Eighth

They say that the strongest feelings can never be withered by the force of time. That the bond that ties wizards to their loved ones is powerful and unbreakable, solemn as a vow, and engulfed by mysterious waves of magic. Of course, Hermione had never been the kind of person to believe such delusional fantasies.

But when every witch and wizard around you keeps believing in notions like this with ardent fervor, it is hard for one to keep away from unwanted thoughts. And so, timeless love had found a home in the remote and subconscious realm of Hermione's mind. The belief was rooted deep within her soul, although she would never admit it to herself nor to any other; it would feel like blasphemy to her, betraying her own strict and pragmatic view of the world.

It is possible to imagine the surge of shock that jolted through her when she discovered that, deep down, she had actually wanted to hold on to these ridiculous romantic thoughts. Even stronger was the astonishment when she realized that her love for Ron had been crumpled and hurled into the farther corner of her mind until, one day, it had vanished. It had felt like glass shattering into a million pieces.

Hermione was no coward, but she would be lying to herself if she said she hadn't been avoiding Ron since she had been given the gift of a second chance in this timeline. There had been many moments in which she had cherished her time with her friends, yes, but none of these involved special occasions with Ron.

Harry had noticed that. He had always been perceptive, and she had always been very grateful about that. But this time was different. It did not matter how much she wanted to express her feelings and tell her best friend what she was going through: she felt small and powerless, incapable of taking steps forward.

The truth was that the thought of turning this timeline upside down because of her choices terrified her. She was frozen by the prospect of tossing away the incredible chance she had been given. But her fear had not stopped Harry from reading cues and drawing conclusions. Hermione knew this well and felt it coming. She knew he would talk to her soon, but she had no idea how she was going to deal with it.

It only took a few days before he pulled her aside one lazy Sunday afternoon, when the drowsy chatter of students was muffled by the sweet drizzling of pouring rain and the faint crinkling and crisping sounds of turning books, as very few diligent minds prepared for upcoming exams.

In the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione was lost in the depths of her thoughts, her absent gaze glued to the black tea mug she held in her palms. The warmth radiating from the fireplace was slowly ebbing away, the crackling and dancing flames slowly fading as the afternoon grew into evening.

She extracted the Time Turner from her pocket and thought of Fawkes and Dumbledore as she started fiddling with it. The small pearls that originated from Phoenix's tears were staring back at her, glimmering under the very last rays of the day.

She wondered if the Headmaster knew what he was doing when he decided she would be the best fit for this mission. Was she good enough? Would she live up to the high expectations? She did not feel qualified at all.

The witch was brought back to reality by a soft tapping on her shoulder, and she soon met a pair of green eyes that had always known how to comfort her in the most fragile moments. Her hands instinctively went to cover her Time Turner, snapping so fast she almost spilled her tea all over the couch, but burying it with success under her cloak.

Harry looked calm and approachable that day, his round glasses resting placid on top of his nose, his hands curling around a trail of chocolate and biscuits. She knew him too well not to know her best friend's subtle attempts to dig out her worries and ease them as best as he could.

"I thought it might be nice to spend some time together, without worrying about Horcruxes and everything else. Want some chocolate frogs?"

She accepted them with a small smile on her face and glistening eyes that spoke of affection and gratitude. Since she had been back in time, able to finally see her friends, she had once again discovered her emotional side. It felt cozy and heart-warming, but most of all it felt relieving. Like breathing again after a long time underwater.

Harry took his seat on the couch right beside her. He drew a few long gulps of hair before he spoke in a low voice, concern loud and clear in his tone.

"Hermione, I actually wanted to talk to you about something. In the last few months, you have been… somewhat different, often distant. Is there something wrong? Is it because of Ron and Lavender? He cares about you, you know…''

"No, Harry, I'm fine. It's just… I've been a little stressed with my studies, you know that I have been really busy with that."

Her excuse sounded awful and unconvincing, but Harry did not object to her claim. Instead, he insisted on the subject she had wanted to avoid.

"Listen, I have noticed you get particularly nervous around Ron. You probably don't want to talk about this, but I know it's bothering you."

She hesitated. She was desperate to spill her heart out to him, to reveal her deepest thoughts and fears, but she was not sure it would be a wise decision to do so. Would that change the course of time? She just knew that she could not bear her burden anymore.

"Harry, you don't understand. I just do not feel what I used to anymore. I have… changed and I don't know how to handle it."

A flicker of surprise flickered in Harry's face.

"What do you mean? You were so in tune, and I could see the look in your eyes when you two were close. What changed? Why now?"

"Everything did. It feels like years ago now. You don't understand."

"Make me understand, Hermione. For Godric's sake, I'm your best friend.'

This was how Hermione's armor crumpled like sand under Harry's sincere words. She filled her lungs with a deep breath and started speaking. Under her cloak, her Time Turner was growing incandescent and glowing in the dark.

He knew things had shifted after that night, and he hated himself for it.

