Chapter 15
The Thaw
Hermione climbed flight after flight up to the clock tower. The structure swayed with each swing of the heavy pendulum down below. It was a depressing feature, one that never quite belonged within Hogwarts. It was straight out of a Poe nightmare than a magical school. It never ceased its reminder of the passage of time. Back and forth, dull and menacing at the same time. The ticking crawl of time as it swung through the days.
She shivered when the wind whipped through. It was colder than it should be. The days felt devoid of all warmth.
It was days since Draco and Hermione made amends. Albeit, it did little to ease her sadness.
Her emotions still had to thaw from the cold sting of his revenge against her friends.
Her heart thudded with sorrow each day. Their time spent together reminded her of that gaping hole where a fiery presence was. She felt overcome with emotion so strongly she had to hold back tears for hours until she was safe in her dormitory with Drogon across her chest. His little arms cradled her hair as she held him. Streams of tears wetting his fur, something he hated with a passion. Yet he stayed there in her arms until she fell asleep.
The joy to do anything was gone, too.
No book fluttered her interest. No question of a professor encouraged her to open her mouth.
She was empty. Nothing. Draco's little pet to play with, insignificant and worthless.
He never cared for it. It was a lie. A big stinking fat lie.
Hermione dropped her bags, removed her jumper, gloves, hat, socks, and shoes, and embraced the frigid cold of the metal clock tower as it consumed her nerves. It brought balance to the devoid body she now resided in.
The hurt started at her fingertips. The creeping numbness ascended her arms in hunger for all of her. It climbed up her legs to her knees. Her breath formed fluffy white clouds as she exhaled with all her strength.
She was allured by the pain it brought. The struggle to move, the struggle to breath, the struggle to overcome. It eased her mental pain. Concern over her worth left when the pounding of her heart began to sting as cold blood pushed through her warm flesh, splintering every function with devastating effects.
If he did not care, then she did not care either. Let her body freeze solid. Let it die.
It took very little time to turn purple. Her lips burned against the strength of the Scottish wind. It turned hot with each swipe. Her fingers became stiff. The harder she tried to bend them, the less they complied.
For once, it made sense. Her body and mind were one.
She walked atop very cold metal with her bare feet. At times, the soft flesh of her toes stuck to the metal as she glided, unbothered by the creeping sensations of death and blistery pain of each breath of wind as it exhaled.
Then came blue. Her knuckles, fingers, the back of her hands were all blue.
Whatever relief that came from it, she couldn't give word to it. It just felt right. Freezing her body balanced the numb of everything else.
She hadn't noticed Draco's angry entrance until his hands landed atop her shoulders and whipped her body around.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?" He shouted. There was sheer bewilderment in his eye. He pulled his (second) coat off and placed it over her shoulders. "How long has she been up here?"
Crabbe and Goyle lingered near the stairs. They didn't dare come near.
"Only an hour," Crabbe replied.
Draco growled. "She's been freezing for an hour?"
He was irate. The other black coat was yanked from his body, then his mittens.
"You two better not be here when I turn around," he said with restrained fury. It was clear that it was not a mood to test him on. They shuffled out of focus back through the opening of the staircase just as soundlessly as they had appeared.
She stood and shivered. He watched her with a frustrating scowl. He pulled at his body with startling urgency.
Draco casted a warming spell around Hermione and he. The air warmed. It did little to calm the wind burn against her cheeks and nose and hands. The soles of her feet no longer stuck to the metal, but they still burned like it.
The fuzzy mink hat plopped over her head as he opened her arms. "Hug me."
She stumbled back away from him. Or, she thought she had. The numbness made it difficult to determine what exactly she did.
Draco met her eyes with his blazing light. He unbuttoned his shirt. Her eyes bulged in panic, but she was unable to move. Was he going to assault her? Was this how he liked it? Godric, was she hallucinating?
He grabbed her arms and laced them through his shirt around his waist, inhaling in pain as her cold fingers ghosted his spine. "Salazar's bloody bullocks! You're ice cold."
