Chapter Twelve: Rain
By the time Draco returned to his dormitory, lunch was almost over. He'd spent three hours flying around the pitch and if he didn't hurry, he was going to be late for his meeting with Granger.
He quickly pulled his favorite dark gray trousers, a white button-down, and a navy sweater his mother had gotten him out of his drawers. Then, he went into the bathroom to take a quick shower. He was ready in under ten minutes.
He didn't wear this sweater often, blue really wasn't a color he wore often. But it fit him nicely and brought out his eyes (or so his mother said). It was an easy way to add another layer of warmth to his usual outfit.
He started the long journey to the other side of the castle where the Gryffindor common room was. When he got there, he was met not by the consistently early Hermione waiting outside, but by emptiness. The portrait of the Fat Lady was the only thing in sight, so, he knocked.
He waited.
No response.
"What are you here for handsome?" The Fat Lady probed after a few moments of silence. "Miss Granger again?"
Draco nodded, his eyes meeting the painted ones in front of him. "She's usually waiting outside already when I come up," he explained. "Have you seen her?"
The Fat Lady hummed thoughtfully as she looked over her shoulder into what he assumed was their common room. "I actually don't think I've seen her since she came back from breakfast," the painting informed, sparing him a sympathetic smile. "She isn't down here."
Draco glanced at his watch again. It was now eight full minutes past one o'clock, the implication brought a lump to his throat. Hermione was never late.
His mind started to wander anxiously. Could something be wrong? Could she be avoiding him? He ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to physically remove those unwelcome thoughts.
The Fat Lady could see the boy start to sweat. "Shall I send someone to go get her?" she offered. "Her roommate, Parvati, is just inside."
He sighed in relief, his muscles relaxed, "that would be wonderful ma'am, thank you."
The Fat Lady turned around in her painting and, he guessed, was talking to Parvati on the other side, her hands gesturing dramatically. When she returned, she had a brighter smile than before, "she's gone to check their bedroom. I'm sure they'll be down soon."
He nodded at the woman and began pacing aimlessly in front of the portrait hole. Why was he suddenly feeling so nervous? It was only Hermione. And they were only going for a walk. They were going to talk and walk like they had done dozens of times. Nothing new or different, really. No need to get worked up over something so normal.
"The two of you have been spending an awful lot of time together," smirked the portrait knowingly, pulling him from his mental motivational speech.
"Well, I would hope to be spending most of my time with her," he shrugged. "She is my girlfriend, you know." He couldn't resist the smirk that came with calling the witch his girlfriend. He'd done it many times before, but today, it made him feel different.
Pride? Maybe.
He didn't have time to think it through because, soon after, the portrait hole was thrown open, exposing a frantic, crazy-haired, pyjama-wearing Hermione as she rushed into the cold corridor.
"I'm so sorry I'm late, I- I fell asleep," the witch apologized, her breath heavy and voice shaky from her apparent run from her bedroom.
He took in her appearance, fighting the urge to laugh.
He had never seen someone's hair stick out in so many directions. She had a thick red line on her cheek from laying on a crinkled pillow. She was trying desperately to keep her bare feet warm by moving them around on the cold, stone floor. And her pyjamas- some soft blue boxer shorts and a form-fitting yellow tank top- definitely gave him reason to smile.
She was rather cute this way.
She didn't miss his eyes moving up and down her body before meeting hers, a flash of fire danced through his usually cold, gray eyes. Now, they were flowing silver, boring through her, oblivious to the time ticking by.
Hermione self-consciously moved to cover her torso a little more by crossing her arms, though she wasn't quite sure what to make of the feelings his stare caused inside of her. It wasn't offense. No, Draco's stare was much more kind than McLaggen's hungry look whenever she had to endure his presence. No one had looked at her like that as far back as she could remember. It felt oddly nice. And more butterflies migrated into her stomach as if it were Spring.
"No matter, you must have needed the sleep then. Are you hungry?" he asked thoughtfully.
