Forgive and Forget (Chapter 10)
Chapter 10: Wind and Fire
The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In another's being mingle--
Why not I with thine?
See, the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower could be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea;--
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?
~ "Love's Philosophy" by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Draco sat glumly at the Slytherin table later that afternoon, picking at his lunch. To no surprise, he found that he had very little in the way of an appetite at the moment. The events of the morning were still weighing heavily on his mind.
When Weasley and his friends had caught him with Hermione in the hallway outside the Headmistress's office, he had longed for the chance to face off with the redhead once and for all; but before either boy had been able to draw their wands, Hermione had dragged Weasley out of Draco's firing range. It still irked him that he had lost the opportunity to bring the freckly git down a few notches.
Ah, well, there was always tomorrow. Draco had a feeling Hermione was going to have a difficult time curbing her boyfriend's temper, so he might get a second go at him after all. He would just have to wait for Weasley to track him down and challenge him to a wizard's duel. It was only a matter of time.
What was really concerning Draco was what had happened - or more accurately, almost happened - between him and Hermione that morning. He had been so elated that they were the winners of the scholarship competition, and downright shocked that he had won the award he so coveted. As they had celebrated in that corridor, Draco was nearly overcome with the desire to kiss Hermione, and was almost certain that he could see a glimmer of that same desire in her own eyes before they had been interrupted by a troop of nosy Gryffindors.
With a loud clank, Draco dropped his fork on his lunch plate and let out a groan of frustration. It hadn't been the first time that he had been a hair's breadth away from expressing his feelings for Hermione and was interrupted from doing so. What would have happened if he had been allowed to finish what he started with her in that corridor? He would have kissed Hermione... and then what? She might have decided that in order to preserve her relationship with Ron, she could no longer be friends with Draco.
Draco thought that in retrospect, maybe it was a good thing they had been interrupted...
A flash of bright red hair sweeping into the Great Hall attracted his attention, and he quickly rose to his feet when he recognized Ginny Weasley heading towards the Gryffindor table. He intercepted her before she could reach it.
"Weasley, have you seen Hermione?" he asked, cutting to the chase. She eyed him speculatively.
"No, have you?"
Draco sighed in exasperation.
"Didn't she and your brother join you at the Three Broomsticks like they said they were going to?"
"No, neither of them ever came," the petite redhead replied, her face creasing into a frown. "We just figured that they were still talking and sorting things out."
Draco squirmed uncomfortably, knowing that he was at least partially to blame for Hermione's argument with her boyfriend. Oddly, he felt compelled to explain himself to Ginny.
"Look," he said. "What happened between me and Hermione in that corridor-"
"Is none of my business," Ginny cut in, somewhat coolly.
"We weren't snogging, if that's what you think!" Draco snapped.
"I believe you, Malfoy, I do. But I also believe that there's more going on between you and Hermione than either of you is willing to admit right now."
"You must hate me," Draco said dully, glaring at nothing and no one in particular. "Well, see if I care."
To his surprise, Ginny shook her head.
"Malfoy, I don't hate you. It might have taken me longer to realize than Hermione, but I know that underneath that pompous and sarcastic attitude you're actually a semi-decent person. I know you said you were only helping me get the Holyhead Harpies' tryout because of your father's investment in the team, but you still didn't have to do it. I think you did it because you felt it was the right thing to do, and... well... I'm guessing you did it for Hermione, too, and anyone who cares that much about Hermione can't be that bad of a person, in my opinion."
Draco stared at Ginny in shock, hardly daring to believe that a member of the Weasley family was actually standing before him, spouting his virtues (however few they were). Then, his thoughts instantly returned to Hermione.
"Look Weasley," he said, “if Hermione and your brother never joined you at the Three Broomsticks, there's a good chance their little fight didn't end well. You should go find her and make sure she's alright. There's this classroom on the seventh floor that you'll probably find her in..."
"I think you should go," Ginny cut in.
"What?! Are you crazy?" Draco stared at her, utterly nonplussed. He had a feeling that he was the last person Hermione wanted to see right now, not to mention the fact that he was not exactly the comforting type. Far from it, actually. He usually operated under that ‘kick them while they're down' mentality - or at least that was the way he used to operate.
"Malfoy, you understand Hermione," said Ginny. "I don't really know how, but you seem to understand her more than any of us does. I think you should go talk to her."
Draco hesitated, then simply shrugged and turned to leave.
"Fine, Weasley, whatever you say."
"Wait," Ginny said, touching his elbow so that he stopped and faced her once more. "I might not think you're the evil git you used to be, but if you do anything to hurt Hermione, I'll do things to you that'll make my Bat-Bogey Hex seem like a pleasurable experience in comparison."
Draco took in the hard set of her jaw and her blazing brown eyes and thought, not for the first time, that Ginny Weasley was a force to be reckoned with. He smirked back at her, but his eyes carried a measure of respect.
"Fair enough," he told her, and then spun on his heel to exit the Great Hall and look for Hermione.
It was no surprise to Draco that she was in the usual place - that same abandoned seventh floor classroom. She was sitting on a desk by the window, the winter sunlight streaming in over her bowed head. She didn't look up when Draco entered the room and took a seat beside her, squinting in the bright light. They sat in silence for several minutes, Hermione sniffing occasionally. From her puffy eyes and red nose, Draco deduced that she had been crying for some time, though her tears seemed momentarily spent. He had a feeling he knew what had happened between her and Weasley, but he waited for her to tell him herself.
"Ron and I broke up," Hermione said finally, wiping at her moist eyes. Then she suddenly flashed Draco a warning look. "And Draco Malfoy, if you so much as tell me ‘I told you so', or give me one of your damn, knowing smirks...."
"What do you want me to say, Hermione?"
"Nothing," she sobbed, shaking her head. "I don't want you to say anything at all."
Draco regarded her quietly for a few moments.
"All right then," he said, and in one swift movement, he reached out and pulled her gently into his arms.
They sat there for some time, with Hermione crying into his chest and Draco resting his chin on the top of her head, her curls tickling his jaw and neck. Draco was surprised at how patient he could be when he was with Hermione. Certainly, he had never been an impulsive person, having learned long ago that sometimes when there was something you wanted to gain, patience could indeed be a virtue. That was just part of being a cunning Slytherin. However, being patient when it was of no benefit to him, but to someone else, was something he had never mastered until more recently. He had never comforted anyone in this way before. He wondered how he even knew how to do it, and figured that maybe comforting someone you genuinely cared about was a thing that came naturally over time - like learning to walk.
Finally, Hermione pulled away from him, and he conjured a handkerchief for her to wipe her nose with. She gazed ruefully at the large wet spot she had created on his shirt.
"Sorry about crying all over your shirt," she mumbled, blowing her nose into the handkerchief he had given her.
"That's alright. The Malfoy house elves are good at what they do. I'm sure they'll manage to clean your snot off of it... but if not, I'll be sending you a bill for the twenty galleons it'll cost to replace it."
He had meant to lighten the mood with his usual sarcasm, and he succeeded, because Hermione chuckled and rolled her eyes.
"I think you can replace your own damn shirt, Malfoy," she said. "As I hear it, you're not exactly strapped for cash."
"That's true," he said, grinning. He liked how sometimes, when she was berating or teasing him, she still referred to him by his last name. It was her way of trying to put him in his place, and he found it oddly endearing. Sometimes he, too, would catch himself calling her ‘Granger', especially when he was baiting her. Old habits did die hard.
Now though, at moments like this, he couldn't think of her as ‘Granger'. Here, with the light streaming in the window, illuminating the golden highlights in her chestnut hair, and making the tears on her eyelashes sparkle like diamonds, she was ‘Hermione' to him. It was strange how even now - puffy eyes, red nose, and all - he found her beautiful. Hers was an unconventional beauty, and not the classic, patrician features of a girl like Astoria Greengrass, for example. With her mahogany eyes and wild curls, he saw Hermione's beauty as more earthy, like that of a forest nymph.
As if Draco's hand had somehow become a separate, sentient being that he could no longer control, it drifted up to touch the dew of tears still lingering on one of Hermione's cheeks. Cupping her cheek with his hand, he lightly drew one thumb along her skin, mopping up the moisture that rested there.
