The morning of the first Quidditch match of the season dawned bright and clear, though it was still plagued by an icy wind. Without knowing how long she would be stuck outside today, Hermione first cast a mild thermal charm around herself, then conjured a small jar of bluebell flames to keep inside of her pocket for added warmth. Hopefully everyone else would be too focused on the game to notice a tiny bit of unauthorised magic.
Breakfast was far rowdier than usual, even with Umbridge sitting up on the dais. She mostly kept her mousy head buried in a thick scroll, but occasionally paused to glance up with a smug smile, as if the excitement of the day was a measure of her success as Headmistress. Hermione accidentally caught her eye during one of these glances and had to hurriedly look back down at her plate, but not before seeing Umbridge's smile stretch even wider.
The Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall to tumultuous applause from supporters wearing red and gold. Leading in front, Angelina beamed around while striding purposefully towards their House table, looking quite proud of the team she'd put together. Behind her, Fred and George motioned for more applause, gesturing grandly to their team Captain. As part of the old hats, Alicia, Katie, and Harry looked happy, if determined, at all of the attention. Ron, who was looking rather green, was a different story.
"Blimey, I think I'm going to be sick," he said, sliding in on the bench by Hermione. Harry sat across from them, already heaping eggs and sausage onto his plate.
"Nonsense," Hermione replied, folding up her copy of the morning paper. "It's just first-game nerves, I'm certain. Everyone says you're brilliant."
Ron smiled weakly at her, taking a single slice of toast from the centre of the table.
"He is," Harry added firmly. "Oliver would be proud, mate. Once you get up there, it'll be just like practice."
A deafening roar caused everyone to look around at the Ravenclaw table. Luna sat at the source of the commotion, having somehow managed to procure an enormous hat in the exact shape of a lion's head. Next to her, Ginny wore a hat with a much smaller paper snake perched on top, writhing around as if it was in agony.
Without warning, Luna's lion head leaned over and chomped down on the snake, causing it to utter a high-pitched squeal. After a beat of stunned silence, conversation slowly took up again around the Great Hall. Ron let out a nervous laugh.
Harry grinned, then eyed the staff table where Umbridge was frowning down at Ginny and Luna.
"Hope they don't get in trouble," he said, gaze settling back on Ginny, who was talking animatedly to a boy with dark hair sitting next to her. Harry's grin faded slowly.
Hermione swallowed her last bite of toast and began dabbing delicately at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. Realising what she was doing, she threw the napkin down with an irritable huff just as the Slytherin team finally appeared, heralded by a sudden cheer from the supporters in silver and green.
She looked around to see them entering the Great Hall, already having changed into their Quidditch kits. Montague was in the very front, strutting towards his House table with a leer on his face. Malfoy was just behind him, his blonde hair perfectly coiffed despite the windy conditions.
As soon as her gaze landed on Malfoy, Hermione found she couldn't look away. Where his wizarding robes were expensively tailored but still rather bulky, his green and silver Quidditch pullover clung gently to his figure, outlining a lithe, but well-muscled frame. The dark trousers paired with it adhered even more tightly around his thighs and calves, leaving little to the imagination. Curiously enough, she especially had trouble tearing her eyes off of the leather guards sheathing his shins and forearms. There was no other way to describe the overall effect; Malfoy was buff.
As if feeling her eyes on him, Malfoy suddenly glanced over and met her gaze. She felt her cheeks redden but didn't look away. His lips quirked up in a small smirk, one of those he saved just for her, before turning away. She touched her cheeks with trembling fingertips, suddenly feeling awfully warm. Was it possible to modify the thermal charm down a smidge?
Angelina appeared behind Harry. "Finish up, boys," she said, eyeing where the Slytherin team had just taken their spots along the benches. "They've already been down to the pitch. We need to get down there as soon as possible and scope out conditions and get changed. And make sure they haven't left any nasty surprises for us," she added with a grimace.
Ron, who had hardly touched his plate, gave her a sickly sort-of smile.
"Yeah," Harry said, stuffing a final piece of bacon into his mouth, "we're right behind you."
Angelina moved down the table towards Fred and George, the latter of whom stood and fell into an exaggerated curtsy upon her approach. Glancing once at Ron, Harry stuffed a napkin full of bacon, then clapped him on the shoulder.
"S'time, mate. Let's go settle your nerves before the match begins."
Ron gave a jerky nod.
Hermione wished them both luck, though assuring them that they wouldn't need it. "And don't forget your thermal charms out there!"
In no time at all, she was snugging on her red and gold gloves and matching scarf and walking down the sloping lawn towards the pitch alongside Parvati and Lavender. She didn't normally care about getting seats with the very best view, but even Hermione wasn't immune to the excitement running rampant through the student body. As she walked, she fiddled with pinning a red and gold rosette to the front of her jumper that Dean had handed her as she left the Great Hall.