She wondered why he wasn't yelling at her or even making snide comments about her appearance. She'd kept him waiting, and she knew he hated waiting. It was the reason she had been making such an effort to be on time for everything. Then, she remembered what it was they needed to talk about and, again, she didn't understand why he wasn't more upset with her.
"I've missed lunch, too," Draco added with a smile that cut through the silence.
She searched his eyes for any sense of falsity, but it wasn't there. He wasn't being sarcastic, angry, or rude at all.
Was he being… nice?
Her eyes flickered to her fidgeting hands before meeting his again. "Yes, actually. I am getting a bit hungry," the witch answered, a new calmness to her voice.
"Okay. You go put some real clothes on, you know, something that makes sense for November weather, probably some shoes, and fix that rat's nest of yours, then come meet me at our bench?" He tried mocking her as much as he could, but his heart just wasn't in it today. Still, she grimaced and reached up to flatten out her unruly hair with little success.
"I'll go have Dobby make us some sandwiches," the Slytherin offered.
"That's… okay, that's a good plan... I really am starving," she conceded. "Twenty minutes, I'll meet you there! Thank you!"
With a smile and another attempt to tame her hair, the witch was gone, back behind the portrait. Draco turned to leave, too.
He heard a voice call out after him. "You sure are smitten with her, young man," cheeked the Fat Lady.
"No one asked your opinion!" Bit the Slytherin, not even bothering to face her.
Twenty minutes later, Hermione, back to her punctual self, was sitting peacefully on the bench watching the water glisten. It was getting colder every day, which meant the edges of the Black Lake were thinly frozen. Hermione threw a small rock gently at the water's icy edge, causing it to break.
Draco watched her curiously from behind, sandwiches, strawberries, and a thermos full of hot chocolate in hand.
She was studying the broken shards of ice and the ripples dancing around them and he wondered what was so fascinating to her. Was it the changing states of matter as time transitioned into the cold of winter? Was it the fluidity and movement of the water that had been still moments before? Or was it the way the water slowly returned to a steadiness after it seemed the soft waves would never stop.
He wondered if she felt solace in the way the world accepted the constancy of change, and he wondered if she felt the same as nature surely did. He wondered if she felt powerful in the act of disrupting things, like the ice and his mind. Or maybe she was seeking to control something, even if it was as small and meaningless as shattering a flimsy layer of ice, because she felt everything else was uncontrollable. Or perhaps she found comfort in the way everything seemed to calm down after it all, after things change and break.
Or, he thought, maybe she's just bored, and the rock was sitting there at her feet, and she just threw it, meaning nothing.
She studied the water, and he studied her.
Draco resumed his steps, closing the distance between them.
Hermione turned around when she finally heard him approaching. "Is that hot chocolate? You're being far too kind for someone who I recently assaulted in the Great Hall."
He laughed quietly as he took his seat beside her, pouring her a mug and handing her the sandwich.
He wondered how long she'd contemplated that statement before she had the courage to come out with it.
"I was hardly assaulted, Granger. Was I surprised? Sure, yeah," he trailed off. The but I didn't mind it that naturally wanted to come next was kept privately in his thoughts.
"You're not going to yell at me?" she asked, confused. "You're not going to ask why?"
"What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I yelled at you?" he smirked, bumping her lightly with his shoulder. "But I am quite curious as to why. Weren't you the one who insisted we never kiss? Wasn't that your rule?" Draco said taking a bite of his ham and cheese.
"Well yes," she started to look flustered. Draco took another bite pretending not to notice how uncomfortable she was feeling. "It was my idea that we don't kiss, but I obviously set that aside for a few moments."
"Why?"
She tried so hard to remain professional, her wording eloquent, but the way he was looking at her with his sharp gray eyes, attentive, and his body angled to face her... It was too much. She rarely had anyone actually listen to what she had to say, the attention Draco was giving her was overwhelming. It made her nervous.