Instantly, Hermione stiffened at his touch, her eyes searching his face. Then she relaxed, letting out a long sigh that stirred the tendrils of hair that had fallen across Draco's forehead. She was so close to him, he could smell that alluring, floral scent that was so uniquely her own. The way the two of them were now positioned was remarkably similar to how they had stood together earlier that morning before they were interrupted by Weasley and Company.
This time, there were no interruptions.
Suddenly, and against all of Draco's expectations, Hermione was leaning forward and pressing her lips against his. It was his turn to stiffen momentarily in surprise, as every nerve synapse in his body fired off at the contact. However, he quickly recovered, relaxing into the kiss so that his mouth molded itself to fit hers. He could sense her hesitation; he could sense that she was thinking of pulling away, and that was something he was not willing to allow just yet. His hands shot up to bury themselves in her curls and hold her head in place as he deepened their kiss, and he noted that her hair felt every bit as soft and silky as it appeared to be.
Their lips moved slowly against each others at first, exploring and adjusting to the new sensations, but their movements quickly escalated into something more intense. Still, it wasn't enough for Draco. He nipped gently at Hermione's lips and she parted them somewhat, granting him further access. He took the opportunity to flick his tongue into her mouth, tasting the saltiness of her dried tears. She gasped at the invasion, drawing in his exhaled breath as she did so.
Hermione suddenly laced her own slender fingers into Draco's hair, and his body practically purred at the sensation of her fingernails dragging lightly against the sensitive skin of his scalp. It was almost too much - in combination with the warm light, the scent, and the taste of her - and he was unable to suppress a low moan of pleasure and longing.
The sound horrified him - not only because Draco Malfoy never allowed any girl to make him moan, but also because it seemed to jolt Hermione out of whatever spell she had been under. She came crashing back to reality, tearing herself away from him and leaving him feeling utterly bereft of her touch.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, backing away and scrambling awkwardly to her feet. "I shouldn't have done that."
Draco swallowed, trying to regain full function of his mental faculties. His blood was still whooshing through his brain too loudly for him to think clearly.
"I-I can't do this," Hermione said, stepping backwards towards the door.
"You're actions would suggest otherwise," Draco replied sourly, finally regaining his powers of speech.
"I'm so sorry," Hermione repeated, before whipping around and fleeing out the door.
Draco sat staring after her, feeling stunned and relatively disoriented, as if he had been rammed in the back of the head by a rogue bludger. This was the second time Hermione had kissed him in this empty classroom and then run away afterwards. At this thought, his shock began to dissipate, only to be replaced by anger.
What the hell was her problem, anyway? If she thought it was such a mistake to kiss him, then why did she insist on doing it, and then running away from him as if the whole scenario was somehow his fault?
Frustrated, Draco stormed out of the classroom and out into the corridor. He could see no trace of Hermione anywhere. She had probably escaped to the Gryffindor dormitories, where she knew he couldn't follow her.
Draco consoled himself with the fact that she couldn't hide from him forever.
Draco quickly realized that he may have underestimated Hermione's avoidance tactics.
Much as she had done after the mistletoe incident a few months before, she acted as if nothing at all had occurred between her and Draco. The previous time, he had been happy to feign ignorance as well, but this time he found himself discontent with the idea of pretending that nothing had happened. Hermione was as friendly as usual towards him, although he sensed that she had once more erected an invisible barrier between them. She never allowed herself to be left alone with him for any period of time; she would only study with him in groups, and would only walk the halls with him if someone else was present. Draco had a feeling Hermione was purposely trying to avoid any situation where he would have the opportunity to discuss their forbidden kiss.
Over time, he found himself becoming more and more angered by her perpetual dodging. He was haunted by that kiss; not only in his dreams, but during the daylight hours as well. It was as if Hermione was some intoxicating and highly-addictive potion that he had been allowed one sip of, and then been denied the right of ever tasting it again. He couldn't get her out of his mind, and this irked him to no end. With one kiss, Hermione had transformed him into a lovesick (or more aptly, "lust-sick") fool, and yet she seemed completely unfazed by the entire situation, going about her daily life as if nothing at all had changed between them.
Two weeks after that stolen kiss, Draco finally reached his breaking point.
It was late February, and the Seventh Year Defense Against the Dark Arts class was still practicing elemental magic. Hermione had now progressed to a stage where she could conjure fire out of thin air without the use of a wand, and Professor Hong had proclaimed her a true Pyromancer. She was not alone in her success, however. Not long after she had discovered her talents with fire, Draco's skills of manipulating air and wind had also surfaced. Now, after several weeks of practice, he had emerged as a true Aeromancer. Hermione and Draco's fellow classmates had had varying degrees of success with manipulating their own elements, but the only person who was even close to approaching their skill level was Luna Lovegood, who was showing real potential with her manipulation of water.
As Draco and Hermione's abilities had increased, Professor Hong had requested that they no longer sit near each other while they were practicing, out of concern that their elements would collide in a dangerous way. The irony of this situation was not lost on Draco. Apparently, even his and Hermione's powers couldn't get too close to each other without things getting out of hand.
It was near the end of class one Monday morning when the incident occurred. Draco was practicing his Aeromancy, lazily causing a dozen white feathers to float in the air in front of him. One of the Hufflepuff students had accidentally burned himself while attempting to manipulate fire and Professor Hong had escorted the boy to the hospital wing, leaving the class momentarily unsupervised.
With a yawn of boredom, Draco glanced over to where Hermione was trying to help Ginny with her Pyromancy. He watched in admiration as Hermione conjured a ball of fire and expanded it to create convoluted shapes in the air - a ring, followed by a spiral, and finally an intricate starburst pattern. From where he stood, he could see the edges of her irises glowing in the golden color that was the sign of a true Pyromancer, according to Professor Hong.
Wishing to grab Hermione's attention, Draco conjured a gentle breeze that caused one of his feathers to drift over in her direction. It swirled elegantly through the air, tickled her cheek, and then drifted in a slow circle around her. Hermione glanced over at Draco and he gave her a smarmy wink. She raised her eyebrows at him and with a flick of her wrist, sent a blast of fire at his feather, reducing it to a little pile of ash on the floor. Then, she looked up and smirked at him before returning her attentions to Ginny.
Draco’s body practically hummed with desire after watching Hermione's artful display of Pyromancy. Power was a potent aphrodisiac for a Malfoy, but the resurgence of his physical need for Hermione stirred his anger towards her as well. There she was, still focusing all of her attention on Ginny, after she had effectively dismissed him once more. Well, Draco was having none of it.
He focused very carefully on the air surrounding Hermione, and with a twirl of his hand, managed to create a sudden gust of wind that blew her hair up and over her head, covering her face beneath a mop of curls. She reached up to part her hair, glaring out at him as if from between two curtain panels, before flipping her curls back into their normal position.
"What is your problem, Malfoy?" she seethed.
"Don't worry, Granger," Draco said, leering at her, “I'm sure that if you just ignore me long enough, I'll go away. That's how you like to deal with all of your problems, isn't it? Just ignore them and pretend they're not there."
Hermione's scowl deepened and she raised her hand to make a slashing motion through the air, sending a small fireball soaring over to land on the hem of Draco's school robes.
Draco yelped as his robes caught fire, threatening to ignite his trouser leg as well. He hastily whipped out his wand and used an Aguamenti charm to douse the blaze with a stream of water. His robes were irreparably burnt and still smoking somewhat as he looked up and saw the triumphant expression on Hermione's face.
"You'll pay for that, Granger," he said in a low, furious voice. He reached out once more to exercise his powers, this time creating a powerful wind that rushed upwards beneath Hermione's feet, lifting her school robes. To his delight, Hermione had chosen to wear a skirt beneath her robes that day, and that too was lifted up, briefly revealing a peek of her sensible pink cotton knickers for the entire class to see.
Hermione shrieked, trying desperately to pull her clothing back down, and everyone else gasped, some of the more crass male students chuckling at her predicament. Ginny looked aghast, Dean looked uneasy, and Luna was frowning. Draco, however, was laughing so hard that he lost his focus on the enchantment, and the wind encircling Hermione ceased, causing her robe and skirt to drop back into place.
Immediately, she stalked over to Draco, her chest heaving and her brown eyes flashing with gold sparks of rage. She looked uncharacteristically livid.
Good, Draco thought to himself. Now Hermione was finally experiencing some of the anger he had carried inside of himself for the past two weeks. She was no longer passive, or feigning ignorance, or dismissing him as if he was nothing but a pesky little fly. He had finally managed to capture her attention.