Folds of his clothes wrapped around both their bodies as he pulled her chest right against his. She shivered violently. His body shook as a result. He enveloped her flesh as much as he could. It was clear he was concerned about her state. The vigorous rub against her back was so tense it almost started a fire.
"Ow. Not so hard," she whimpered into his shirt. Her voice was fragile. A sheet of thin ice through the frigid cold.
He growled but eased his pressure. "It's to warm you so you don't freeze to death, you stupid witch. Just what were you thinking? Do you like blackened fingers? Perhaps wish for some extra room in your shoes for when your toes fall off?"
Her cheek rested against his shoulder. It reminded her of the Quidditch locker room.
She missed those days.
"Answer me, pet."
His touch against her back awoke her from a daze. She blinked back fire.
"Have you got a death wish?"
"No," she answered softly.
"Do you get a thrill out of freezing?"
"No."
It was like she was the disobedient child, he the caregiver in shock and alarm. Which she knew to be a lie.
"Then what is it?" He groaned in frustration as his hands moved to rubbing her thighs and feet. He curled her feet against his body at the base of his spine with a sudden shudder. Although he was furious, he worked at her flesh to warm the blood within its veins. "Do you just want to torture me? Is that it? You'd rather freeze to death than be without Weasley? What?"
She shook her head. There was no answer that she could give.
Draco turned her face so that he could examine her. "Answer me."
That frightening tone was not easy to forget. It rumbled up fear in her belly. She worried what he might do if she remained silence.
He was ugly when he was angry. The emotion tainted his beauty to demon. The light of his eyes drowned by a darkness inside him. She watched it take over with little resistance.
"It doesn't matter," her lips whispered. They burned to move. Her top lip accidently touched her bottom lip and it sent a sharp sting through her face. She swallowed it back. "I don't matter."
His fingers kept her face turned toward him. He would not allow her to look away.
The strength of his eyes drilled right through to her soul. "Don't you ever do this to yourself. Do you hear me? Promise me you won't do this again."
She nodded against his shoulder, but it wasn't good enough. He wanted words.
"I promise," she managed to mutter.
"Good."
His attention turned back to her frozen body. He rubbed her toes, ensuring each one was able to move before tucking them within his shirt and scowling sharply as their frozen bodies touched his flesh. Her thighs were awakened by his hands. As were her arms. He touched her throat down to her chest, massaging warmth back to the tissues.
"Anything else you can't feel?" He asked.
She groaned. "My arse hurts."
That was where his hands went. Right onto the soft flesh of her arse and massaged circles into the sore muscles, his palms the only source of heat to revitalize them.
Her eyes were closed as she laid against his warmth. It was the most comfortable she'd felt in a while. His scent filled her lungs. The rise and fall of his chest with each breath calmed her heart back to rhythm as he cradled her there, into his embrace.
"Better?"
Hermione nodded. "Much."
Every part of her awakened and warmed back from the grips of frostbite, Draco wrapped his arms across her back and pulled her deeper. Her arms tightened in response. She moved her cheek against his neck in the small nook that was the perfect spot for it and instantly sighed the relief within herself.
She missed him. She needed the intimacy that he gave.
Once given, it was too intoxicating to go without.
Silence spread throughout the empty clock tower. It was a cold day. Most were huddled up inside the castle with their assignments where it was warm. Neither worried of their discovery. The clock tower was a forgotten secret space. With all the spare rooms in the castle, the cover of the Black Forest, the rolling expanse of the grounds and all the privacy wards taught, there were better areas to snog in secret. The cold jutted metal of the clock tower created a rather dismal mood than romantic.
Still, Hermione felt a stir. Her own sensations arose with strength throughout her limbs. She was rather aware of his body beneath hers and exactly what rested right below her own pleasure center was his. The zipper of his trousers was bunched up high. It's peak jutted right against the inner lining of her jeans.
Her eyes fluttered up to his. He stared at a distance far away from the clock tower out over the courtyard and foot bridge. The greenery of the Haunted Wood rested along the horizon. It was a mystery to what he focused upon or if it was really there at all. His eyes swam with retrospection. The harder he thought, the farther his mind pulled him.