Whether from excitement or something else, Hermione was beginning to feel rather wound up. The jittery feeling was something like having too much tea, or maybe nerves — though she wasn't sure why she should feel anxious about the match today. Why did it seem that the outcome should decide something important?
When her unsteady fingers accidentally poked the pin into her chest, a muffled oath slipped past her lips.
"Just a nick," Hermione assured Parvati and Lavender, who had stopped beside her looking concerned.
"Here, let me help," Lavender said, swiftly pinning the bunch of fabric to Hermione's sweater. Hermione thanked her with a smile.
"Anytime," Lavender replied, smiling sweetly back at her. "I owed you one. Thanks again for switching partners with me the other day. You and Neville seemed to work out loads better together."
To that, Hermione could only agree, even if she was annoyed by how it had happened.
"Yes," she said with a laugh. "You and Ron as well."
Lavender bit her lip and shared a look with Parvati, who shrugged.
"Did he… say anything about it afterwards?" Lavender asked, looking away casually as they resumed the path towards the pitch.
Hermione's brow furrowed. "Did he say anything about us switching partners? No, I think he was fine with it."
Lavender giggled. "No, I meant has he said anything about me?"
Hermione looked to Parvati for clarification, but she was only watching Hermione expectantly, same as Lavender.
"No, as I said, he was fine with switching—"
Parvati wrinkled her nose. "Hermione, she's asking if Ron fancies her," she said impatiently.
"Oh," Hermione said, feeling ridiculous as she tried to think through the feverish haze. "Um… sorry, Lavender. He hasn't said anything to me. Maybe you could ask him? Or Harry?" she added at Lavender's shocked look.
"You wouldn't mind, right?" Lavender asked quickly, searching Hermione's expression. "I know you two are close, but I always thought you were more like siblings. Especially after you refused to talk about him and Harry last year when we were discussing Yule Ball dates."
Hermione's immediate thought was a resounding no, she really didn't care at all, but she still took a moment to consider. She'd once imagined the possibility of finding romance with one of her two best friends as the years progressed, but where before she'd been able to picture such a future, it now seemed impossible. She'd always love them, but their relationship was at its peak when they remained the very best of friends.
With Lavender still waiting for an answer, Hermione shook her head. "I wouldn't mind. I'm not sure he's looking for any sort of relationship, though."
Lavender simply shrugged, humming to herself as she linked arms with Parvati.
The stadium was nearly full within minutes of Hermione taking her seat in the stands; everyone was eager for the match to begin. Even Umbridge had wrapped herself in an overlarge, frilly pink coat and settled herself on a bench next to Lee, who sat rather stiffly and appeared to be watching her sideways. On Lee's other side, Professor McGonagall had her nose in the air, seemingly pretending that Umbridge didn't exist.
Hermione missed having Ron by her side to cheer on Harry, but at least now she was rooting for the both of them. Looking out over the distant mountain range, she thought of Hagrid with a pang. He would have been so proud to see Ron on the team this year. Wherever he was, hopefully Hagrid was safe.
When the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams filed out from their respective changing rooms, Hermione stood, cheering and clapping along with everyone else. Even from this distance, Malfoy was easily recognisable by his hair, leading the team out beside Montague's imposing figure. Upon reaching the centre of the pitch, Malfoy leaned unconcernedly on his broomstick, but he remained very still, appearing to have singular focus on the chest in Madam Hooch's arms.
Hermione scanned the Gryffindor team quickly, finding Harry and Ron at the back of the line-up. Ron's red hair stood out starkly against his pale skin. At his shoulder, Harry's mouth was moving rapidly, likely issuing a steady stream of encouragement to buffer against Ron's nerves.
After Angelina and Montague managed a stiff handshake, Madam Hooch raised an arm into the air and the fourteen players surrounded her in two loose semi-circles, red on one side and green on the other. She dropped her arm and everyone mounted their brooms, awaiting the signal. At her shrill whistle, fourteen red and green blurs streaked up into the air.
Ron and Bletchley immediately zoomed to their respective goal posts, with Bletchley barely turning in time to see the Quaffle that Angelina had already pelted towards his centre goal hoop.
"It's Johnson with the first shot on Slytherin!" Lee was shouting. His voice rang around the stadium, reverberating into the stands. "Aaah, but a lucky save from Bletchley leaves the first goal of the match for the taking."
The crowd was split between groans and cheers. Next to Lee, Umbridge had her hands over her ears, looking as if she thoroughly regretted her seating arrangement. Hermione smiled wryly as she looked to the skies once more.
Far above the rest, two lone figures in red and green were circling the pitch opposite each other, occasionally dodging a rogue Bludger as it streaked back downward after a swing from one of the Beaters below. It looked like Malfoy and Harry were planning to stay well out of the way until one of them spotted the Snitch.