"Well, I was at the Gryffindor table, you know, and Harry – ugh, Harry and I were talking, or arguing, really. He's under the impression that you and I are… you know… sleeping together because he knows we're off in the Room of Requirement all the time." she barely paused to take a breath, having rushed the last sentence out with such speed, he couldn't be sure that he heard her correctly.
The way her cheeks were glowing pink told him that he might have heard right, but she didn't allow him time to comment. "Then Ronald came over and Ginny told him. She told him that you and I were sneaking around, doing things!" her temperature was rising as she grew angrier reliving the argument. "And Godric, his face was so smug. He was so bloody insistent that no, you and I couldn't have… because no one had seen us kiss before. It was a ridiculous but frightening argument, not to mention embarrassing beyond belief. It was infuriating! He threw it out there like no one would ever want to shag me, the way he said it so callously! So I told him he was wrong. I told him-"
Her rant was rudely interrupted by Draco's lips. He was kissing her this time. It was different than their first kiss, this one being slower and softer, but it still caused those odd feelings to rain throughout her body. Her heart rate quickened. Her stomach was doing flips.
Her hands suddenly wished she wasn't holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate.
The contact was intense; she couldn't believe the reactions it caused inside her. Not only was her heart thumping in her chest, but the butterflies in her stomach had discovered gunpowder and cannonballs.
Draco's hand was on her waist. His lips were tingling again, too. He wasn't sure what came over him. One second he was listening to her explain the events of her morning, then he was mentally thanking the weasel for being a moronic arse, then she was so flustered that he just wanted to shut her up.
So he did.
Pretending he hadn't been thinking about her lips and those tingles all morning went out the window. Self-control went out the window. Pretending this was simply physical attraction? That was out the window, too.
They had broken apart, his hand still on her waist though he wasn't leaning over her anymore. He could see the rosiness of her cheeks shining through her skin and she was looking at him.
"There was a fourth year walking by and I panicked," Draco blurted out in a panic.
Again, he'd lost control of his speech, words pouring out of his mouth before his brain could protest. "You know, it might not be such a bad idea if we kissed from time to time. Only in front of others, of course. Especially considering - did I just hear that you told Potter we're sleeping together?"
"Well, yes. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Dean were all part of that conversation. I'm sorry," she sighed, shaking her head and taking a long drink from her mug. "I didn't exactly tell them we were sleeping together, but I didn't deny it either. It's what they're all thinking. I didn't know what to tell them, how else to explain why we're in the Room of Requirement every night."
Draco smirked at the blush that consumed her cheeks and the way she was looking anywhere but at him. He knew of the rumors about him that witches whispered throughout the castle; it was apparent that Hermione was familiar with them, too. But he'd also heard the intent to reject the rumors in her voice. That hurt.
"Do you mean that everyone thinking we're shagging each other senseless in the Room of Requirement every night is a bad thing?" he asked.
"Don't you?"
His left hand reached up to console his wounded heart in mock pain. "Merlin, Granger, that hurts." She punched his shoulder, pressing her lips together in a slim frown. "I'll have you know that the rumors are true and I'm fantastic in bed – no doubt far better than Weasley could ever be. Surely, you'd want the weasel to imagine us like that, shagging like bunnies. It would drive him mental."
Hermione had never felt more uncomfortable in her life. Not when Rita Skeeter told the world she'd been both dating Harry and cheating on him with Viktor in Fourth Year; not when she sat through Snape's lecture on the contraceptive potion from her seat between Harry and Ron; not when she'd accidentally tried to check out the Kama Sutra from Madam Pince thinking it was the anthology she needed to translate for Ancient Runes.
No. Today, listening to Draco Malfoy boast of his sexual prowess compared to Ron's probable ineptitude was something that would scar her for life.
Her cheeks were stained a permanent scarlet. Her face was cast downward, her gaze unable to leave her feet.
Draco laughed trying to hide the fact that his heart was racing and his mind was in utter disarray at the thought, too. He had to play it nonchalant, he had to make her feel more comfortable.