A thought of displeasure bristled Hermione as she laid against his protective embrace.
His thoughts should be there with her. The only thing he should stare at was her face buried within the scent of his clothes as he shared his warmth with her. His chest bared open in vulnerability. She was owed the moment. It was her turn for attention.
She rubbed her nose against the softness of his throat. A gentle moan placed upon the flesh. Innocent and seemingly accidental.
His body responded to it before his eyes did. Beneath her, he flexed tight. The muscles of his chest retracted, as his arms tensed their hold. The soft comfort he'd had banished with one wisp of allure.
Draco glanced down at her, cuddled against him with a curious look. He was not certain. There was distrust of how he should respond.
She blinked up at him through thick lashes and feigned indifference to his reaction. "Hm?" She hummed.
"Come," he said. His hands pushed her upright, still astride his magnificent body but now in the light of his vision. The grey of his eyes trailed down her throat. It lit her belly aflame. When his eyes dipped down to her breasts where two the traitorous bumps of her nipples protruded from beneath her shirt.
Her eyes stayed steady at his face as he observed her body. Every so often they flickered back to her face in challenge or in search of permission.
Fingers tensed against her hips. Both of his hands anchored her to him, only to be done at the release of his hold.
"I like this color on you." He thumbed the sleeve of her shirt before he returned the hold back to her hip. "It brings out your eyes."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"What I dislike is the missing of an important garment." There was question in his eyes when they met hers. "Tell me no one else sees you like this, pet."
Hogwarts was a drafty castle. She wore layers upon layers. Jumpers covered her chests so that her torso was molded to that of a boy. Breasts barely noticeable beneath the fabrics. It was easy to forgo a bra when her skin was miles beneath the surface.
The only reason he saw them now was because she removed all those layers.
Hermione swallowed. "No one."
"Not even that Weasel?"
Her body was too lured by lust to defend Ron. It slipped right off her mind.
"Not even that weasel's sister."
Draco smirked. His eyes drifted back to her body. "Good. I might have cursed them all if they had…You, pet, are for my eyes only."
She shifted her weight, flattered and suddenly shy as the main specimen in his eye. As her weight shifted, something changed. Her entire body was overcome with a fleeting moment of indescribable pleasure that sent a shiver through her thighs.
Her eyes went wide in surprise. Her chest heaved in excitement.
"Are you still cold?" Draco asked. His brow flexed, surprised himself by the visible reaction throughout her. No doubt the shuddering of her thighs alongside his hips encouraged naught thoughts of his own.
She shook her head. "No. Um. No."
Silver eyes narrowed to slits of suspicion. "Then what was that?"
"Not sure." She ran a hand through her curls. "You must have touched something."
"Like what?"
She started to shift again. "I don't kno - ."
Her statement was ended with an involuntary moan. It erupted out her throat just as soon as it entered.
Suddenly, she remembered the bulge in his pants and the way it pressed against her clit through her jeans. She glanced down at the erection there now, too. It jutted into the divot of her clit, rubbing the sensitive flesh against the fabric. Her slit went slick when she saw it.
His cock pressed against her, the reason for her momentary ecstasy.
Draco's eyes followed her to the same conclusion. It rose stiffer in his pants thus against her clit. She gasped out, one hand thrown to his shoulder and gripped it tightly as her body shivered.
"Sorry," she breathed when her eyes met his. A hot blush consumed her cheeks.
He was not so bashful. His body flexed. It drove his cock deeper into her soft flesh, tighter against her clit and more tingles spread out through her core.
Their eyes met. Faces drawn close together. Something in his eyes searched for a shred of discontent as his hands ghosted down the length of her zipper toward the juicy spot his cock teased. She leaned into his touch.
The hot need for something inside grew too large to resist. She wanted that spot of hers to be filled with him. His cock to push through her barriers and spread his seed all through her like something he owned and treasured as he pleasured her body in ways unthinkable.
There was urgency on his hands as he unbuttoned her pants and ripped the zipper apart.
She gasped out. He stopped like he had just been caught.
"Don't stop," she said. A smirk came to his delectable lips. How much she liked their taste. "Don't stop."