Hermione's attention was dragged back to eye-level at Angelina's shout.
"Ron, what are you doing? Pay attention!"
Ron, who had been hovering down below his left goal hoop, snapped his attention forward and hastily moved back up to cover the centre post. Hermione squinted, trying to make out where he'd been staring. The Slytherin section? Her eyes were suddenly drawn to a tiny glint of red and gold in the middle of all that green and Hermione felt her jaw drop; Pansy was wearing Ron's Gryffindor scarf.
"Warrington's clear of Alicia and heading for the goal—" Lee yelled, "—looks like we're going to have our first test for Gryffindor's new Keeper, Ron Weasley, brother of— ooh, Warrington's just barely dodged a Bludger from Fred Weasley, he's still moving forward, Warrington's setting up the shot— AND WEASLEY SAVES IT!"
The roar from the Gryffindor supporters was deafening. The crowd screamed and stamped their feet, shaking the stands beneath her. Hermione let out an exuberant shout and clapped her hands in delight. Ron smiled hugely, sharing a look of pure joy with Harry above him before glancing over his shoulder again towards the Slytherin section.
Lee's commentary barely paused as the game played on at a flat out pace.
"Gryffindor back in possession, Katie Bell moving fast with the Quaffle, she swerves around Montague and passes to Alicia—"
The match continued, with a series of saves from both team's Keepers before the first goal was scored.
"—Spinnet reverse passes to Johnson, she's away— OUCH! Johnson takes a Bludger to the stomach and drops the Quaffle, she'll need a minute to come back from that one, and Warrington's caught it and turning around, he passes to Montague, Montague closing in fast on the goalposts, he shoots— NO! He's feinted, Weasley's gone in the wrong direction, Montague shoots again and—"
The collective groan from the Gryffindor section drowned out the rest of Lee's words. In contrast, the Slytherin section was positively writhing with glee.
Lee's voice was slightly more subdued now. "That's ten-nil to Slytherin. Bell is back in possession of the Quaffle for Gryffindor—"
Malfoy raised a fist and pumped it once in the air before resuming his circuit around the pitch.
Not a minute later, Gryffindor's Chasers scored four consecutive goals, putting them in a comfortable lead at forty to ten. She noticed Malfoy's flight increasing in speed, as if he was feeling the pressure of a thirty-point deficit.
Another ten minutes went by, with Ron only allowing in one more goal to Bletchley's three. The score was sitting seventy-twenty to Gryffindor when Malfoy suddenly dove sharply, causing Hermione to gasp.
"Malfoy's seen it!" Lee shouted. "Malfoy's seen the Snitch, he's hot on its trail, there's no way Potter can catch up now—"
Lee was shouting something else, but Hermione couldn't pay attention as she stood riveted, her eyes fastened to Malfoy's plummeting figure. At the edge of her peripheral vision, Harry leaned forward on his broom, urging it into motion to race after Malfoy, but Lee was right, he wasn't nearly close enough to catch up—
Out of nowhere, a streak of black collided with Malfoy's shoulder, sending him into a tailspin. He nearly crashed into the Hufflepuff stands before regaining control of his broom, his right arm dangling uselessly at his side.
Another gasp escaped her, followed by an involuntary groan. Her bottom lip throbbed from where she'd been absently biting down. Parvati regarded her with open confusion, and it took Hermione a moment to decipher the meaning of it. Malfoy had lost the Snitch and appeared to be injured, hadn't they seen… But that was good news for Gryffindor. And she was supporting Gryffindor… right?
It seemed the Snitch had evaded Harry, too. He was already back above the pitch, circling like a hawk.
Malfoy hovered near the grass, shaking out his right arm. She couldn't make out his expression from here, but she imagined it would be full of frustration, if not outright fury. Hermione frowned as Malfoy waved Montague off from calling a timeout and zoomed away at top-speed, already scanning the sky for another glimpse of the Snitch. He really should've allowed the timeout — he would only hurt himself further if he continued to ignore that shoulder injury.
The gameplay continued with both sides progressively upping their aggression towards one another. Bletchley got hit with two Bludgers at the same time courtesy of Fred and George, and had to be held on his broom by another of the Slytherin Chasers, Adrian Pucey, lest he fall to the ground. Gryffindor scored twice during that incident. Montague and Warrington boxed in Katie Bell mid-flight with their bodies, preventing her from changing direction until she crashed into one of the Slytherin goalposts. Madam Hooch didn't see it; she was too busy shouting at Crabbe for trying to bash Angelina directly with his Beater's bat.
Hermione glanced over at Umbridge once, surprised she was allowing this level of intensity, to find that Umbridge was no longer sitting in the stands. Perhaps she'd gotten a headache and had to leave. It would serve her right for her latest educational decree forbidding unapproved extracurriculars. It came down only days before the match, and the Gryffindor team had nearly had to grovel to be reformed. Hermione strongly suspected McGonagall of intervening in the end.