Draco also noted that Hermione looked very sexy when she was angry. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to throttle her or snog her senseless, and even in his distracted state of mind, he found it rather odd that she could simultaneously ignite both of those desires in him.
Everyone in the class formed a circle around the pair, intently watching the confrontation.
"Back down," Hermione said through clenched teeth.
"You first, Granger," Draco said in a cool voice, surveying her with feigned indifference. "After all, running away from a situation is what you do best these days."
"You don't know what you're talking about," she hissed. "I've faced bigger and more powerful opponents than you, Draco Malfoy. If you insist on acting like a complete arse, you may get more than you bargained for."
Draco merely folded his arms across her chest and gave her his best Malfoy sneer.
"You won't do anything to me," he said in a challenging tone. "You don't have the nerve."
The next instant, Draco's eyes widened involuntarily as Hermione conjured the largest ball of fire he had yet seen her create. Everyone else in the class backed away in terror, but Draco stood his ground, his eyes narrowed and his irises glowing with silver light. Reaching deep within him, Draco summoned every ounce of power he possessed and conjured a large whirlwind in between him and Hermione. At the same moment, the two of them let loose their creations on each other.
Hermione's fireball and Draco's whirlwind collided in the space between them, forming a towering inferno. They pushed against each other with their magic, but they were equally matched in skill, neither able to overpower the other. Therefore, their powers only served to feed into the conflagration to make it grow slowly larger as the stone floor blistered and blackened beneath it.
Draco noticed that most of the class had evacuated the vicinity, although Ginny, Dean, and Luna remained nearby, pleading with them to stop, their words lost in the roar of the firestorm. But suddenly, a deep, powerful voice managed to cut through the din.
"ENOUGH!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Professor Hong approaching, having returned to the Great Hall after delivering the Hufflepuff student to the infirmary.
Instantly, Draco and Hermione both released their hold on their powers, but this proved to be a mistake. Without either of its creators keeping it in check, the whirling flames began to spin out of control. For a moment, Draco saw it flying in his direction faster than he could dodge it, and he closed his eyes, certain that in the next few seconds he was going to be completely incinerated.
Instead of being scalded to death, Draco experienced a sudden deluge of lukewarm water splashing down on top of his head. Shocked, he opened his eyes, swiped his sopping wet hair out of his face, and blinked several times to clear his vision.
Hermione was still standing roughly where she had been before, looking just as stunned and soaked as he was, with her curls dripping around her face in a bedraggled manner. The blaze he and Hermione had created was gone, presumably smothered by the sudden gush of water that had struck them both. Nothing but blackened tiles and a cloud of smoke remained where the fiery maelstrom had once been.
Draco finally noticed Luna Lovegood standing not far away, her eyes wide, and the irises slightly bluer than usual - a vivid shade of cerulean - before fading back to their usual cornflower color. As Draco glanced around him, he saw that several of the buckets of water the students had been practicing with were lying upturned and empty on the floor. That was when he realized that Luna had used her own skills to withdraw all the water from the buckets and direct it towards dousing the out-of-control flames before they struck Draco and Hermione.
The next thing Draco noticed was Professor Hong, coming to stand imperiously before them. Although the instructor's face remained as unyielding as usual, his eyes were flashing with fury. He was calm and contained, yet intimidating in a way that reminded Draco of the late Professor Dumbledore. His voice, when he spoke, was surprisingly soft.
"What the two of you just did could have resulted in you or your classmates being severely injured - or worse," he said. "I would have expected more common sense and self-control for students of your age and experience. I confess myself deeply disappointed in your thoughtless, childish display here today."
Indeed, Professor Hong's dark eyes were full of disappointment, and even Draco flinched somewhat beneath his gaze. Again, Draco was reminded strongly of Albus Dumbledore, whose disappointment in a student could elicit a pang of conscience more painful than any angry tirade ever could. Draco was glad, in this case, that he did not have much of a conscience to begin with. However, Hermione, who Draco had always thought possessed a bit too much of a conscience, was hanging her head and appeared close to tears.
"Twenty points shall be taken from each of your houses for your reckless behavior," Professor Hong continued. "And you will each write an essay - no less than three feet of parchment - on how to safely and intelligently use elemental magic, to be handed in to me by the end of the week. If you ever conduct yourselves in this manner in my classroom again, you will be asked to leave and not return. Do I make myself quite clear?"
Hermione and Draco both nodded and mumbled apologies, after which, Professor Hong turned to Luna.
"Ms. Lovegood," he said, "twenty points will be awarded to Ravenclaw for your quick thinking in diffusing a dangerous situation."
Luna nodded, but did not smile in response to the awarded house points. Her facial expression was much less distant and dreamy than usual, and her gaze was shifting rapidly back and forth between Draco and Hermione.
Professor Hong's almond-shaped eyes swept over his silent, shell-shocked students.
"Class is dismissed," he said, and everyone scrambled towards the door, whispering to each other and sneaking furtive glances in Draco and Hermione's direction.
Draco watched as Ginny put a comforting hand on Hermione's arm and started leading her out of the Great Hall. A few tears started to slip down Hermione's cheeks, and he suddenly began to feel guilty about having provoked her. During their brief friendship, they had certainly had their fair share of arguments, but none had ever escalated to the point where they actually used magic against each other.
Draco felt a strange and sudden need to apologize to Hermione, and to explain his actions. He made a few steps in her direction, calling out her name. Hearing him, she turned around, and her cinnamon colored eyes still carried a flicker of anger, despite the tears now welling up inside them.
"Just stay away from me, Malfoy," she said in a surprisingly level voice.
When she turned to leave, Draco made to follow, despite the warning look that Ginny was now flashing in his direction. He was only restrained by a gentle grip on his arm. Glancing over, he saw Luna Lovegood standing beside him, giving him an uncharacteristic, penetrating look.
"Let her go, Draco," she gently implored. "I think she's too upset to talk to you right now."
Unwillingly, Draco allowed himself to be held in place by the Ravenclaw, watching as Hermione and Ginny exited the Great Hall. Once they were gone, Luna released her grip on his arm, but she did not leave his side just yet.
"Why did you do that to Hermione?" she asked him. As her voice was void of any accusation, it appeared that her question was motivated purely by curiosity.
"I... she... well, she was ignoring me," Draco said sullenly. Then he scuffed his toe along the stone floor in discomfort, suddenly feeling like a petulant child.
Thankfully, Luna did not voice a like-minded opinion about his behavior. Instead, as she was sometimes known to do, she said something that demonstrated her startling honesty and insightfulness in these types of situations.
"I think Hermione cares about you very much, Draco, but I also think that her feelings for you are confusing and a bit scary for her, especially since she only broke up with Ron a few weeks ago. I think you need to give her a little more time."
Draco turned quickly to look at Luna, stunned by the girl's revelation, and the forthright way she had discussed his relationship with Hermione. He had had no clue that his feelings for the curly-haired Gryffindor were that obvious, and was frightened by the idea that they might become widely-known. To his relief, Luna quickly returned to her usual abstractedness.
"You know, you and Hermione remind me of a pair of Umgubular Slashkilters," she said.
When Draco raised his eyebrows at her, Luna went on to explain.
"Apparently Umgubular Slashkilters have a very interesting mating ritual. When a male approaches a female, the female viciously attacks him to determine whether or not he is worthy of being her mate. If he survives the encounter, then she accepts him. Otherwise... well, otherwise the male Slashkilter is killed and eaten by the female. But other than that, it's sort of romantic, isn't it?"
"Uh... riiiight," Draco drawled, thinking that there were a few other words for what Luna had just told him - odd, disturbing, and likely to be a complete figment of her father's dangerously overactive imagination. "Look, Lovegood, I've got to go change out of these wet clothes before my next class. I'll see you later, okay?"
With that he left the Great Hall and whisked through the corridors on his way down to the dungeons, still feeling cantankerous. He barked at any students who had the misfortune of straying into his path, and those who opened their mouths to question him on the state of his clothing were quickly silenced by his steely-eyed glare.
When he arrived in his dormitory and saw his scorched and sopping wet reflection in the full length mirror hanging on the wall, it did nothing to improve his mood. Glowering at the sight, he began stripping off all of his damp clothes, and as he did so, his thoughts returned to his altercation with Hermione. He was fuming with anger - but this time he was just as angry with himself as he was with her.
