nothing else made sense.
Hermione thanked herself for remembering a cushion charm on her heels as she continued to dance, singing along to the lyrics, with several others in the room, surprisingly.
"Oh, I'll break them down, no mercy shown. Heaven knows, it's got to be this time!" As Hermione belted out the lyrics she'd heard over and over as she wore her New Order tapes down, she felt freer than she had in years. Free from the trauma of war, grief of losing her parents, the strain on her friendships that years of trials forced upon them, and the constant struggle that was her burgeoning relationship with Draco Malfoy.
Arms wrapped around her and she felt strong hands holding her in place, beginning to dance with her. She tilted her head back to find Seamus dancing with her, a smile on his face. A carefree laugh left her before she could stop it. Dean danced next to them, joining Ginny.
Peace.
She felt at peace for one fleeting moment.
As she turned in Seamus' arms, the doors to the great hall opened and Hermione's eyes widened. Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini walked in looking like an entourage from a fashion magazine. Hermione's gaze lingered on Malfoy in black dragon leather shoes, black trousers, and a black fitted jumper. She'd seen the look on him before, but in her firewhisky haze he appeared more attractive than ever in her eyes. She continued to watch as they made their way into the room– Malfoy's gaze searching the room.
Dean appeared in Hermione's line of vision, approaching her front to dance with her and Seamus. As he took her hands, Hermione felt a pair of eyes burning into her, rooting her to the floor where she had been dancing. She turned her head slowly and her honey eyes met a pair of grey nearly across the room. In his eyes she saw pure fire. His gaze flitted between Hermione, Seamus, and Dean, before finally settling on Seamus' arms belting her waist.
Hermione's breath hitched and she froze as she observed Malfoy's eyes shutter. The fire she'd seen in them only moments ago gone– now replaced by a cool, icy glare.
He's occluding .
Fuck, He's occluding.
Before Hermione could think, plan, explain, he was gone. Malfoy had disappeared through the doors back into the corridor.
Quickly, she twisted in Seamus' arms and made her way after him. The pull had never felt stronger, Hermione was sure that it was magnetism drawing her to Malfoy. Ignoring the shouts from her friends, she ran after him. Corridor after corridor turned up empty, leaving Hermione at a loss. The pull in her chest was taught, like a rubber band about to snap if she weren't careful.
Then she remembered something.
The pull.
Focusing on that feeling, the intense need to be with him, near him, in his orbit, Hermione let her feet lead her. Up several flights of stairs, down corridors, she felt like she had tunnel vision. She was set on a path unsure of her destination, only what she would find when she got there. As she reached the bottom of the steps to the astronomy tower, Hermione was panting from the near jog she took to get there. She let out an unsurprised huff of a laugh, musing about the last time they'd been in the tower together.
With each step Hermione took, the pull seemed to grow more taught. As she approached the last few steps, Hermione steeled herself for what condition she might find Malfoy in when she reached the top. As she rounded the last step and looked out onto the tower, her breath hitched for a second time that night.
Malfoy stood by the railing with a flask in one hand and a muggle cigarette in the other. His gaze was unfocused, peering out into the night over the grounds. Moonlight shone on him, casting an ethereal glow as it met his nearly white, blonde hair and pale skin.
Hermione took several hesitant steps forward till she stood just a step behind him. Her heels clacked against the floorboards. Malfoy hadn't moved a muscle, even as she allowed the noise of each step she took to signal her arrival. Hesitantly, she reached out and placed her left hand on his shoulder.
"Malfoy?"
His head whipped to the side and their eyes met. She'd clearly surprised him.
Just as quickly as she'd seen the look of surprise on his face, it melted away, replaced by cool indifference.
Still occluding .
"Are you alright? You just– you left. You didn't let me explain."
"There's nothing to explain, Granger. I'm fine." He averted his gaze, looking back out onto the grounds.
"Why are you occluding, Malfoy? And where have you been?" Her hand moved down from his shoulder to his arm.
"I've been around."
Infuriating. This is infuriating.
"Malfoy, talk to me. Stop occluding!"
"I'm fine, Granger. You should go back to the party. Join your friends ." He jeered, a familiar cold sneer crept onto his face.
"Malfoy, you're being absolutely ridiculous! Just turn around and talk to me!" Hermione gripped his arm now, attempting to turn him to face her. She didn't have to try too hard, Malfoy turned suddenly, her arm losing its grip. He crossed his arms, bending one at the elbow and bringing his hand up under his chin.