Gnawing her lip, Hermione continued to follow Malfoy's progress through the air. He had both hands back on his broom, at least. He and Harry exchanged an icy look as they passed by each other before resuming their search.
"Spinnet's just dodged Pucey, she's closing in fast, taking the shot— GRYFFINDOR SCORE!" Lee shouted, barely audible over the cheering and jeering fans. "It's one-hundred against forty to Gryffindor, and Pucey with the Quaffle now—" Somewhere in the distance, a life-sized lion hat gave a resounding roar.
Above the playing field, Harry and Malfoy crossed paths again, both beginning to look a little frantic to find the Snitch and secure a win for their team.
Suddenly, Malfoy's head whipped to the side. He appeared to be taking a second look at the Gryffindor goal posts, where Ron had just pulled off another close save. Noticing Malfoy's movement, Harry's head turned quickly to follow the same line of sight.
It was without warning that they ratcheted their brooms to top speed in the same direction, both lying flat over their handles. Harry, who'd been closer to the Gryffindor side to begin with, easily had a good three metre lead on Malfoy.
Malfoy seemed to realise he would need a miracle to catch up. Removing his feet from the stirrups, he stretched his legs out fully to wrap them around the end of his broomstick. Hermione sucked in a sharp breath when he next let go of the handle entirely, still racing forward at full-speed. Malfoy was reaching back with both hands, holding the tail of his cloak flat against himself to keep it from catching the wind.
It worked. Inches at a time he gained on Harry, eventually coming level with him. They closed in on the Gryffindor goalposts side-by-side, speeding towards where a miniscule glint of gold fluttered. Ron hung motionless above them, watching with wide eyes as everything else was forgotten.
Malfoy and Harry each had an arm forward now. Their sides were pressed together, both attempting to use their bodies to throw the other off-course.
Hermione didn't remember standing up, but she was bouncing anxiously on her toes, hands balled together tightly in front of her chest. They were almost there now, just a little further...
Malfoy's hand closed around Harry's, and Harry's hand closed around the Snitch.
"Harry Potter has caught the Snitch!" Lee shouted exuberantly, jumping up and down in the stands. "Gryffindor wins!" Next to him, a beaming Professor McGonagall threw her pointed hat into the air.
Madam Hooch blew her whistle, signalling the end of the match.
The crowd around Hermione erupted in cheers. She clapped along half-heartedly, wondering what was the matter with her.
Harry landed in the middle of the pitch, quickly overcome by six other figures in red and gold who tumbled off of their brooms and converged on him. In no time, Fred and George had Angelina on their shoulders, celebrating their overwhelming victory.
The Slytherin team landed on the edge of the pitch, wearing sombre expressions. She watched them for a moment, waiting for Malfoy's white-blonde head to appear in their midst. He'd flown brilliantly, but she knew he'd be gutted over the outcome.
After another moment, Hermione realised he wasn't coming to join his teammates. In fact, she didn't see him anywhere on the pitch. Had he flown straight into the changing rooms?
Malfoy didn't show up for lunch. Hermione covertly watched the Slytherin table the entire time, waiting for him to appear. It's likely that no one else would have noticed her inattention anyway; Fred, George, and Lee were already planning a huge party in the common room that evening. Ginny, Luna, and Harry sat grinning hugely, letting Ron give a verbal replay of his numerous saves to anyone who would listen, which namely turned out to be the Creevey brothers, Dean, Seamus, and Neville. A few seats down from Ron, Lavender leaned on her elbow, twirling a bit of hair around her finger and watching Ron with a thoughtful expression.
Towards the end of the lunch hour, the rest of the Slytherin team slunk inside, freshly showered but looking dour. There was still no sign of him.
Hermione really began to worry when Malfoy didn't show up for dinner. She ate mechanically, beginning to feel her eyes burn from staring so often across the room. Everyone else was preoccupied with talk of the celebratory do after dinner. This time, Lavender had managed to position herself on the bench directly to Ron's left, with a begrudging Parvati on her other side. She giggled quite a lot, but Hermione wasn't paying enough attention to say what about.
Scanning the Slytherin table as she was, though, Hermione did notice Pansy looking down the Gryffindor table, her eyes narrowed and lips pressed together. Then they'd made accidental eye contact and Hermione hurriedly looked away for the second time that day.
Back in the common room, she managed to last an entire hour before seeking out Harry. She found him sipping a butterbeer by one of the tall windows, talking with Dean about the possibility of having Dean try out as a Chaser next year.
"Harry?" she began tentatively after pulling him away from Dean with an apology, "would it be alright if I borrowed the Marauder's Map?"
His brow furrowed. "Sure, is everything alright?"
"Yes, everything's fine— at least, I think so."