As Draco ripped off his wet tie and ruined school robes, he thought about Luna Lovegood's observations. Draco grudgingly understood the Ravenclaw's point; Hermione had only been dumped by Weasley a few weeks before, and he knew that there was supposed to be some sort of "mourning period" after a relationship ended before getting involved with someone else. He supposed that snogging a new guy on the same day you broke up with your boyfriend was generally frowned upon, at least by people with any sense of decency (Draco wouldn't really know, having rarely been afflicted with that particular malady in his lifetime). He also realized that he should follow Luna's advice and be patient with Hermione, but he was finding it impossible to do so, and that concerned him.
Draco sighed, tugging off his trousers and then removing his damp, white shirt. For all his faults, he could be incredibly patient when he needed to be. If he were acting rationally, he would simply lie in wait until the right circumstances came along before trying to claim Hermione's affections. Or he would orchestrate a subtle and intricate plan to lure her into his arms. This is how he had won many girls in the past.
But somehow, things were different with Hermione. If the truth be told, he had never allowed his thoughts to dwell this much on a girl before - not with Pansy, or any of the other conquests he had had over the years. He had never felt the same aching need for them, as he did for Hermione. It was a weakness, and as a Malfoy, he despised weakness.
The problem, he knew, was that it had been far too long since he had been properly shagged. That would explain his apparent inability to control himself around Hermione Granger. It had been difficult, after his trial by the Wizengamot last spring, to find a girl who was willing to shag a former Death Eater like him. Well, he had never really been a full-fledged Death Eater, but he was so ostracized by the Wizarding community that he might as well have been.
Lately, however, he seemed to be regaining some of his old appeal among the girls at Hogwarts, especially those residing in his own house. Over time, he had noticed more of those flirtatious smiles and longing female glances that he once been accustomed to receiving in the school halls. Though he had not taken advantage of them so far this term, he thought it would be foolish for him not to do so in the future. What he really needed was to get a good lay, and soon, before he did anything else stupid. As it was, Draco was afraid that after the blow-up in DADA class, his fragile friendship with Hermione had been replaced by their former enmity, and this bothered him more than he cared to admit.
Draco threw open the lid of his trunk and pulled out a fresh, dry uniform and set of school robes. He pulled on his pants, but had not yet begun to button up his shirt when he heard a soft knock on the dorm room door.
"Who is it?" he snapped, not exactly interested in company at the moment.
"Draco? It's Astoria."
Draco stomped over to the door and flung it open just wide enough to stick out his head and glare at the diminutive blonde standing outside.
"What do you want?"
"I - I came to see if you were alright," Astoria stammered, obviously startled by his anger. "Can I come in?"
With a resigned sigh, Draco held the door open for her and allowed her inside, before letting it slam shut behind her. She jumped at the loud sound, whipping around to face him. Her eyes widened when she saw the expanse of bare chest peeking out between the folds of his unbuttoned shirt, his skin scarcely darker than the white material.
"What happened between you and Hermione?" Astoria asked, finally tearing her eyes away from his chest and raising them back to his face. "The whole school's talking about the confrontation you two had in Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"We had a little disagreement," Draco said wryly, starting on buttoning his shirt from the bottom up.
"A ‘little disagreement'? Draco, they said you both nearly blew up the Great Hall."
"Yeah well, why would you care, anyway?" he growled, abandoning the act of closing his shirt.
"I care, Draco," she whispered. "I... I care because I care about you."
Astoria tentatively reached out with her small hand to touch the bare skin of his chest, running her fingers lightly across his pectorals. Draco could not help himself from sucking in his breath at the gentle contact. His eyes flashed up at the girl, looking at her as if he were seeing her for the first time.
"It's a mistake to care about me, Astoria," he said, his voice dark with warning. "I'm not exactly a nice person."
"I'm a Slytherin like you, Draco. ‘Nice' boys aren't exactly my cup of tea."
She smiled up at him, her dark brown eyes brimming with desire. Her intensity surprised Draco, considering that she was only sixteen years old. Then again, when he was sixteen, he hadn't exactly been a little cherub himself.
"Draco," Astoria continued. "Whatever's bothering you, whatever's making you upset...I can help you forget it, if you let me."
She leaned suggestively closer, one hand reaching up to brush his wet hair off of his forehead, while the other remained splayed on his chest. Draco stared at her in contemplation. Astoria really was a beautiful witch, and she had all of the qualities that he had been raised to look for in a woman - she was intelligent, well-mannered, and a Pureblood. Her family was wealthy and in good standing, and had remained so even after the war because they had never been involved with Voldemort. Draco's family was reasonably well-acquainted with her own; her older sister, Daphne, had been in Draco's year at school and was now dating Blaise Zabini, if he recalled correctly. He had lost contact with most of his old Slytherin friends after the war, so he couldn't be certain.
Yes, Astoria Greengrass was everything a wealthy, well-educated, Pureblood wizard like Draco could ever want. He had thought that he needed a good shag to get over Hermione, and here this girl stood, offering herself up like a lamb to the slaughter...
Without thinking any further on the matter, he pushed her up against the closed door and crushed her lips with his own. She gasped in surprise at the sudden and almost brutal manner in which he was kissing her, but her gasp quickly evolved into a soft moan of need. Draco kissed her harder and harder - to the point where he was sure that both their mouths would be bruised and swollen afterwards. In the back of his mind, he thought that the harder he kissed her, the quicker he could purge the memory of Hermione's kiss from his mind. His hands wrapped around Astoria's back, encountering a long braid of blond hair that was a few shades darker than his own. That was when he froze and pulled away.
There was something innocent and childlike about Astoria's braid, which made him feel lecherous for using her in this way, especially since the mingled anxiety, confusion and earnestness he saw in her eyes made him strongly suspect that she was a virgin. While the old Draco Malfoy had no compunction against deflowering virgins for dishonest purposes, the new Draco Malfoy was put off by the idea. Apparently, and to his immense irritation, he had developed a bit of a conscience after all.
Besides, he had a feeling that shagging Astoria Greengrass was not going to be enough to get his addiction to Hermione out of his system.
"You're just a naïve little girl," he muttered, pushing the pretty Slytherin away from him, albeit gently.
Looking angry and hurt, Astoria turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Once she was gone, Draco gave the door a frustrated kick.
He couldn't believe that he had been unable to allow himself to press his advantage with a willing and worthwhile bed partner. He knew it was all Hermione's fault. She might as well have put a Castration Charm on him! For all he knew, she probably had. She could be a sneaky little wench when she wanted to be. Maybe she had secretly hit him with some sort of curse that only allowed him to seek physical pleasure from her and no one else.
At this rate, Draco was never going to be able to have sex again. He thought it was really a crime against humanity - or the female portion of it at least.
Quickly, he finished dressing himself and tore out of the Slytherin dormitory, up the staircase, out of the dungeons, and through the front doors of Hogwarts. If he wasn't going to shag Astoria Greengrass, then he needed a different way to vent his frustration. He still had forty-five minutes until Potions class, and he would spend them doing the only other thing that could bring him some semblance of peace.
Minutes later, Draco was on his broomstick, blazing circles around the Quidditch pitch, the wind drying the remaining moisture from his hair. The faster he flew, the more he felt every muscle in his body relax. Soon he was flying so fast that the empty spectator stands were nothing but a colorful blur in his peripheral vision.
If anything, he thought sardonically, all this sexual tension will make me a menace in the next Quidditch match.
Slytherin had continued to do well this season, and were poised to clinch the championship in a few months if all went according to plan. It would be Slytherin's first time being Quidditch champions since before Draco had started at Hogwarts. Sadly, the thought was not giving him much joy at the moment.
Since he had neglected to bring any gloves with him before leaving the castle, his hands were freezing as they gripped his Nimbus2001. Nevertheless, he briefly closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of the cold air blowing against his face, ruffling his hair. He realized now why his element was Wind. Somehow, his mind was always so much clearer when he was fifty meters off of the ground, leaving all of his concerns far below him. Yet, he had a feeling that even if he flew high into the stratosphere, he wouldn't be able to leave behind the predicament that was Hermione Granger.
Suddenly, he was reminded of how Luna had compared them to a pair of Umgubular Slashkilters. That his and Hermione's relationship resembled the mating ritual of a violent and cannibalistic creature was not very reassuring (even if said creature was mythological). Draco wondered if, like a female Slashkilter, Hermione was testing him in some way to make sure that he was worthy of her. Would he pass the test in the end? Could she ever find him worthy enough of being with her? It irritated Draco that he was even asking himself these questions now, when in the past, he had always been more concerned about a girl being worthy of him. Still, he figured that he was better off than a male Slashkilter in at least one regard: Hermione wouldn't eat him alive if he failed to live up to her expectations.