"Talk, Granger."
"I'm not having this conversation with you until you stop occluding. You're not supposed to be using occlumency anymore, Malfoy! Don't you remember how dangerous that is for you?"
"I'll be fine. No need to worry your pretty little head." He spoke slowly, methodically, clearly controlled.
"But I do worry. I care, remember?" A fracture appeared as he seemed to digest her words. She watched as some semblance of life seemed to return to his eyes. Hesitantly, Hermione reached for him, bringing her hand to his face. As she placed her palm against his cheek, his eyes slammed shut and a shudder passed through him. The spot where their skin touched was like electricity, as it always had been, but something felt more intense about it this time.
Hermione observed as a series of emotions washed over Malfoy. His brow furrowing, then relaxing. His jaw clenched, then unclenched. Hermione was wholly unprepared for the pure rage she felt seeming to melt off of him in waves when his eyes finally opened. His grey eyes were flinty, his jaw clenched once more as he ground his teeth together. Even so, he didn't remove her hand from his face, and he didn't turn away from her.
As he continued to glare, Hermione wavered in her resolve.
At least he's not occluding.
Taking a deep breath, she finally spoke.
"Malfoy, why did you leave?"
His gaze was calculating. Malfoy took several breaths before responding.
"I didn't feel the need to stick around and watch how only two fucking weeks was enough time for you to have changed your mind about something you had seemed so sure of." He seethed.
"What on Earth are you-"
"Finnigan, obviously. You're not daft, Granger! He was all over you."
Well, you knew what he'd likely assumed.
"It's not like that, Malfoy."
"Then tell me how it is, Granger. Because from where I'm standing, last we spoke you'd told me how sure you were of us, whatever that means. Of the… bond… and now you seem to have changed your mind because his bloody hands were all over you!"
Hot rage boiled through Hermione.
"Oh, no. Absolutely not! You don't get to just disappear for two weeks after that conversation and judge me for wanting to let go for one fucking minute! I've been so Gods damned worried about you, you idiot! But every time I've tried to talk, tried to approach you, you run! What in Godric is that about? Huh? I'm not the one who has clearly changed their mind here, Malfoy. As far as I'm concerned you're the last person that has a say in who and who doesn't get to put their hands on me." Hermione's chest was heaving, out of breath from what she'd been holding in for nearly two weeks. Her fists were now clenched at her sides, her shoulders squared and tense.
"Oh, you've been busy have you?"
"What? No- I, that's not what I meant!"
"Oh sure, I'm just to believe that after watching you practically rub yourself all over Finnigan in front of everyone?"
"I did not rub myself all over anyone, thank you very much! I was dancing. Dancing , Malfoy. And Seamus, he's-"
"Spare me the excuses, Granger."
"Gay! Seamus is gay, Malfoy. He and Dean are in a relationship. They are happy, probably in love. Probably have been for years, honestly." Her eyes were locked on his, the fire suddenly gone and some of the glittering silver had returned. Malfoy's lips had parted in surprise at her explanation. He opened and closed his mouth several times, seemingly unable to muster a reply.
"I haven't changed my mind about anything. In fact, I'm questioning why now, but I've missed you. Where have you been?" Hermione reached for Malfoy's hand, a question in her eyes, before gripping it with her own. He returned the gesture with a soft squeeze.
"I've been around, as I said."
Hermione nearly rolled her eyes, but restrained herself.
"I know, you prat, but why did you disappear in the first place?"
His eyes flashed and for the briefest of moments Hermione thought she saw pain in them, grief maybe.
"I've… had a few things to take care of."
"Malfoy, it's just me here. Just Hermione-" She thought he flinched just the slightest bit, his hand twitched in her own. "Just, please just be honest with me."
Malfoy released a long sigh. His gaze fixed on the night sky.
"My father died. That- that Monday. In Azkaban." He was tense, his shoulders squared and Hermione could feel his stress– somehow she knew it was the bond and their current physical connection allowing that insight.
"Oh." She gasped, her free hand moving to cover her mouth. "I'm- Draco, I'm so sorry."
He wouldn't look at her, wouldn't turn to face her again. From the side, his eyes appeared more flinty than they had moments before as if he was just on the edge, keeping himself from occluding.