"Alright," he replied with a smile, "I'll bring it down with me tomorrow morning."
Hermione bit her lip. "Um… I was thinking I could just run upstairs and get it now?"
"Er… yeah, go ahead," he said slowly. "Is it… is this about Malfoy? I noticed he wasn't at meals today."
She paled. "Right. Yes… I mean, I noticed that as well. And I was thinking about meeting him tonight, maybe get in another lesson, so I thought I might check where he's hiding."
Harry looked as though he was fighting a smile. "Right. Of course. Help yourself, Hermione, it's in the bedside table. And don't stay out too late," he added, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement.
Hermione barely acknowledged his patronising tone. With relief, she threaded quickly through the mass of people, making certain that no one was watching before rushing upstairs to Harry's dormitory. She found the Map right away and sat on Harry's bed, pulling out her wand to utter the incantation.
She searched the inky lines of the castle everywhere for Malfoy. He wasn't in the Slytherin common room. He wasn't in the bath, the prefect's lounge, or the library. She even checked the classrooms, but there was no sign of him.
He must be in the Room of Requirement. Where else could he be unless he'd left Hogwarts entirely? She'd just resolved to go find him in the room they usually created together, the Room of Hidden Things, when a lone dot at the very edge of the map caught her eye.
He was still inside the Quidditch changing rooms.
Hoping Harry wouldn't mind, Hermione pulled the invisibility cloak out of his bedside table next and draped it over herself. She made her way down and through the rest of the common room undetected, pausing only once to cram a few snacks into her pockets, and climbed out through the portrait hole.
"You know, Vi," she heard the Fat Lady saying behind her, "I think I— hic— ought to have my hinges checked." She giggled. "I can't say how many times— hic— I've opened this year and no one came out at all!" The Fat Lady and her friend Violet dissolved into fits of laughter.
Hermione barely contained her snort of amusement. Continuing on with her wand in one hand and the Map in the other, she reached the Front Doors without incident (as she should — it was still well before curfew).
Darkness had already fallen outside. She walked slowly now, feeling something like anticipation beginning to coil tightly inside her middle. Harry had seen right through her, she was sure. Even to her own ears, her excuses for being around Malfoy were beginning to sound frail. And what was she supposed to say to Malfoy himself when she found him?
She rounded the outside corner of the changing rooms and stopped before the entrance. Shivering, she pulled off Harry's cloak and wiped the Map next, tucking both under an arm. Perhaps she should have grabbed her coat before tearing off into the frigid tundra that was the Scottish Highlands right now. Her thermal charm from this morning had worn off several hours ago.
Taking a deep breath of cold night air to calm herself, she raised a fist and knocked three times, not waiting for an answer before going inside.
She heard an irritated groan. "Go away, Theo. I already told you I'd be back before curfew."
In the middle of the room, Malfoy lay sprawled on his back across the lone upholstered sofa, a leg dangling off the side and an arm thrown over his eyes. He was still in his Quidditch kit, looking as if he hadn't moved since arriving after the end of the match.
Hermione hastily took in her surroundings. The room looked nearly the same as the Gryffindor changing rooms, though with considerably more emerald decorating the furnishings. Individual dressing cabinets lined one wall, and a huge chalkboard fronted by several rows of benches took up another.
Hermione cleared her throat quietly. "It's not Theo."
Malfoy was quiet for a moment, and absolutely still.
"Granger?" he finally rasped out.
She smiled, hesitating in the doorway. "The one and only."
Malfoy uncovered his face and turned his head to look at her, expression unreadable.
"What are you doing here?"
"I…" she trailed off, wondering what to say. Why was she here, exactly?
"I was worried about you," she settled on, wincing at the way the words sounded as they left her mouth. Far too intimate.
Malfoy stared at her blankly, not saying a word. As the silence stretched, Hermione began to doubt herself. She glanced once over her shoulder, debating if she should just leave, when he finally responded.
"Shouldn't you be celebrating?" he asked bitterly.
She pursed her lips. "I don't see why, I didn't do anything besides manage to sit on those horribly uncomfortable spectator benches for nearly half an hour."
Malfoy huffed a brittle laugh, then pushed himself to a sitting position. He raked a hand roughly through his hair.
"At least one of us managed something useful, yeah?" he said, leaning back so that his head tipped partially over the back of the sofa.
It felt natural to walk over and sit next to Malfoy, resting her fingertips on his knee. "You were brilliant, you know. If it wasn't for that Bludger, you'd have had it the first time. Where were Crabbe and Goyle anyway? Aren't the team's Beaters supposed to drop everything to protect a Seeker in active pursuit?"
Malfoy raised his head to look at her, mild surprise flitting across his features.
She smiled slyly. "Someone once told me that I ought to try reading about Quidditch for fun."
A smile threatened at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, well… they're new."