His hand wiggled between her skin and knickers. They brought relief and tension. The slick wet of her folds was parted then invaded by his touch as the length of his fingers entered her.
Hermione captured his lips hot in a needy kiss as he discovered parts that even she hadn't entered. Muscles in her thighs pulled tight. She shifted more weight onto the sole two fingers perched in her opening as he shagged her endlessly with them.
His tongue entered her mouth just as his third fingers slipped into her body. Sensation was all over Hermione's body: One hand fucked her body with vigor as the other held her hip, rocking it back and forth against him, as their lips joined. Lust was spread. Her nipples ached against the pull of her shirt. They yearned for attention.
"Like this."
She heard it like a question more than a statement. Her body loved the friction, but some other part of her wanted attention more.
Her hand grabbed his, slowly, and raised his fingers to the delicate bump within her folds that really sparked fire.
The moment he swirled her own wet against the eager clit, she was in vocal raptures. A deep primal moan parted her lips, spread through his succulent mouth and back down his own throat where the intimidating growl turned sexual. He growled at her. Her body trembled in pleasure.
They'd been in the midst of possibly shredding what little clothes they had left and shagging like mad when a loud sound echoed up through the clock tower.
Draco froze. Almost frustrated.
"Bullocks," he growled. "Somebody's coming."
"Huh?"
His fingers pulled out of her pants. The cold air stung as it rushed through to her warmth.
He started to button his shirt back with agile fingers that glistened in her juices. They pulled each button through without thought.
She sat there, still mounted atop his body, confused. He grabbed the hat that was hastily pulled from her head at the start of their intense snog. Bits of the fur were coated in dust. He brushed them off quickly.
"Put your jumper back on," he instructed. "Put on all your clothes. You do have a jumper, don't you?"
She nodded. "Yes. This one."
He recoiled when he saw the red and golden knitted jumper from the hands of the Weasley matron. All the Weasleys, Harry and she wore them. Most were gifts for the holidays. She liked them. They were warm and thick, in colors that she adored. The giant H was a bit much, but it was still endearing.
Mostly she enjoyed the smell that lingered in the fibers. Love and a wood burning stove. She relished it.
Draco pushed her hips upward to standing. "Merlin, pet. That thing needs to be put out of its misery. Burned and buried somewhere."
She pulled it overtop her head. It was snug against her body. Draco eyed it closely. He gazed at her chest until he was certain no nipple showed and then continued to gather his own clothing.
"Do I comment on your wardrobe?" She snipped as her bag was hoisted onto her shoulder.
"You could," he sneered. "If I ever wore anything that cost less than a hundred Galleons."
She casted an unamused glance. Money and fashion often coincided but were not synonyms.
"One could say monochromatic is a tad morose," she smirked as she headed down the stair.
Draco was right on her heels. "Black is classic."
"Dated."
He hissed. "Timeless."
"Boring."
Crabbe and Goyle were at the base of the stair just off the courtyard. Their hands were shoved deep in their pockets. Crabbe's nose was all red from the cold.
Her heart stopped. Had they been there the whole time? A flurry of embarrassment rushed to her face as she tried to forget the possibility that they might have heard her moaning atop of Draco like a harlot.
Draco grabbed hold of her jumper before she could walk away and kept her around as he spoke to his henchmen. They had just about answered his sharp demand of "What?" when an eye-watering smell of perfume flooded their noses as a more accurate response.
Umbridge. She was donned in an all pink jumpsuit. A double strand of large pearls dangled around her neck. The witch dressed as innocent as a five-year-old but was poised and venomous as any other serpent.
Hermione was pulled back to Draco's side as Dolores Umbridge approached. His shoulders snapped back in their rigid, formal position.
The witch smiled so sweetly it made Hermione's stomach clench. "Mister Malfoy. Glad to see you not too traumatized by that attack by those uncultured boys."
It was too obvious that Goyle glanced over at Hermione, tucked in gently near Draco's side.
"The likes of those two don't scare me, professor." It was said in that self-entitled voice that Draco used when he acted his part as 'Malfoy, enemy of everything'. She hated that voice, but with the literal incarnation of pure evil in her presence, Hermione was glad to have protection of the rowdy Slytherin Prince.