Draco could not bring himself to unfold the raging force that had been roaring and whirling around his heart for days. He wanted to believe the internal turmoil he was so fervently experiencing to be strictly tied to his mission, but the truth was that he knew full well that there was more to it. What happened just a few days ago had stirred something in him, something that felt dangerous, unsettling, and very much real.

Thoughts of bushy hair and raging eyes had crept into his mind, viciously crawling their way to the top and leaving no room for anything else.

Draco was not able to disentangle the two different versions of Granger that had come to form in his head: the insufferable one he had always known, and that repulsed him; and the fierce, disruptive one that he could not stop thinking about.

He had no idea how to deal with the confusing duality that had crashed over him like an ocean wave. She had intoxicated him with wild and chemical magic, and it felt both bitter and electric. At night, his mind would brim with intrusive flashes of intense glares and magnetic touches; from the way her small fingers had coiled around his chin to force his gaze on her, to the glimmering intensity swarming her eyes as soon as her hazels had landed on him, to her grinning rosy lips that had parted to speak sharp, venomous words.

He was obsessing over it. Obsessing over the mudblood. How pathetic.

He had not realised it at first.

He told himself that sitting in the back of the class to steal hidden glances at her lean figure was only to monitor her; that lingering moments in the corridors were a way to spit out slurs to the Golden Trio and lift the heavy burden on his shoulders just for a little while.

That memorising her features, from the way her nose crinkled in distaste when she heard something she didn't agree with, to her furrowed brows when curiosity came over her, was only to discover her flaws and use them to his advantage.

One day, he sook her out.

The heavy dark clouds settling all around the castle were the powerful signal of a thundering storm incoming, the feeble morning light beginning to seep through the windows and set the start of a new day once again.

Draco hadn't gotten any sleep that night, spiraled into endless nightmares of red eyes and vicious snakes, and so had left the dungeons to escape the sense of coldness that had permeated his bones to the marrow.

His footsteps reverberating through the ancient walls of the third floor were the only sound stealing peacefulness from the whispering portraits, which fell silent as soon as they caught a flash of white-blond hair. There had always been an aura of mysticism and intuition surrounding those works of magical art, and it was almost like they could feel the darkness coiled around the Malfoy heir's left forearm.

He wasn't really sure where he was headed, but he knew that he was craving a distraction to lighten his mind. And so, he found himself wandering around the halls of the library, his footsteps quickening and automatically directed towards the restricted section.

He couldn't explain why, but he felt she would be there. It was the kind of gut feeling you get struck by suddenly and that doesn't go away until you act upon it.

The farthest corner of the library was exactly as he'd expected it to be: quiet and dimly illuminated by the first shy light rays of the day. From the distance, he could distinguish one curly head plunged into a pile of books, sitting by the largest stained window.

Four floating quills were elegantly hovering all around her, their fresh ink scrawling across the pages in smooth, pleasant whispers. The scent of books and fresh parchment was intense and so distinctive of the Gryffindor he loathed the most, and Draco was not sure how he remembered it so well. It allured him and seemed to scream at him to come closer, sucking him into a whirlpool that he knew was driving him to madness.

His lips curled up in disgust as he realized his heartbeat had suddenly accelerated. Salazar, how he loathed her.

One tiny voice in his brain kept telling him he should turn around and leave before she saw him, but he ended up silencing it and tossing it in the back of his mind. He wanted to show Granger that what happened a few days ago hadn't affected him, that he would not be intimidated by a silly little mudblood like her.

She seemed to be so immersed in her reading that she hadn't noticed him slowly advancing towards her until he was standing right in front of her annoying freckled face, surrounded by dozens of tomes and littered parchment.

He was not sure if she had decided to ignore him or if she still hadn't seen him standing in front of her, but she didn't give any indication of alarm. She just kept scribbling her notes as if nothing other than the ink and paper in front of her existed in this world. Draco was stung by a sudden surge of anger. He was sure the little act was intentional.

With a swift movement, he caught the small piece of parchment resting in her hand. It was enough for her bushy head to snap up with a venomous glare igniting a dangerous spark in her eyes.

"Studying hard, Granger? Let's see what that mudblood little brain is up to."

As he stared at her with an arrogant smirk splashed on his face, he noticed that her fingers had started twitching compulsively, curling around her wand while her fierce gaze stayed still, firmly glued on him.

A powerful jolt of electricity rippled through his body. There it was, the look she gave him the night of detention, shining even brighter on the first moments of daylight. He found himself thinking that there was a flicker of wilderness that suited her quite well. He felt even more willing to get a reaction out of her. He started unfolding the shriveled parchment clutched in his hands.

Unraveling the Mysteries of Time Tr-

"No!"

Draco had just started to make out the title when he felt his hands being swallowed by a wave of incandescent heat so painful that he had to let go of the crumpled piece of paper.

By the time it reached the floor, all that was left of it was ash.