Draco shook his head. He knew that he had to find a way to tell Hermione how he felt about her. But then again, what exactly did he feel for her? Friendship? Certainly. Lust? He smirked to himself. Well, obviously he felt that as well. But he had a feeling that lust and friendship would not be enough for a girl like Hermione. Eventually she would want something more, and Draco wasn't sure if he could give it to her. He wasn't even sure he knew how. Luna had said that she thought Hermione cared about him very much - how much, exactly? And in what way?
Suddenly, the chimes of the massive school clock drifted over to Draco on the crisp winter air, announcing that he had only fifteen minutes to get to his next class. With a sigh, he began lowering his broom back towards the ground, all the while trying to brainstorm a way to apologize to Hermione for his actions, make her realize that he wished to pursue a physical relationship with her, and avoid giving her high expectations for anything more permanent than friendship to ever develop between them.
On second thought, maybe those male Umgubular Slashkilters had it easy.
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Table of Contents
The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In another's being mingle--
Why not I with thine?
See, the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower could be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea;--
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?
~ "Love's Philosophy" by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Draco sat glumly at the Slytherin table later that afternoon, picking at his lunch. To no surprise, he found that he had very little in the way of an appetite at the moment. The events of the morning were still weighing heavily on his mind.
When Weasley and his friends had caught him with Hermione in the hallway outside the Headmistress's office, he had longed for the chance to face off with the redhead once and for all; but before either boy had been able to draw their wands, Hermione had dragged Weasley out of Draco's firing range. It still irked him that he had lost the opportunity to bring the freckly git down a few notches.
Ah, well, there was always tomorrow. Draco had a feeling Hermione was going to have a difficult time curbing her boyfriend's temper, so he might get a second go at him after all. He would just have to wait for Weasley to track him down and challenge him to a wizard's duel. It was only a matter of time.
What was really concerning Draco was what had happened - or more accurately, almost happened - between him and Hermione that morning. He had been so elated that they were the winners of the scholarship competition, and downright shocked that he had won the award he so coveted. As they had celebrated in that corridor, Draco was nearly overcome with the desire to kiss Hermione, and was almost certain that he could see a glimmer of that same desire in her own eyes before they had been interrupted by a troop of nosy Gryffindors.
With a loud clank, Draco dropped his fork on his lunch plate and let out a groan of frustration. It hadn't been the first time that he had been a hair's breadth away from expressing his feelings for Hermione and was interrupted from doing so. What would have happened if he had been allowed to finish what he started with her in that corridor? He would have kissed Hermione... and then what? She might have decided that in order to preserve her relationship with Ron, she could no longer be friends with Draco.
Draco thought that in retrospect, maybe it was a good thing they had been interrupted...
A flash of bright red hair sweeping into the Great Hall attracted his attention, and he quickly rose to his feet when he recognized Ginny Weasley heading towards the Gryffindor table. He intercepted her before she could reach it.
"Weasley, have you seen Hermione?" he asked, cutting to the chase. She eyed him speculatively.
"No, have you?"
Draco sighed in exasperation.
"Didn't she and your brother join you at the Three Broomsticks like they said they were going to?"
"No, neither of them ever came," the petite redhead replied, her face creasing into a frown. "We just figured that they were still talking and sorting things out."
Draco squirmed uncomfortably, knowing that he was at least partially to blame for Hermione's argument with her boyfriend. Oddly, he felt compelled to explain himself to Ginny.
"Look," he said. "What happened between me and Hermione in that corridor-"
"Is none of my business," Ginny cut in, somewhat coolly.
"We weren't snogging, if that's what you think!" Draco snapped.
"I believe you, Malfoy, I do. But I also believe that there's more going on between you and Hermione than either of you is willing to admit right now."
"You must hate me," Draco said dully, glaring at nothing and no one in particular. "Well, see if I care."
To his surprise, Ginny shook her head.
"Malfoy, I don't hate you. It might have taken me longer to realize than Hermione, but I know that underneath that pompous and sarcastic attitude you're actually a semi-decent person. I know you said you were only helping me get the Holyhead Harpies' tryout because of your father's investment in the team, but you still didn't have to do it. I think you did it because you felt it was the right thing to do, and... well... I'm guessing you did it for Hermione, too, and anyone who cares that much about Hermione can't be that bad of a person, in my opinion."
Draco stared at Ginny in shock, hardly daring to believe that a member of the Weasley family was actually standing before him, spouting his virtues (however few they were). Then, his thoughts instantly returned to Hermione.
"Look Weasley," he said, “if Hermione and your brother never joined you at the Three Broomsticks, there's a good chance their little fight didn't end well. You should go find her and make sure she's alright. There's this classroom on the seventh floor that you'll probably find her in..."
"I think you should go," Ginny cut in.
"What?! Are you crazy?" Draco stared at her, utterly nonplussed. He had a feeling that he was the last person Hermione wanted to see right now, not to mention the fact that he was not exactly the comforting type. Far from it, actually. He usually operated under that ‘kick them while they're down' mentality - or at least that was the way he used to operate.
"Malfoy, you understand Hermione," said Ginny. "I don't really know how, but you seem to understand her more than any of us does. I think you should go talk to her."
Draco hesitated, then simply shrugged and turned to leave.
"Fine, Weasley, whatever you say."
"Wait," Ginny said, touching his elbow so that he stopped and faced her once more. "I might not think you're the evil git you used to be, but if you do anything to hurt Hermione, I'll do things to you that'll make my Bat-Bogey Hex seem like a pleasurable experience in comparison."
Draco took in the hard set of her jaw and her blazing brown eyes and thought, not for the first time, that Ginny Weasley was a force to be reckoned with. He smirked back at her, but his eyes carried a measure of respect.
"Fair enough," he told her, and then spun on his heel to exit the Great Hall and look for Hermione.
It was no surprise to Draco that she was in the usual place - that same abandoned seventh floor classroom. She was sitting on a desk by the window, the winter sunlight streaming in over her bowed head. She didn't look up when Draco entered the room and took a seat beside her, squinting in the bright light. They sat in silence for several minutes, Hermione sniffing occasionally. From her puffy eyes and red nose, Draco deduced that she had been crying for some time, though her tears seemed momentarily spent. He had a feeling he knew what had happened between her and Weasley, but he waited for her to tell him herself.
"Ron and I broke up," Hermione said finally, wiping at her moist eyes. Then she suddenly flashed Draco a warning look. "And Draco Malfoy, if you so much as tell me ‘I told you so', or give me one of your damn, knowing smirks...."
"What do you want me to say, Hermione?"
"Nothing," she sobbed, shaking her head. "I don't want you to say anything at all."
Draco regarded her quietly for a few moments.
"All right then," he said, and in one swift movement, he reached out and pulled her gently into his arms.
They sat there for some time, with Hermione crying into his chest and Draco resting his chin on the top of her head, her curls tickling his jaw and neck. Draco was surprised at how patient he could be when he was with Hermione. Certainly, he had never been an impulsive person, having learned long ago that sometimes when there was something you wanted to gain, patience could indeed be a virtue. That was just part of being a cunning Slytherin. However, being patient when it was of no benefit to him, but to someone else, was something he had never mastered until more recently. He had never comforted anyone in this way before. He wondered how he even knew how to do it, and figured that maybe comforting someone you genuinely cared about was a thing that came naturally over time - like learning to walk.
Finally, Hermione pulled away from him, and he conjured a handkerchief for her to wipe her nose with. She gazed ruefully at the large wet spot she had created on his shirt.
"Sorry about crying all over your shirt," she mumbled, blowing her nose into the handkerchief he had given her.
"That's alright. The Malfoy house elves are good at what they do. I'm sure they'll manage to clean your snot off of it... but if not, I'll be sending you a bill for the twenty galleons it'll cost to replace it."
He had meant to lighten the mood with his usual sarcasm, and he succeeded, because Hermione chuckled and rolled her eyes.
"I think you can replace your own damn shirt, Malfoy," she said. "As I hear it, you're not exactly strapped for cash."