"Had any harm befallen you and they might have been expelled for their deviancy," Dolores Umbridge continued. "Those Gryffindors are a filthy breed. Muddled and violent. It is exactly why I came to this school."
"It is long overdue," Draco replied.
"That it is." The woman smiled.
She almost overlooked the presence of Hermione Granger completely. It was not until she happened to glance at the two brown eyes watching her carefully that she recognized her.
"Oh! Miss Granger. What a quiet thing you are!" Umbridge giggled. "I see a friendship with Mister Malfoy has done you some good. Learned your place as it were. And what do you think of that brawl your friends proceeded to have upon your dear friend here. Weren't you just horrified?"
Horrified? She was horrified that Umbridge hadn't been cursed by any good-natured person within the school. The woman was not fit to be a teacher, let alone representative of the Ministry.
She had half a mind to tell the witch just what she thought when the memory of her letter to Lupin crossed her mind. She hadn't heard back apart from an ominous 'See you at Christmas'. It was not the advice she needed. There were larger things at work than Umbridge's invasion of the school.
The motivations of one Draco Malfoy concluded to be more important.
Hermione bobbed her head. "Yes. Undignified. The lot of them."
Tears leapt to her eyes as she stood in the aftermath of her words. She wanted them shoved back in where they'd never emerge again.
"You might have lost your best mentor," Umbridge said with a click of her tongue. "And to think, the Hermione Granger can be molded. That bodes well for the future of Gryffindor. Good day."
She pranced along like the Queen herself, unburdened by her nastiness or evil beliefs. It was unfair how soundly that woman slept at night while all the moral beings tossed and turned with indecision and strife. Hermione hoped for the witch to drop dead. It was the only person she yearned to die on the planet, and she was unbothered by the notion that it was wrong.
Draco put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. It was of little comfort.
"Crabbe. Goyle. Walk Hermione back to her dorm," Draco instructed. "Make sure she gets there safely."
So soon.
"Can't I go with you?" She bit her bottom lip.
He paused. "It's just practice. Awful cold and lonely in those stands."
A sparkle of delight and deviancy crossed her eye. "I know ways to keep warm."
Although he playfully cocked his eyebrow, he gestured for her to follow. She was giddy. Goyle walked ahead with Draco. They talked amongst themselves while Hermione and Crabbe lagged behind.
It was a frigid day. The coming days would turn colder yet before the snows came. The end of term was close. Her pending holiday break found her thoughts frequently throughout the days when the wind turned cold and the hot scent of hot cocoa filled the dorm.
"Glad you came around," Crabbe said suddenly.
Hermione was surprised. "Pardon?"
"He's been a handful since all that, you know. And that damn cat was worst. It shredded the drapes of the common room," Crabbe said as he huffed it toward the Pitch. It was still in the distance. "The night after the match Draco was on patrol. He walked the castle all night. Looked like Merlin's ghost the next morning."
She frowned. That was the night she traded her patrol rounds to sneak out to Hagrid's cottage.
He patrolled all night…
"He has that bloody thing follow you through the castle." She forgot that Crabbe still spoke. Her ears focused back to the sound of his monotone voice. "When she can't find you, he sends us to. Come to find out, that little runt of yours was fighting her away. Wouldn't let her pass to know where you were. Draco went ten shades of red at that. But your little thing, Drogon is his name isn't it, wasn't having it. We didn't know where you were that week. Boy-o. Did we catch grief when we couldn't find you. That's all he did you know. Searched the castle. Wouldn't rest without knowing where you was at."
Ahead, Draco looked over his shoulder to ensure she still trailed behind. He gave no tell, but Hermione believed it was something other than dedication to a goal. A Slytherin was determined, yes. But that bordered on obsession which was not a trait of the serpent.
No. Something else worked inside of him.
"Couldn't have been much of a task," she hummed. "I was everywhere in the castle."
"I know," Crabbe said. Suddenly he reached down into his pocket, dug around, and produced a coin. Her enchanted coin! "You dropped this the other day."