"You gave me a fright when you pulled that stunt to catch up with Harry," she added.
Malfoy's eyes dropped briefly to the hand on his leg before he gave a small shrug. "Didn't matter in the end."
Looking to change the subject, Hermione pulled a pair of rather squashed pumpkin pasties out of her pockets, placing them on the table inside their napkin wrappers. Then she made to pull the bottle of butterbeer out from where it was tucked into the waistband of her jeans. Malfoy's eyes widened as she lifted the hem of her shirt.
"Thought you could use some nosh after missing two meals today," she explained, revealing the bottle. Malfoy was still watching her stomach, and she felt her cheeks redden.
She laughed weakly. "And that's on top of all the, um… exercise… this morning."
"Right," he said slowly, then met her eyes.
She nodded, clutching nervously at the bottle with both hands.
He suddenly smirked and delicately plucked the bottle from her fingers, uncorking it to take a long pull from the opening. She watched his throat bob as he swallowed, then looked off to the side quickly when he drew the bottle away from his lips.
"Did you at least have Madam Pomfrey take a look at your shoulder?" Hermione eventually asked.
Malfoy grunted sourly. "S'fine. Just sore."
Hermione tutted irritably. "It most certainly did not look fine. I saw the way your arm was hanging afterwards. You really should have allowed Montague to call the time out."
His smirk returned as he shifted on the sofa to face her. "Watching me, were you?"
She smacked at his arm playfully and he winced. "Oh come off it, Malfoy. I'm just trying to help."
He paused, then spoke very quietly. "You are." He cleared his throat. "Helping."
Tucking her bottom lip between her teeth, Hermione met his gaze for several charged seconds before she had to look away, else she be consumed entirely.
Eventually Malfoy sighed, leaning back again. "I suppose I should count myself lucky that at least the team thinks I got one good jinx on Potter last week. Nice one, by the way."
Hermione smiled. "I never thanked you for getting us out of that situation in the Charms corridor, did I? It was very brave of you to intervene."
He snorted elegantly. "Bravery is for Gryffindors, Granger. I prefer to think of it as resourceful."
"Yes, well, either way. I know Harry's grateful, too, whether he'll acknowledge it or not."
"I'm sure," Malfoy drawled, rolling his eyes lazily before taking another sip of butterbeer.
Thoughts of Harry reminded her of something. "You know," Hermione began, running a thumb along her lower lip, "I've been meaning to ask Harry about how his Occlumency lessons are progressing — he's been rather dodgy about the subject lately and I think they must be going very badly. What if, now that you two are sort of at an understanding—"
Malfoy, whose eyes had been tracking the motion of her thumb, sat up at attention. "Let me stop you right there, Granger."
She closed her mouth, waiting expectantly.
"I'm giving you those lessons as a favour. And that favour doesn't extend to Potter."
"I only thought… I mean, you've helped Harry before, haven't you?" she asked. "The Triwizard Tournament? The situation with Crouch last year? The duel last week?"
Malfoy began tapping his ring against the bottle in his hand. "Those were circumstantial, that's all."
Hermione frowned. "Circumstantial? I really don't think you're giving yourself enough credit—"
The speed of his tapping increased as he cut her off. "The second task information was a necessary apology, as I'm sure you remember."
"Yes, alright, maybe that one was more for me, but the others—"
He exhaled sharply through his nostrils. "Trust me, it had nothing to do with Potter."
"But then why—"
Malfoy was off the sofa in an instant, rounding on her with a wild look in his eyes. The bottle of butterbeer had fallen from his hands and was currently emptying its contents on the floor. She froze, shocked by his sudden loss of self-control.
"I thought you were supposed to be clever, Granger," he said with a sneer. "Don't you realise? Don't you understand? It was for you!" he shouted. "It was all for you!"
His final words hung in the air between them, ringing in her ears and clawing into her chest. She sat gaping at him, trying to formulate any sort of response, but he hadn't been looking for an answer.
"Every day, every hour, every fucking minute, I can't stop thinking—" he panted harshly, "and I shouldn't, I absolutely can't, but still I can't help myself—" He pushed another hand roughly through his hair, mussing it even further.
"Malfoy, you aren't making any sense," she tried gently. "What can I do?"
"You've done enough," he replied immediately, a stricken expression crossing his face. He looked over his shoulder. "I should go, it's getting late—"
Hermione stood, something like hope burgeoning in her chest as the pieces flew together.
"Malfoy, stop."
He immediately stilled, watching her warily.
She took a step forward, cataloguing the tense set of his shoulders and the rigid, almost formal-looking posture he held. Lastly, summoning every ounce of bravery she possessed, she looked up at his face. His brows drew together slightly, and he ran his tongue once over his lips.