"That's true," he said, grinning. He liked how sometimes, when she was berating or teasing him, she still referred to him by his last name. It was her way of trying to put him in his place, and he found it oddly endearing. Sometimes he, too, would catch himself calling her ‘Granger', especially when he was baiting her. Old habits did die hard.
Now though, at moments like this, he couldn't think of her as ‘Granger'. Here, with the light streaming in the window, illuminating the golden highlights in her chestnut hair, and making the tears on her eyelashes sparkle like diamonds, she was ‘Hermione' to him. It was strange how even now - puffy eyes, red nose, and all - he found her beautiful. Hers was an unconventional beauty, and not the classic, patrician features of a girl like Astoria Greengrass, for example. With her mahogany eyes and wild curls, he saw Hermione's beauty as more earthy, like that of a forest nymph.
As if Draco's hand had somehow become a separate, sentient being that he could no longer control, it drifted up to touch the dew of tears still lingering on one of Hermione's cheeks. Cupping her cheek with his hand, he lightly drew one thumb along her skin, mopping up the moisture that rested there.
Instantly, Hermione stiffened at his touch, her eyes searching his face. Then she relaxed, letting out a long sigh that stirred the tendrils of hair that had fallen across Draco's forehead. She was so close to him, he could smell that alluring, floral scent that was so uniquely her own. The way the two of them were now positioned was remarkably similar to how they had stood together earlier that morning before they were interrupted by Weasley and Company.
This time, there were no interruptions.
Suddenly, and against all of Draco's expectations, Hermione was leaning forward and pressing her lips against his. It was his turn to stiffen momentarily in surprise, as every nerve synapse in his body fired off at the contact. However, he quickly recovered, relaxing into the kiss so that his mouth molded itself to fit hers. He could sense her hesitation; he could sense that she was thinking of pulling away, and that was something he was not willing to allow just yet. His hands shot up to bury themselves in her curls and hold her head in place as he deepened their kiss, and he noted that her hair felt every bit as soft and silky as it appeared to be.
Their lips moved slowly against each others at first, exploring and adjusting to the new sensations, but their movements quickly escalated into something more intense. Still, it wasn't enough for Draco. He nipped gently at Hermione's lips and she parted them somewhat, granting him further access. He took the opportunity to flick his tongue into her mouth, tasting the saltiness of her dried tears. She gasped at the invasion, drawing in his exhaled breath as she did so.
Hermione suddenly laced her own slender fingers into Draco's hair, and his body practically purred at the sensation of her fingernails dragging lightly against the sensitive skin of his scalp. It was almost too much - in combination with the warm light, the scent, and the taste of her - and he was unable to suppress a low moan of pleasure and longing.
The sound horrified him - not only because Draco Malfoy never allowed any girl to make him moan, but also because it seemed to jolt Hermione out of whatever spell she had been under. She came crashing back to reality, tearing herself away from him and leaving him feeling utterly bereft of her touch.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, backing away and scrambling awkwardly to her feet. "I shouldn't have done that."
Draco swallowed, trying to regain full function of his mental faculties. His blood was still whooshing through his brain too loudly for him to think clearly.
"I-I can't do this," Hermione said, stepping backwards towards the door.
"You're actions would suggest otherwise," Draco replied sourly, finally regaining his powers of speech.
"I'm so sorry," Hermione repeated, before whipping around and fleeing out the door.
Draco sat staring after her, feeling stunned and relatively disoriented, as if he had been rammed in the back of the head by a rogue bludger. This was the second time Hermione had kissed him in this empty classroom and then run away afterwards. At this thought, his shock began to dissipate, only to be replaced by anger.
What the hell was her problem, anyway? If she thought it was such a mistake to kiss him, then why did she insist on doing it, and then running away from him as if the whole scenario was somehow his fault?
Frustrated, Draco stormed out of the classroom and out into the corridor. He could see no trace of Hermione anywhere. She had probably escaped to the Gryffindor dormitories, where she knew he couldn't follow her.
Draco consoled himself with the fact that she couldn't hide from him forever.
Draco quickly realized that he may have underestimated Hermione's avoidance tactics.
Much as she had done after the mistletoe incident a few months before, she acted as if nothing at all had occurred between her and Draco. The previous time, he had been happy to feign ignorance as well, but this time he found himself discontent with the idea of pretending that nothing had happened. Hermione was as friendly as usual towards him, although he sensed that she had once more erected an invisible barrier between them. She never allowed herself to be left alone with him for any period of time; she would only study with him in groups, and would only walk the halls with him if someone else was present. Draco had a feeling Hermione was purposely trying to avoid any situation where he would have the opportunity to discuss their forbidden kiss.
Over time, he found himself becoming more and more angered by her perpetual dodging. He was haunted by that kiss; not only in his dreams, but during the daylight hours as well. It was as if Hermione was some intoxicating and highly-addictive potion that he had been allowed one sip of, and then been denied the right of ever tasting it again. He couldn't get her out of his mind, and this irked him to no end. With one kiss, Hermione had transformed him into a lovesick (or more aptly, "lust-sick") fool, and yet she seemed completely unfazed by the entire situation, going about her daily life as if nothing at all had changed between them.
Two weeks after that stolen kiss, Draco finally reached his breaking point.
It was late February, and the Seventh Year Defense Against the Dark Arts class was still practicing elemental magic. Hermione had now progressed to a stage where she could conjure fire out of thin air without the use of a wand, and Professor Hong had proclaimed her a true Pyromancer. She was not alone in her success, however. Not long after she had discovered her talents with fire, Draco's skills of manipulating air and wind had also surfaced. Now, after several weeks of practice, he had emerged as a true Aeromancer. Hermione and Draco's fellow classmates had had varying degrees of success with manipulating their own elements, but the only person who was even close to approaching their skill level was Luna Lovegood, who was showing real potential with her manipulation of water.
As Draco and Hermione's abilities had increased, Professor Hong had requested that they no longer sit near each other while they were practicing, out of concern that their elements would collide in a dangerous way. The irony of this situation was not lost on Draco. Apparently, even his and Hermione's powers couldn't get too close to each other without things getting out of hand.
It was near the end of class one Monday morning when the incident occurred. Draco was practicing his Aeromancy, lazily causing a dozen white feathers to float in the air in front of him. One of the Hufflepuff students had accidentally burned himself while attempting to manipulate fire and Professor Hong had escorted the boy to the hospital wing, leaving the class momentarily unsupervised.
With a yawn of boredom, Draco glanced over to where Hermione was trying to help Ginny with her Pyromancy. He watched in admiration as Hermione conjured a ball of fire and expanded it to create convoluted shapes in the air - a ring, followed by a spiral, and finally an intricate starburst pattern. From where he stood, he could see the edges of her irises glowing in the golden color that was the sign of a true Pyromancer, according to Professor Hong.
Wishing to grab Hermione's attention, Draco conjured a gentle breeze that caused one of his feathers to drift over in her direction. It swirled elegantly through the air, tickled her cheek, and then drifted in a slow circle around her. Hermione glanced over at Draco and he gave her a smarmy wink. She raised her eyebrows at him and with a flick of her wrist, sent a blast of fire at his feather, reducing it to a little pile of ash on the floor. Then, she looked up and smirked at him before returning her attentions to Ginny.
Draco’s body practically hummed with desire after watching Hermione's artful display of Pyromancy. Power was a potent aphrodisiac for a Malfoy, but the resurgence of his physical need for Hermione stirred his anger towards her as well. There she was, still focusing all of her attention on Ginny, after she had effectively dismissed him once more. Well, Draco was having none of it.
He focused very carefully on the air surrounding Hermione, and with a twirl of his hand, managed to create a sudden gust of wind that blew her hair up and over her head, covering her face beneath a mop of curls. She reached up to part her hair, glaring out at him as if from between two curtain panels, before flipping her curls back into their normal position.
"What is your problem, Malfoy?" she seethed.
"Don't worry, Granger," Draco said, leering at her, “I'm sure that if you just ignore me long enough, I'll go away. That's how you like to deal with all of your problems, isn't it? Just ignore them and pretend they're not there."
Hermione's scowl deepened and she raised her hand to make a slashing motion through the air, sending a small fireball soaring over to land on the hem of Draco's school robes.
Draco yelped as his robes caught fire, threatening to ignite his trouser leg as well. He hastily whipped out his wand and used an Aguamenti charm to douse the blaze with a stream of water. His robes were irreparably burnt and still smoking somewhat as he looked up and saw the triumphant expression on Hermione's face.