"Are you, Granger? Are you sorry the man who would've killed you and your friends is dead? The man who was giddy, all too happy to call the- to call and turn you and your friends in? The man who stood by to see you fucking tortured ? You're sorry he's dead?" Malfoy's head snapped to face her, his eyes were dark, gleaming in the moonlight. Dangerous.
Hermione took a shaky breath.
"No. I'm not sad that man died, Draco. I'm sad you lost your father. I'm- I'm sad that you're hurting." His gaze softened marginally, but Hermione watched as his jaw shifted, clearly grinding his teeth together.
"Look, If you're looking for a fight, you won't find one from me. I came here for one reason and one reason only. We had what I thought was one of the most important conversations of my life, then you up and disappeared and have been avoiding me. Then you ran off tonight because you saw me dancing with one of my oldest, dearest, and very uninterested friends. I'm sick of it. It ends tonight. No more avoiding, no more half truths, just be honest with me. And for Merlin's sake, stop avoiding me, it's driving me mental."
Hermione's stomach lurched.
You're not telling him about the threats to his mother though, are you?
Honesty.
Bollocks.
Shaking herself, she extricated her hand from Malfoy's and wrapped her arms around herself, attempting to shield herself from the chill that had suddenly settled over her.
Hermione watched as several emotions shifted over Malfoy's face. He seemed to settle on some sort of controlled rage.
"Look, Granger, there are things I had to take care of. And maybe I didn't want to wallow in my misery in the company of the most empathetic person I know. I'm still- there are just things I'm not ready to share yet."
"So your plan was to keep avoiding me? What was that about tonight then, Malfoy? Why even bother being upset if you're just going to avoid me forever!" Hermione's arms swung wide at her sides in disbelief.
"I- I don't know! I wasn't- it wasn't planned, alright? Blaise and Pansy convinced me to go. I was perfectly content staying in and continuing my-" He paused and an unreadable emotion passed over his face "homework."
Hermione felt an ache, not in her body but in her soul. Her voice turned to a whisper as she averted her gaze to the stone wall over Malfoy's shoulder.
"Do you not feel it? That ache? I know you must feel it too. It… I feel like a piece of me is missing, like you ripped it away from me." Unbidden, she felt a tear slip down her cheek. She brought her hand up and swiped furiously at it as a mirthless laugh left her mouth. "Look at me. I'm pathetic. I should have known. I'll just go. Goodnight, I guess."
She spun on her heel and made toward the steps when a hand caught her elbow. Malfoy spun her around and her eyes locked on his face. His eyes were wild, searching hers. Whatever he'd been hiding earlier, he clearly couldn't hide anymore.
"It's fucking killing me, Granger. I can feel when you walk in a room. I can feel it when you wake up, when you go to sleep. It's like I'm attuned to your very being. And when I'm not with you, it's like there's a part of me missing and it fucking hurts. Of course it fucking hurts." Malfoy's free hand raised to her neck, a finger swept along her jaw. The hand on her elbow softened its grasp and he drew soft circles against the inside of her elbow with his thumb. "This is the first time in two weeks I've felt any semblance of normalcy. I've fucking missed you."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat. The firewhisky was still buzzing pleasantly in her system. She was sure her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol.
Missed you.
"Then why stay away?" she swallowed heavily and smiled wryly. "I'll take whatever you're willing to give, Draco. This is… complicated. I know it is. But I- I don't want to go a day without seeing you, being near you– let alone two weeks– ever again. I can't do it. Bloody dream." She whispered those last two words and hadn't even realised they'd been voiced aloud. She'd meant to keep that part to herself.
Malfoy tensed and his eyes sparkled with something akin to desire and sudden confidence.
What is he up to?
She shivered as the hand on her elbow slowly travelled up her arm, his fingers brushing her collarbone.
"Granger."
"Malfoy."
"Tell me about this dream of yours."
Hermione's eyes widened dramatically. Malfoy let out a quiet laugh as he waited for her reply.
"I- no! Absolutely bloody not!" Hermione was sure she was a bright shade of red from the way she felt heat creep up neck and reach her face.
"Oh, come on. What kind of dream could make you turn all shades of red in a matter of seconds, Granger?" He quirked an eyebrow at her before continuing. "Did I happen to star in this dream as well?"
This was the Malfoy she knew, she remembered, from their early Hogwarts years. Confident, smug. For a moment, Hermione remembered that with each session he held with Snape, more of his walls would come down and he would be more of himself.