"Hermione," he breathed, as he used his fingers to gently guide her chin toward him. "You are aware that we're not actually sleeping together, right?" She calmed the slightest bit at the joke.
Draco continued, "look, I know this is all new to you, even in the figurative form, but I don't think this is all that bad. In fact, I think your friends thinking we're physical makes our relationship stronger and more worthy of Weasley's jealousy. The way I see it, the way he will see it, I took your virginity. If he saw you as someone that would always wait around for him, well, now you're not. Now you've figuratively given me something he can never take back."
He was right. If Ron's reaction to one kiss in the Great Hall was anything to go off of, the rumor of Hermione losing her virginity to Draco Malfoy of all people would completely drive him to new levels of insanity. And even if she no longer cared whether Ron reacted at all, she clearly couldn't tell Draco that. And it would still be fun to see.
"I suppose you're right. There's nothing wrong with letting everyone think that," Hermione conceded, shrugging.
"Then I imagine, It would be best for us to kiss sometimes to keep the idea going," Draco suggested, completely driven by a place far away from his brain.
But, like Draco, she spoke without her brain being consulted in the slightest. "I suppose it couldn't hurt anything… every once in a while, of course," she agreed.
"It would help our story."
"And everyone's already seen us kiss anyway."
"Right," Draco agreed.
Both teenagers sat facing each other, sandwiches half-eaten and forgotten. Neither of them knew what to say. Both were cursing themselves inwardly knowing that this was a bad idea and wondering how they went from mentally planning not to kiss, to agreeing to kiss on a regular basis.
Draco was rattled because there was no avoiding it now. He'd felt the same rush when he kissed her the second time. Draco liked Hermione. Plain and simple. And it scared him to death because he'd never actually had real feelings for someone. He'd had flings and girlfriends before, but none of them ever meant anything. But now, it was Hermione Granger, a girl his parents would never really approve of, a girl he was already pretending to date, a girl who would never see him as more than an obnoxious prat. A girl that he was lying to every day as she helped him with a project that would put her and everyone she cares about in danger.
He cursed himself.
He didn't want to do this to her. He didn't want to lie to the girl that was changing him, accepting him, appreciating him. It wasn't Hermione who had feelings for him, though. She was only using him to get back at Weasley, so it wasn't like his betrayal would change anything for her. She'd go back to hating him as if none of this happened. Maybe he could find a way to protect her somehow from afar, make sure she's somewhere on the other side of the castle when he lets the Death Eaters in. He'd hurt Hermione a normal, expected amount. He'd be the one to suffer.
On the other side of the bench, Hermione cursed herself because she thought that maybe, possibly, she was having romantic feelings for Draco. But Draco was the least convenient person to have feelings for, and kissing him was just a bad idea altogether, right? Nothing good could come of it; it will only complicate their odd situation more.
While she had decided that she would be okay with kissing him a second time (okay, yes, she'd wanted to kiss him again), she wasn't sure she wanted to share all of these intimate moments with someone who saw them all as fake. She anticipated that this meant nothing to Draco– him having physically been with several people before and also that part about him not feeling anything for her the way she was starting to feel for him– but it still meant something to her. She wasn't sure how she felt about it but it seemed like they had just agreed.
Deciding it best to shake it off, Hermione stored her worries about kissing far away in a part of her brain that was rarely accessed. Their conversation shifted to other, more appropriate topics like classes and books. They discussed their slow progress on the cabinet and potential variations of the charm they could try later that night. They sat and talked, eventually conjuring a large blanket so they could lay back as they watched the thick clouds drift by.
The sky looked beautiful in the way that told you a storm was coming, and soon.
Nearby, a group of Third Years was excitedly chatting about the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. It would be the second visit of the term and everyone was surprised it hadn't been canceled considering what happened to Katie Bell last month. The girl was still in St. Mungos being treated, but she wasn't showing any signs of improvement.