"You'll pay for that, Granger," he said in a low, furious voice. He reached out once more to exercise his powers, this time creating a powerful wind that rushed upwards beneath Hermione's feet, lifting her school robes. To his delight, Hermione had chosen to wear a skirt beneath her robes that day, and that too was lifted up, briefly revealing a peek of her sensible pink cotton knickers for the entire class to see.
Hermione shrieked, trying desperately to pull her clothing back down, and everyone else gasped, some of the more crass male students chuckling at her predicament. Ginny looked aghast, Dean looked uneasy, and Luna was frowning. Draco, however, was laughing so hard that he lost his focus on the enchantment, and the wind encircling Hermione ceased, causing her robe and skirt to drop back into place.
Immediately, she stalked over to Draco, her chest heaving and her brown eyes flashing with gold sparks of rage. She looked uncharacteristically livid.
Good, Draco thought to himself. Now Hermione was finally experiencing some of the anger he had carried inside of himself for the past two weeks. She was no longer passive, or feigning ignorance, or dismissing him as if he was nothing but a pesky little fly. He had finally managed to capture her attention.
Draco also noted that Hermione looked very sexy when she was angry. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to throttle her or snog her senseless, and even in his distracted state of mind, he found it rather odd that she could simultaneously ignite both of those desires in him.
Everyone in the class formed a circle around the pair, intently watching the confrontation.
"Back down," Hermione said through clenched teeth.
"You first, Granger," Draco said in a cool voice, surveying her with feigned indifference. "After all, running away from a situation is what you do best these days."
"You don't know what you're talking about," she hissed. "I've faced bigger and more powerful opponents than you, Draco Malfoy. If you insist on acting like a complete arse, you may get more than you bargained for."
Draco merely folded his arms across her chest and gave her his best Malfoy sneer.
"You won't do anything to me," he said in a challenging tone. "You don't have the nerve."
The next instant, Draco's eyes widened involuntarily as Hermione conjured the largest ball of fire he had yet seen her create. Everyone else in the class backed away in terror, but Draco stood his ground, his eyes narrowed and his irises glowing with silver light. Reaching deep within him, Draco summoned every ounce of power he possessed and conjured a large whirlwind in between him and Hermione. At the same moment, the two of them let loose their creations on each other.
Hermione's fireball and Draco's whirlwind collided in the space between them, forming a towering inferno. They pushed against each other with their magic, but they were equally matched in skill, neither able to overpower the other. Therefore, their powers only served to feed into the conflagration to make it grow slowly larger as the stone floor blistered and blackened beneath it.
Draco noticed that most of the class had evacuated the vicinity, although Ginny, Dean, and Luna remained nearby, pleading with them to stop, their words lost in the roar of the firestorm. But suddenly, a deep, powerful voice managed to cut through the din.
"ENOUGH!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Professor Hong approaching, having returned to the Great Hall after delivering the Hufflepuff student to the infirmary.
Instantly, Draco and Hermione both released their hold on their powers, but this proved to be a mistake. Without either of its creators keeping it in check, the whirling flames began to spin out of control. For a moment, Draco saw it flying in his direction faster than he could dodge it, and he closed his eyes, certain that in the next few seconds he was going to be completely incinerated.
Instead of being scalded to death, Draco experienced a sudden deluge of lukewarm water splashing down on top of his head. Shocked, he opened his eyes, swiped his sopping wet hair out of his face, and blinked several times to clear his vision.
Hermione was still standing roughly where she had been before, looking just as stunned and soaked as he was, with her curls dripping around her face in a bedraggled manner. The blaze he and Hermione had created was gone, presumably smothered by the sudden gush of water that had struck them both. Nothing but blackened tiles and a cloud of smoke remained where the fiery maelstrom had once been.
Draco finally noticed Luna Lovegood standing not far away, her eyes wide, and the irises slightly bluer than usual - a vivid shade of cerulean - before fading back to their usual cornflower color. As Draco glanced around him, he saw that several of the buckets of water the students had been practicing with were lying upturned and empty on the floor. That was when he realized that Luna had used her own skills to withdraw all the water from the buckets and direct it towards dousing the out-of-control flames before they struck Draco and Hermione.
The next thing Draco noticed was Professor Hong, coming to stand imperiously before them. Although the instructor's face remained as unyielding as usual, his eyes were flashing with fury. He was calm and contained, yet intimidating in a way that reminded Draco of the late Professor Dumbledore. His voice, when he spoke, was surprisingly soft.
"What the two of you just did could have resulted in you or your classmates being severely injured - or worse," he said. "I would have expected more common sense and self-control for students of your age and experience. I confess myself deeply disappointed in your thoughtless, childish display here today."
Indeed, Professor Hong's dark eyes were full of disappointment, and even Draco flinched somewhat beneath his gaze. Again, Draco was reminded strongly of Albus Dumbledore, whose disappointment in a student could elicit a pang of conscience more painful than any angry tirade ever could. Draco was glad, in this case, that he did not have much of a conscience to begin with. However, Hermione, who Draco had always thought possessed a bit too much of a conscience, was hanging her head and appeared close to tears.
"Twenty points shall be taken from each of your houses for your reckless behavior," Professor Hong continued. "And you will each write an essay - no less than three feet of parchment - on how to safely and intelligently use elemental magic, to be handed in to me by the end of the week. If you ever conduct yourselves in this manner in my classroom again, you will be asked to leave and not return. Do I make myself quite clear?"
Hermione and Draco both nodded and mumbled apologies, after which, Professor Hong turned to Luna.
"Ms. Lovegood," he said, "twenty points will be awarded to Ravenclaw for your quick thinking in diffusing a dangerous situation."
Luna nodded, but did not smile in response to the awarded house points. Her facial expression was much less distant and dreamy than usual, and her gaze was shifting rapidly back and forth between Draco and Hermione.
Professor Hong's almond-shaped eyes swept over his silent, shell-shocked students.
"Class is dismissed," he said, and everyone scrambled towards the door, whispering to each other and sneaking furtive glances in Draco and Hermione's direction.
Draco watched as Ginny put a comforting hand on Hermione's arm and started leading her out of the Great Hall. A few tears started to slip down Hermione's cheeks, and he suddenly began to feel guilty about having provoked her. During their brief friendship, they had certainly had their fair share of arguments, but none had ever escalated to the point where they actually used magic against each other.
Draco felt a strange and sudden need to apologize to Hermione, and to explain his actions. He made a few steps in her direction, calling out her name. Hearing him, she turned around, and her cinnamon colored eyes still carried a flicker of anger, despite the tears now welling up inside them.
"Just stay away from me, Malfoy," she said in a surprisingly level voice.
When she turned to leave, Draco made to follow, despite the warning look that Ginny was now flashing in his direction. He was only restrained by a gentle grip on his arm. Glancing over, he saw Luna Lovegood standing beside him, giving him an uncharacteristic, penetrating look.
"Let her go, Draco," she gently implored. "I think she's too upset to talk to you right now."
Unwillingly, Draco allowed himself to be held in place by the Ravenclaw, watching as Hermione and Ginny exited the Great Hall. Once they were gone, Luna released her grip on his arm, but she did not leave his side just yet.
"Why did you do that to Hermione?" she asked him. As her voice was void of any accusation, it appeared that her question was motivated purely by curiosity.
"I... she... well, she was ignoring me," Draco said sullenly. Then he scuffed his toe along the stone floor in discomfort, suddenly feeling like a petulant child.
Thankfully, Luna did not voice a like-minded opinion about his behavior. Instead, as she was sometimes known to do, she said something that demonstrated her startling honesty and insightfulness in these types of situations.
"I think Hermione cares about you very much, Draco, but I also think that her feelings for you are confusing and a bit scary for her, especially since she only broke up with Ron a few weeks ago. I think you need to give her a little more time."
Draco turned quickly to look at Luna, stunned by the girl's revelation, and the forthright way she had discussed his relationship with Hermione. He had had no clue that his feelings for the curly-haired Gryffindor were that obvious, and was frightened by the idea that they might become widely-known. To his relief, Luna quickly returned to her usual abstractedness.
"You know, you and Hermione remind me of a pair of Umgubular Slashkilters," she said.
When Draco raised his eyebrows at her, Luna went on to explain.