She snatched it from his grasp. How had she not noticed it missing? "Thanks Crabbe."
"Don't mention it."
Soon enough at the Pitch, they split. The players – Draco, Goyle, Crabbe included – entered their locker room to gather their gear while Hermione climbed into the stands to watch. She shivered as she entered the open expanse where the wind whipped her hair one way then another.
"Bleeding November." Her teeth chattered as she dug for her wand through her layers. A warming ward placed around her, a wind blocker for good measure, and she felt much better.
She was much better in general. Her heart was not so heavy. Draco was back. It felt good to be back on his good side and be watched.
However…her promise. She spent time with all the Weasleys. Ron was one of them. He was a dear, cherished friend. He bared the duty of keeping Harry sane and out of trouble all by himself. Sure she and him bickered like cats and dogs. Underneath it all, they cared very much about one another. They depended on each other.
Draco made her promise not to be alone with him, a promise she wished she hadn't made yet regretted the way she wanted Draco more than anything. After all the forced time in his company, she was rather charmed. His attention fed her desire to be noticed. His lips ravished the woman beneath it all. That woman was one who wished for all the ugliness and evil to be behind them so that she might find her place wherever she landed without stir of trouble of who she chose.
Why, of all the fine, acceptable wizards there were in the world, did she want Draco Malfoy? Why was he the one who coursed her veins like a drug? Why was he the high?
Ron deserved her affection more. Absolutely. 100%. It should be that redhead in her heart.
And he was.
Only, Draco Malfoy was there, too. Stronger. The burning passion that flooded her senses smelled of his musk. It tasted of his lips. Sensations over her skin late at night were Draco's hands. Not Ron's.
Her face fell into her hands. Gah. When did her life get so messed up?
It was easier when Draco was bad, and Ron was good. Or perhaps, maybe it was when she was good all throughout. It was impossible to say. She suspected that her heart changed. It was not sympathetic with the Malfoy causes the least bit, but she overlooked them in favor of Draco.
Godric, she sounded like a lovesick puppy.
Her face bleached. Hands clasped at the necklace around her neck and refused to let go. Even her jaw clenched together.
Love. Love. Did she love Draco Malfoy? Is that what was wrong with her?
It stunned her. The idea was totally foreign. So unfounded. Her guts felt loose and wiggly. She shifted in her seat as she tried to focus on the Quidditch practice in front of her. Her face flushed like she was the prime audience for all their attentions.
She lasted only half of the practice before she turned tail and ran to the castle. Only one person on her mind the entire walk. It propelled her quickly through the corridors, only stopping to take points away from two Gryffindor boys levitating books out of an older girl's reach.
Her shoes slapped against the floors as she raced out toward the courtyard. That was where they usually hanged out during down time.
The pulse that pounded like the tolling bell of Big Ben settled.
"Ginny!" She called. There was not a moment to spare. A revelation this huge was meant to be talked through, perhaps given a trip to St. Mungos. Something was wrong with her. Hermione hopped down through to her friend. "Ginny. I need to borrow you."
Ginny shrugged. "What for?"
"Now." She grabbed hold of the witch's wrist and pulled her away through to the Wooden Bridge.
Foot traffic was scarce out there. It was easier to speak in private. Prying ears were all over Hogwarts. Umbridge had her own personal spies. It was very clear that both Ginny and Hermione were on that list as they were closely allied with Harry.
Ginny waited, as a good friend did. She did not pry or push it. Her eyes remained focused as Hermione jumbled around with her curls then her hands. Where did she put her bloody hands? They shook all over the place.
She ran them down the length of her jeans. The palms were so sweaty.
"I've got a real problem," her voice shakily said. "It's got me really freaked."
"Gah. Don't tell me. I can see it now. So obvious. Draco uses more hair products than you? I knew that bugger was doing more than just styling."
Hermione awkwardly giggled. "No. Well, yes. He certainly does. But that's not the problem."
The witch adjusted her hair, throwing the straight red locks back over her shoulder. She then shrugged. The casual manner made Hermione more nervous. It was a bombshell. Maybe she shouldn't say it. The news was better left unsaid.