The initial somber atmosphere that plagued the Gryffindor common room after the event had slowly worn off, but many of the students still gathered to talk about their friend and her wellbeing. Her absence was heavily felt despite the time that had past. Harry, for one, was stressed because his Quidditch team was struggling. She didn't understand his priorities, that emerald-eyed boy. A girl had almost died, yet he was worried about the dangerous sport that always managed to cause nothing but problems.
She'd forgotten about this November Hogsmeade trip, caught up in the struggle to balance her fake relationship, social time with friends, schoolwork, and the cabinet. It somehow seemed to be getting easier as Quidditch practices picked up and most of her friends were busy with that. She'd spent more time with Draco and the Slytherins and was even starting to feel like they were becoming her friends, too.
She supposed she'd have to go to Hogsmeade with Draco. It seemed all of the couples took the opportunity to have a real date. Ginny and Dean were probably going together, Ron and Lavender probably, too. Maybe she could spend part of the time with Draco, but see if Ginny wanted to use the trip to find dresses for Slughorn's party. Girl time would be nice. It had been so long since the two had really hung out.
"Hogsmeade is next weekend," Hermione announced into the comfortable silence that had fallen between her and the blonde.
"Do you want to go?" asked Draco, looking over at her. Something about his tone told her that he didn't particularly want her answer to be 'yes.'
"Probably," she mused. Most couples go together, don't they? Why wouldn't we?"
"I was thinking we could use it as a time to work on the cabinet, you know, without anyone wondering what we're up to," explained Draco, half lying.
He'd never really enjoyed Hogsmeade trips in the past, seeing as shopping in wizarding towns was not so rare for him. There was also that haunting memory that had stuck around from last month's trip.
He'd drank himself to an all-time low when he returned from the Three Broomsticks, yet the vision of Katie Bell standing before him, glossy-eyed and weak, and then the image of her body dangling lifelessly in Hagrid's oafish arms had etched itself into his mind, and he doubted he would ever really manage to forget.
He had to do it then, but he didn't really want to go back.
"I think it would be more suspicious if we didn't go," Hermione argued. "Couples always go because they have a break from teacher oversight. I need to get a dress for Slughorn's party, so I'll probably go alone if you really don't want to." She paused, waiting for him to argue her point or insult her for being such a girl and needing a dress, but he didn't. He only nodded.
"We also don't need to be careful about who knows where we're going. Remember, Harry figured out that we've been spending most of our nights together in the Room of Requirement. He thought it meant we were… you know, using the space to be alone… together and everything. I imagine the rumor we're sleeping together will be spread around pretty quickly, so we can just let people think that for our cover," she reasoned as a blush crept onto her cheeks again just pondering the thought of everyone believing she was sleeping with him.
"That's true," he agreed with a smirk. She hit his arm harder than he expected, causing him to throw a big tantrum shouting "abuse!" and clutching his arm as if she had actually caused lasting damage.
Unlike third year when he'd been dramatic about his encounter with the hippogriff, this time the Slytherin's dramatics made her laugh. Then he began laughing, too, in defeat.
After a few moments, Draco revisited the topic of the conversation. "Okay, we can go to the Hogsmeade weekend. You are right in saying that most couples would take the opportunity for a real date," he agreed. "We'll go to a few shops, I'll take you to lunch, we'll hold hands and walk around for a few hours before you go dress shopping with the Weaselette. But you need to promise that we will diligently work on the cabinet for the rest of the week. And you can't complain when we spend an hour or two in the Quidditch store."
Hermione groaned at the last bit but agreed anyway. By his choice of words, she realized that this would be her first date ever. More conflicted feelings threatened her mind, causing her to seek a distraction.
She changed the subject to their most recent class projects. Arithmancy, magical creatures, and potions were safe topics, she reasoned. They kept her mind from thinking about Hogsmeade, about dating, and about imagined scenarios that would leave her kissing Draco in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop for the entirety of Saturday's field trip.