"Last year, when we… kissed," she forced out, noticing his eye twitch, "I know you said you'd rather forget it ever happened—"
He looked aghast. "What? I did not say—"
"—but I can't," she finished, gauging his reaction. She took another step closer, having to crane her neck to look up at him now. His eyes were wide, but he wasn't backing away.
"And I don't want to," she added in a whisper.
His eyes darkened, a small sliver of silver framing wide, blown-out pupils.
Hermione didn't know who moved forward first, but suddenly, Malfoy's hands had come up to cradle her face and his lips were crashing into hers.
The world was on fire and she was burning at the heart of it. She wound her arms around his neck, kissing him back with a ferocity she hadn't known she possessed.
It was a staggering rush of adrenaline; her heart pounded mercilessly against her ribs and her breath came in short pants. Their lips moved in tandem at a bruising pace, and Malfoy made a low noise of pleasure in the back of his throat, sending her spiralling into an inferno of want. She pushed harder against him, not wanting to leave an inch of space between them. Malfoy seemed to feel the same way; he dropped his hands, bunching the material of her jumper around her waist as he used it to pull her even more tightly against him.
"Wanted this, Granger," he gasped between kisses, "wanted you— so long."
At his confession, a whimper escaped her lips. She twined her fingers through his silky strands, unable to help herself from grasping and pulling as the unbridled heat coursing through her veins threatened to consume her. He responded enthusiastically, backing her slowly into one of the dressing cabinets, his mouth never leaving her own.
Malfoy moved his hands up, placing them on the cabinet behind her at either side of her curls. The evidence of his desire was firm against her stomach, and she moaned softly into his mouth at both the sensation and the irrefutable proof that Malfoy wanted her in return. He groaned, teasing her lips with a quick swipe of his tongue. She opened readily for him, allowing their tongues to tangle and the kiss to deepen.
He tasted of butterbeer and sin and absolutely forbidden. So why did it feel like redemption? But with his lips against hers, warm and pliant and punctuated by soft traces of his tongue, Hermione was beyond logical thought and reason, moving and reacting purely on instinct.
He brought his hands back down to her waist, holding tightly enough that she could feel the indent of the ring on his left hand burning through her shirt. She didn't know if the heady feeling currently fuzzing her mind was from blinding pleasure, lack of air, or both. Desperate for more, she let her hands drop to his chest, clinging to the silky fabric and twisting it in her fists. At the same time, her teeth came down not-quite-gently on his lower lip and he emitted a low-throated growl, thrusting a hand into her hair to cradle the back of her head.
It was everything she remembered and more; both her memories and her fantasies fell short of the reality of having his mouth and his body pressed relentlessly against hers.
Desperate for air but afraid to lose contact, Hermione unwillingly broke the kiss, immediately wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest while she took great, heaving breaths. Malfoy's chest also rose and fell heavily, and he kept one hand on her waist and the other on the back of her head. They held that position for several long moments, both panting softly, before she was brave enough to look up at him.
"Malfoy," she breathed, staring up at him in wonderment.
He squeezed her waist once, bringing his other hand around to brush a fallen curl away from her cheek.
"Granger," he responded just as softly. His voice was slightly hoarse and her gut tightened.
Riding the high, Hermione stretched up on her toes to place another searing kiss against his lips. Their mouths moved languidly this time, savouring rather than devouring, but the sensations only intensified. He kept his hand pressed to her cheek, his thumb tracing gentle circles near the corner of her mouth. When they broke apart, his eyes were bright and his cheeks flushed, as Hermione knew her own were.
With a low groan, he dropped his forehead to hers and shut his eyes.
"I can't," he whispered. She didn't need to ask what he meant.
"You did," she countered breathlessly.
"I shouldn't," he said even more quietly.
"I know," she whispered back. She made to pull away but he tightened his hold on her waist, anchoring her to him.
Hermione didn't know how long they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, but when her legs began to feel as if they might give out any second, she released her hold and drew back. This time he let her.
"I can—" She cleared her throat. "I can leave… if you want?"
He shook his head slowly. "Stay." His voice was clear, but his stance was still hesitant.
Now that they were apart, she found it even more difficult to meet his gaze. Hermione dithered, unsure how to proceed. She was saved from making a decision when Malfoy reached out for her hand, tugging gently. His Quidditch cape fluttered out behind him as he led her to the sofa, and her fingers prickled pleasantly with the contact.
Before she had a chance to sit next to him, his hands shot out, gripping her waist and tugging her smoothly into his lap. She gasped aloud and he grinned down at her.
"I'm starting to get whiplash, you know," she scolded, primly positioning herself so that her legs dangled over his knees and she was nestled into his shoulder.
Malfoy laughed under his breath and the sound stirred low in her stomach. "Don't tell me you're already regretting it?"
"Of course not," she replied matter-of-factly.
The look he gave her in response was absolutely predatory. He leaned in, pressing another soft kiss against her mouth. Her stomach fluttered madly.