"We are not discussing this."
A knowing glint in his eye had Hermione doing a double take.
She narrowed her eyes at him before whispering furiously. "What are you not telling me, Malfoy?"
He laughed, again. "Oh it's Malfoy again now, is it? I'd like to take a guess at your dream, but I was hoping you'd give me just a bit to go on first, see if I'm on the right track."
Hermione mulled over her options. She could just tell him– what harm would that be? They'd been so close to something the last time they were together like this anyway. They were also magical soul mates. What could just a little bit of information do?
"Fine. I was sitting in a field of wheat. It was a clear day, with beautiful blue skies. It was… peaceful. The sun cast a perfect warmth that was so different from the weather we have had lately. Then– then a figure approached, but I couldn't make out who it was. But then-"
"Wait, it's my turn to guess." Malfoy removed his hand from its position on her shoulder and placed his chin in his palm as if deep in thought. "But then… let me guess, you were in your dorm room, on your bed, hand in your knickers, and palming one of those perfect tits of yours? And then a dream version of me showed up and joined you?"
Perfect tits.
Oh, Merlin.
Hermione stepped back in surprise. Her eyes were trained on Malfoy's which were watching her with poorly concealed amusement.
"What the fuck, Malfoy!?"
Hermione watched as the smirk fell from his face and was replaced with something darker. Hunger.
"Have you ever heard of a shared dream, Granger?"
Good Godric.
Hermione had in fact read about shared dreams, in one of the tomes about soul bonds. She'd been so caught up in the events of the last two weeks that she hadn't even thought about all of the reading she'd done related to bonds.
How did I miss that?
"That look on your face, Granger, tells me you know exactly what I'm talking about. Which means you know that I enjoyed that dream just as much, if not more than you."
"Gods this is mortifying." Her eyes were cast up to the sky.
"Granger, you've got nothing to be embarrassed about. I've only wanked to that dream every day, sometimes twice a day, since it happened."
Hermione's eyes shot to his in disbelief.
"I'm sure you've got plenty of other lived experiences better than that for wank material, Malfoy." Hermione scowled.
"No."
"What?"
"I said, no. I do not."
"I- what?" Hermione's breathing quickened.
"You heard me, Granger."
"But– you and Pansy. All those times I caught you in the hallway during prefect patrol-"
"Were benign. Pansy and I never made it beyond heavy snogs and hands down skirts and trousers, Granger. I was all too happy to keep up appearances, what everyone wanted to think they knew about me."
Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times at a loss for words. Malfoy had a reputation for being well read in the sack, so to speak. Hermione hadn't ever considered that maybe the rumors were just that, rumors.
"Why?"
"Why do you think?" Malfoy levelled a knowing look at Hermione. Her mind was reeling with possibilities, but the one she so desperately wanted to be true kept flashing through her mind like a marquee sign.
She couldn't speak. She didn't want to know what his reason was, lest it let her down in the end. But Hermione was curious by nature. It's why she read so often, a thirst for knowledge so deep that stemmed from pure curiosity. It's why she played such a heavy role in helping Harry defeat Voldemort, her curiosity was insatiable and until she had an answer, a solution or the truth, she would continue to ask the hard questions and seek out information.
Her better nature won out in the end.
Once again, Hermione clasped her hands around her arms, seeking warmth. Steeling herself, she looked up to meet Malfoy's eyes. The intensity she found in his gaze shocked her, her grip on her arms tightened.
"I need to hear you say it, please say it." Hermione rasped, struggling to find her voice as she choked in breath after breath.
Malfoy looked sure as ever and took two measured steps toward Hermione. He stood close– so close she could feel his warmth. The smell of cedarwood enveloped her, what she knew to be his soap from the many mornings she'd entered the bathroom after his shower. Malfoy reached a hand around into the curls at the nape of her neck, his other hand cupped her jaw. His hand left a trail of heat where it touched her bare skin.
As they continued to watch one another, Hermione noted how utterly real the moment felt– as if Malfoy had entirely revealed himself to her, no more occlumency walls. As she waited for a reply, Malfoy brushed his thumb along her lower lip. Hermione shivered, gooseflesh encased her arms and she fought to keep her eyes open. She watched, enraptured, as his tongue darted out to wet his lips.
Malfoy returned his thumb to her jaw and finally spoke.
"She wasn't you ."