They were so caught up in the conversations, in each other, that they didn't notice that the sky was growing darker above them. Hermione didn't notice the thick, grey clouds that filled the sky, because she was too focused on the similarly grey eyes that were fixed on her. Draco didn't hear the soft rumble of distant thunder because he was too focused on the sound of Hermione's voice as she gave a passionate rant about Elf rights. They were completely lost in each other's presence, that they didn't notice the violent rainstorm that was approaching their blanket…
Until they felt it.
Drops of water poured from the sky in sheets, immediately drenching Draco's conjured blanket. Gasps of surprise preceded the roaring laughter that attempted to drown out the sound of rain. Sweater dripping and heavy, Draco flicked his wand causing the remains of their picnic to follow behind him as he followed Hermione. They both ran for cover, laughing the whole way, into the warmth of Hogwarts Castle.
Their breaths were light and quick from the run and the laughter. Smiles still shone from one face to the other.
"Rainstorms in Scotland? Who would have thought?" Draco quipped, causing the curly-haired witch to giggle. She ran her fingers through the wet mess atop her head trying to calm it down again.
"I suppose that's nature's way of telling us to stop wasting away our day, isn't it?"
Draco's eyes gave a dramatic roll as he scoffed. "Wow, Granger, it is so flattering to hear that you think that spending a few hours with me is such an irresponsible waste of your time," he huffed, sarcasm filling each word. He ran a hand through his messy, wet blonde hair. "Really, that is exactly what every man wants to hear. Maybe next time I go out of my way to make sure you're- I don't know- fed, I'll be sure to bring a book."
He watched her lips turn into a slight frown at that, but she didn't move to say anything. He joked again, smiling at the way an expression of combined guilt and annoyance crossed her features. "Who needs conversation when there are assignments for next month to turn in?"
The heel of her hand pushed into his shoulder, feigning offense, but her face glowed with her smile. "Okay, I get it, Malfoy. I'm a swot." Her hands rose up and her shoulders shrugged in defeat, making Draco smirk.
"But it still doesn't change the fact that I'm now drenched from head to toe, uncomfortably cold, and," she noted teasingly, "still in the presence of the world's biggest prat."
The prat in question simply shook his head at her jibe, smirking still. "You can lie to everyone else, Granger, but I've learned to see right through you." His confidence was all-too perfectly him. She rolled her eyes.
"Okay," he continued. "I can pretend I didn't hear you laughing the entire time we ran, or you can admit that you actually had fun doing something other than schoolwork, something with me."
Once again, Draco's lips contorted into a smirk. Hermione's sigh, the red that filled her cheeks, and the way she avoided his eyes were enough of an answer. He liked the way his flirtations were affecting her.
Taking her hand in his, Draco began to lead her out of the castle's foyer. "Come on, I'll walk you up to the tower so you can change out of these wet clothes and get warmed up. Then, maybe we can meet after dinner again for the cabinet?"
She let her feet follow his steps and she smiled. "Thank you. Sure, that sounds perfect."
He kissed her again before he left, tingles returning once again. The Fat Lady tried to hide her blush at the embracing students well enough for Draco not to notice. Once Hermione passed into the Common Room, the portrait piped up.
"I told him earlier that he was quite taken with you. He shooed me off, but it's obvious. You two really are a perfect match, Miss Granger. And he is very attractive," sighed the gossipy, painted witch.
"Oh please, nobody asked your opinion."
.
.
A/N: Happy Friday to all of my lovely readers! This week's shoutout goes to Master of Shiawase Punch for their very kind feedback! As always, I need to thank Rachelletwin2 and Bumbleb-thc for their beta work on this story!
I have two questions for you all: Would you like to see more Protective Draco? and second, what color should Hermione's dress be for Slughorn's party? Please respond in the reviews!
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Disclaimer: All publically recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of J.K. Rowling.
Many thanks to anyone who takes the time to read this story, OxfordElise