When he pulled away, the hunger in his expression had been replaced by something else. Something undefinable.
"Beautiful," he murmured, so soft as to be nearly silent. Her breath hitched in her chest.
His eyes suddenly dropped to her jumper and his face morphed into an unexpected scowl.
"This, on the other hand, could use updating." Without warning, he had his wand out of his pocket and pointed at the rosette pinned to her shirt.
"What—"
One Colour-Changing Charm later and her formerly-Gryffindor rosette sported silver and green.
"Malfoy," she spluttered, unable to summon anything else to say in reprimand with her mind thoroughly fogged over.
He smirked at her. "Much better."
She huffed irritably, pushing back into his shoulder and immediately springing away again when he jerked back. Before he could evade her, Hermione hooked a finger under his collar and pulled his shirt to the side to reveal the stretch of skin marred by the Bludger. She inhaled sharply, looking down at a mass of purple bruises.
"I knew it wasn't fine, you should have gone to see Madam Pomfrey," she scolded.
He shrugged loosely.
Hermione began fumbling for her own wand. "You know," she began, "there was a time you'd have been using this to get out of all sorts of things."
"Must you bring up everything I've ever done?"
"No. Now hold still," she said, fighting a smile. She pulled his shirt further to the side, placing the tip of her wand gently to his shoulder.
"Sure you don't want me to take it off?" he teased, raising his brows.
Her cheeks immediately heated. "No, this will be perfectly fine, thank you. Episkey."
Within moments, most of the bruising had faded. Malfoy rolled his shoulder, testing her spellwork.
"Better," he said, still moving it carefully.
"It's only a minor Healing Charm," she explained. "You'd still best get that checked out tomorrow morning."
He nodded once, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
As she went to stow her wand again, Hermione caught sight of the clock on the far wall and let out a squeak, bolting out of her seat. "Merlin, is that the time already?"
Malfoy looked over his shoulder, quickly standing to join her. "Shit."
"It's a good thing I brought these," she said, retrieving Harry's cloak and the Map from where she'd left them near the couch.
Malfoy watched the invisibility cloak hungrily, reaching out to run his fingers through the velvety fabric. He barely gave the Map a second glance.
She pushed the bundle of fabric into his arms and placed her wand to the Map. "We can both use it to go up to the castle, and I'll take you by the Slytherin common room first—"
But at the sound of a voice that wasn't Malfoy's, Hermione froze.
"Draco? You still in here?"
As opposed to hers, at least Malfoy's reflexes were functioning. He snapped out the fabric in his hands, throwing it over her just in time. Blaise Zabini came around the corner, looking around curiously.
"Ah, good," Zabini said, "Theo said you were probably still here. Is… there anyone else around? I thought I heard—"
"No," Malfoy cut him off. "Just me."
Zabini raised an eyebrow at him. Hardly daring to breathe, Hermione held herself as still as possible. Her heartbeat thudded loudly in her ears.
"Alright. Well, I came down to tell you that Umbridge is requesting a Squad meeting in her office. The others are already on their way. Theo sent me to find you."
Malfoy stared at him incredulously. "Now? What could she possibly want?"
Zabini shrugged, his disinterest nearly palpable. "Can't say for certain. Perhaps something to do with an illegal party happening in the Gryffindor common room. She's probably going to get McGonagall to let her in."
Malfoy scowled. "Great. Just give me a second to change and I'll be out."
Face impassive, Zabini turned, retreating the same way he'd come. Hermione released a shaky breath when he'd gone.
"He knew you were lying," she whispered. "Do you think he knows it's me?"
Malfoy shook his head, smirking in her general vicinity. "I don't think so. I mean, how likely would that be?" His expression turned serious. "You should go. Make sure you're back before Umbridge shows, yeah?" Then he scoffed quietly. "And maybe tell the lot of them to get over themselves while you're at it? It's only the first game, after all."
She smiled, though he couldn't see it. "Right, I'll do that. I guess… I'll see you around?"
He nodded absently, quickly taking stock of their surroundings. Anxiety began to settle in her stomach — she'd need to move quickly if she was going to be able to warn the rest of her House in time. She started for the exit only to find her way blocked by an arm.
"Granger, wait."
Malfoy pulled at the invisibility cloak, revealing her once more. After dropping it carelessly to the ground, he gently took her face in his hands and leaned down to slant his mouth over hers. She sighed in contentment, beginning to wind her arms over his shoulders, but he pulled back. She made an indignant sound at the loss of contact.
"Now you can go," he said with a satisfied smirk, promptly reaching down and throwing the cloak back over her head.
Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep the smile from her face. As she retreated to the bitter cold, wand in one hand and Marauder's Map in the other, he said something else, so softly that she later couldn't be certain she'd even heard him correctly.
"Thank you."