Ginny was her best friend. A girl best friend. They shared everything.
"Now you're making me nervous," Ginny said after a complete minute of Hermione's under breath stammering. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes. Incredibly so."
"It's not Harry, is it? Or Ron?"
Hermione shook her head. "Neither."
"Well, who else causes you to act this way if it's not Harry or my idiot brother? Hm, I'm going to have to guess Malfoy." She smirked. "What's the wanker done now?"
"It's not him," she revealed softly. "It's me."
A lump in her throat made it harder to breathe. Salvia pooled in the corners of her mouth.
The cool wind blew through. Fresh pine rode the air as a lovely incense throughout the countryside. It burned to breathe such cold air through the nose.
Two puffy clouds of white breath intertwined as neither said a word.
It was difficult to phrase, the news she wanted to recount. It would be more difficult to explain to her friends. The impossibility of it made all of it more unreal. Her own emotions shined with a truth she wanted to be a falsehood.
Brown eyes fell to the aged brown bridge. The small cracks showed the heights beneath their feet.
"I think…I think I'm in love with Draco Malfoy."
Time ceased to move. Ginny remained motionless, frozen in time.
Finally, Ginny blinked. "Are you serious?"
She bobbed her head with a pitiful look. "I don't know what to do. I literally just found out."
"You make it sound like somebody told you. How do you 'just find out' you're in love with someone? Shouldn't you know right away?"
"That's what I thought. Honestly. But just as I sat there and thought about how much I should be in love with Ron, but those feelings are ones I feel for Draco and how messed up that was. Then it just hit me." She pointed at the center of her chest. "I love Draco. I can't explain it, but I am connected to him. We're something."
Her friend went wide eyed. She rubbed her temples furiously. "What are you going to do? He can't even admit his feelings for you. Merlin, he acted like a total wanker when he thought you and Ron were dating. I thought that might have done him in."
"I think it did," Hermione breathed softly. "He's starting to… soften. He's like super protective now. Not just from other guys talking to me, but about everything. When we kiss, he's super giving and tender."
Devilish delight changed Ginny's face in an instant. Her lips stretched in a toothy grin. A small wrinkle topped her freckle covered nose. She extended a single finger.
"You said kiss. You kissed Draco." The glee made her clap her hands together. "How was it? Tell me everything. Did he use tongue? Where were his hands: face or waist?"
"Well the first time he - ."
Ginny gasped. "Excuse me? First time. You've kissed before and haven't told me?"
"I'm sorry, Gin. I have not known how to feel about it being known. I mean, imagine what will happen in Harry and Ron finds out."
The mention of the boys sobered their joy. It was a somber thought that their archnemesis is the exact one to whom Hermione's heart belonged. The DA was complicated enough with being friends with him. There was distrust. She saw it.
Harry and Ronald made it clear that distrust against Hermione was distrust against them. Those were her best friends. Even if they hated Malfoy and complained endlessly about it, they were the first to defend her name.
It was like Ginny shared the same thought. They beheld each other in delicate gaze. Ginny looked on woefully. She wrapped her up in a tight hug.
"I'm sorry. I really am."
A soft sniffle came to Hermione's eye. "It's not fair."
"I know." Ginny petted her hair in gentle motions. The wind made her curls a tangled mess twice their normal size. "Love is not all it's supposed to be."
Wasn't that the truth. It was nothing like advertised. Love was natural. It was breathing air. The pumping of blood filled with another's essence. Their touch a joyous rapture of completeness.
Hermione leaned into the embrace. "I'm going to save him."
The muscles in Ginny's body went rigid. "What are you talking about?"
"He's protecting me from something. I know it in my bones," Hermione stated firmly. "And I'm going to protect him."
Ginny was too flabbergasted to know what to say. She retracted from their hug with uncertainty etched in her beautiful warm features.
There were many things that Hermione kept from Ginny out of need. Draco's intentions were one. She hadn't the proof to substantiate any of them. It was her stomach. Her intestines. Her gut.
It knew that whatever Draco risked, she'd risk it too.