Once again, he was startled by the sharp use of wandless magic, well beyond NEWT level, that she had just performed without any effort. She did not even blink as she raised from her seat and pointed her wand towards him, advancing with slow and intimidating steps. It only took a few of them before she was so close that he could smell the sweet scent of coconut surrounding her figure.

"I thought I made it very clear to leave me the fuck alone, Malfoy. Or do you want me to hurt you worse than last time?"

Draco had never been a particularly brave wizard. As a matter of fact, there had been more times he had felt and acted like a coward than he had not. He could not remember a single time in his life in which he had avoided taking the most convenient path, the one that he thought would grant him and his family the best outcome.

Except this time a thick mist of revolting, intense, and primal emotions was blurring his senses, clouding his judgment and igniting his soul with longing that had never belonged to him before.

And so, he forgot to care about his well-being for quite a few moments. He must have, because he ignored her words and caught her wrist as he stared down at her. Or maybe it was because deep down he knew she was as dangerous as she was incapable of hurting him beyond simple injuries.

His smirk turned into a hard line and his mocking tone failed to assist him as he formulated the next question.

"Tell me, what's going on, Granger? I figured we could both stop pretending since we are both trying to look into each other's secrets."

She didn't answer the question. Instead, she was silent a full minute, staring at him with intensity and determination, before her voice returned to her. He could feel the thickness further hanging in the air as heavy words seemed to linger on her lips until they came out harsh and inquisitive.

"Why did you save my life that night?"

Although he did all he could to conceal his surprise, Draco knew that his face was telling. He hadn't expected that.

"Why would you care anyway? Why does it matter?" he spat, his tone bitter and frustrated.

Her brows furrowed in confusion as if she wasn't sure herself why she had cared enough to ask him that question.

"I have no logical explanation for it. You had no reason to go against an experienced Death Eater and risk your well-being to save one of the people you loathe the most in this world."

"This is no school project, mudblood. Stop attempting to find an explanation for every little thing that happens, because sometimes there is none. People often just do illogical things."

"This was not a little thing for you to do, it makes no sense, and you know that too."

He sneered at her and was ready to retort with some vicious remark, but his mind could not find any words to counter what she had just said to him. He felt stung and overwhelmed by the gravity and bitter reality of her argument.

And so, for the first time in his life, he shrugged his shoulders and answered her truthfully, because he felt that it was the only thing he could do.

"I am not sure. I guess that after all, I didn't really want to see you dead, despite how much I always despised you." As he said so, he kept his gaze firm on the floor, scanning every single dusty tile rather than holding her harsh gaze. The admission had cost him much dignity and pride, and he could not understand why he was acting as a fool.

When he finally had the courage to raise his eyes until they were locked with hers, he found that her mouth had parted, and the stony grip on her wand had loosened. Her eyes were now wide and whirling with astonishment, and her left hand had come to rest on her shoulder, tracing small circles on her skin in what appeared to be a self-soothing gesture.

He had made her nervous, and, although it was not exactly what he had in mind, it worked well as it seemed to lower her guard. He took the opportunity and seized her other free wrist, forcing her to retreat until her back was clashing against the cluttered table. The proximity of their bodies was both sweet and cruel to Draco, who felt that he was fighting two battles: one against Granger and one against his own unwelcome desires.

"I have answered your stupid questions, Granger. Now it's time you answer mine. I know something is different in you, I can sense it, and I want to know what it is."

He felt her body tense up, and her wrists shake against his grip, a futile attempt to break free.

"How would I know? I am not sure what's in your head, Malfoy, but you must have hit it pretty hard because you are making no sense."

"You know too well what I am talking about, Granger. You know it so well that you get nervous as soon as I mention it."

She fell silent after that, her stare turning into an expression he could not quite understand, but that felt magnetic, charged with an intensity that sent shivers up his spine. Her furrowed brows were deliciously highlighting the gentle, light freckles illuminating her features, sprinkled all around her small button nose.

A strand of rebel curls fell and went to cover her right eye, as her chest kept heaving with fast and irregular movements. Salazar cursed him, but his first instinct was to reach out and tuck it under her ear. He could read the utter disbelief descended upon her face, and he did not need a mirror to know that his expression well matched the Gryffindor's.

At that moment, subtle brushes turned electric, heavy with a hidden promise that neither of them understood but that did not need any spoken words.

Bewilderment swarmed her eyes as his hand lingered on the corner of her forehead in a gentle caress, before slithering down with soft brushes and settling on her cheek. It felt soft smooth and delicious. Draco was mesmerized by it. There was no time for revulsion and self-loathing to kick in and snap him out of his trance: the logical part of his brain had shut down, shriveled like a flower in the desert, floating far away from his consciousness and leaving plenty of room for a thundering wave of emotions.

As she parted her lips to say something, probably a powerful spell to scrape him off the face of the earth, he sealed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. The scent of parchment and coconut grew overwhelming and his eyes fell shut.

Sorry for the delay, I have been on holiday. If you enjoy it, I would really appreciate it if you left a little comment :) It's amazing to hear your thoughts!

Ari