"Apparently Umgubular Slashkilters have a very interesting mating ritual. When a male approaches a female, the female viciously attacks him to determine whether or not he is worthy of being her mate. If he survives the encounter, then she accepts him. Otherwise... well, otherwise the male Slashkilter is killed and eaten by the female. But other than that, it's sort of romantic, isn't it?"
"Uh... riiiight," Draco drawled, thinking that there were a few other words for what Luna had just told him - odd, disturbing, and likely to be a complete figment of her father's dangerously overactive imagination. "Look, Lovegood, I've got to go change out of these wet clothes before my next class. I'll see you later, okay?"
With that he left the Great Hall and whisked through the corridors on his way down to the dungeons, still feeling cantankerous. He barked at any students who had the misfortune of straying into his path, and those who opened their mouths to question him on the state of his clothing were quickly silenced by his steely-eyed glare.
When he arrived in his dormitory and saw his scorched and sopping wet reflection in the full length mirror hanging on the wall, it did nothing to improve his mood. Glowering at the sight, he began stripping off all of his damp clothes, and as he did so, his thoughts returned to his altercation with Hermione. He was fuming with anger - but this time he was just as angry with himself as he was with her.
As Draco ripped off his wet tie and ruined school robes, he thought about Luna Lovegood's observations. Draco grudgingly understood the Ravenclaw's point; Hermione had only been dumped by Weasley a few weeks before, and he knew that there was supposed to be some sort of "mourning period" after a relationship ended before getting involved with someone else. He supposed that snogging a new guy on the same day you broke up with your boyfriend was generally frowned upon, at least by people with any sense of decency (Draco wouldn't really know, having rarely been afflicted with that particular malady in his lifetime). He also realized that he should follow Luna's advice and be patient with Hermione, but he was finding it impossible to do so, and that concerned him.
Draco sighed, tugging off his trousers and then removing his damp, white shirt. For all his faults, he could be incredibly patient when he needed to be. If he were acting rationally, he would simply lie in wait until the right circumstances came along before trying to claim Hermione's affections. Or he would orchestrate a subtle and intricate plan to lure her into his arms. This is how he had won many girls in the past.
But somehow, things were different with Hermione. If the truth be told, he had never allowed his thoughts to dwell this much on a girl before - not with Pansy, or any of the other conquests he had had over the years. He had never felt the same aching need for them, as he did for Hermione. It was a weakness, and as a Malfoy, he despised weakness.
The problem, he knew, was that it had been far too long since he had been properly shagged. That would explain his apparent inability to control himself around Hermione Granger. It had been difficult, after his trial by the Wizengamot last spring, to find a girl who was willing to shag a former Death Eater like him. Well, he had never really been a full-fledged Death Eater, but he was so ostracized by the Wizarding community that he might as well have been.
Lately, however, he seemed to be regaining some of his old appeal among the girls at Hogwarts, especially those residing in his own house. Over time, he had noticed more of those flirtatious smiles and longing female glances that he once been accustomed to receiving in the school halls. Though he had not taken advantage of them so far this term, he thought it would be foolish for him not to do so in the future. What he really needed was to get a good lay, and soon, before he did anything else stupid. As it was, Draco was afraid that after the blow-up in DADA class, his fragile friendship with Hermione had been replaced by their former enmity, and this bothered him more than he cared to admit.
Draco threw open the lid of his trunk and pulled out a fresh, dry uniform and set of school robes. He pulled on his pants, but had not yet begun to button up his shirt when he heard a soft knock on the dorm room door.
"Who is it?" he snapped, not exactly interested in company at the moment.
"Draco? It's Astoria."
Draco stomped over to the door and flung it open just wide enough to stick out his head and glare at the diminutive blonde standing outside.
"What do you want?"
"I - I came to see if you were alright," Astoria stammered, obviously startled by his anger. "Can I come in?"
With a resigned sigh, Draco held the door open for her and allowed her inside, before letting it slam shut behind her. She jumped at the loud sound, whipping around to face him. Her eyes widened when she saw the expanse of bare chest peeking out between the folds of his unbuttoned shirt, his skin scarcely darker than the white material.
"What happened between you and Hermione?" Astoria asked, finally tearing her eyes away from his chest and raising them back to his face. "The whole school's talking about the confrontation you two had in Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"We had a little disagreement," Draco said wryly, starting on buttoning his shirt from the bottom up.
"A ‘little disagreement'? Draco, they said you both nearly blew up the Great Hall."
"Yeah well, why would you care, anyway?" he growled, abandoning the act of closing his shirt.
"I care, Draco," she whispered. "I... I care because I care about you."
Astoria tentatively reached out with her small hand to touch the bare skin of his chest, running her fingers lightly across his pectorals. Draco could not help himself from sucking in his breath at the gentle contact. His eyes flashed up at the girl, looking at her as if he were seeing her for the first time.
"It's a mistake to care about me, Astoria," he said, his voice dark with warning. "I'm not exactly a nice person."
"I'm a Slytherin like you, Draco. ‘Nice' boys aren't exactly my cup of tea."
She smiled up at him, her dark brown eyes brimming with desire. Her intensity surprised Draco, considering that she was only sixteen years old. Then again, when he was sixteen, he hadn't exactly been a little cherub himself.
"Draco," Astoria continued. "Whatever's bothering you, whatever's making you upset...I can help you forget it, if you let me."
She leaned suggestively closer, one hand reaching up to brush his wet hair off of his forehead, while the other remained splayed on his chest. Draco stared at her in contemplation. Astoria really was a beautiful witch, and she had all of the qualities that he had been raised to look for in a woman - she was intelligent, well-mannered, and a Pureblood. Her family was wealthy and in good standing, and had remained so even after the war because they had never been involved with Voldemort. Draco's family was reasonably well-acquainted with her own; her older sister, Daphne, had been in Draco's year at school and was now dating Blaise Zabini, if he recalled correctly. He had lost contact with most of his old Slytherin friends after the war, so he couldn't be certain.
Yes, Astoria Greengrass was everything a wealthy, well-educated, Pureblood wizard like Draco could ever want. He had thought that he needed a good shag to get over Hermione, and here this girl stood, offering herself up like a lamb to the slaughter...
Without thinking any further on the matter, he pushed her up against the closed door and crushed her lips with his own. She gasped in surprise at the sudden and almost brutal manner in which he was kissing her, but her gasp quickly evolved into a soft moan of need. Draco kissed her harder and harder - to the point where he was sure that both their mouths would be bruised and swollen afterwards. In the back of his mind, he thought that the harder he kissed her, the quicker he could purge the memory of Hermione's kiss from his mind. His hands wrapped around Astoria's back, encountering a long braid of blond hair that was a few shades darker than his own. That was when he froze and pulled away.
There was something innocent and childlike about Astoria's braid, which made him feel lecherous for using her in this way, especially since the mingled anxiety, confusion and earnestness he saw in her eyes made him strongly suspect that she was a virgin. While the old Draco Malfoy had no compunction against deflowering virgins for dishonest purposes, the new Draco Malfoy was put off by the idea. Apparently, and to his immense irritation, he had developed a bit of a conscience after all.
Besides, he had a feeling that shagging Astoria Greengrass was not going to be enough to get his addiction to Hermione out of his system.
"You're just a naïve little girl," he muttered, pushing the pretty Slytherin away from him, albeit gently.
Looking angry and hurt, Astoria turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Once she was gone, Draco gave the door a frustrated kick.
He couldn't believe that he had been unable to allow himself to press his advantage with a willing and worthwhile bed partner. He knew it was all Hermione's fault. She might as well have put a Castration Charm on him! For all he knew, she probably had. She could be a sneaky little wench when she wanted to be. Maybe she had secretly hit him with some sort of curse that only allowed him to seek physical pleasure from her and no one else.
At this rate, Draco was never going to be able to have sex again. He thought it was really a crime against humanity - or the female portion of it at least.
Quickly, he finished dressing himself and tore out of the Slytherin dormitory, up the staircase, out of the dungeons, and through the front doors of Hogwarts. If he wasn't going to shag Astoria Greengrass, then he needed a different way to vent his frustration. He still had forty-five minutes until Potions class, and he would spend them doing the only other thing that could bring him some semblance of peace.
Minutes later, Draco was on his broomstick, blazing circles around the Quidditch pitch, the wind drying the remaining moisture from his hair. The faster he flew, the more he felt every muscle in his body relax. Soon he was flying so fast that the empty spectator stands were nothing but a colorful blur in his peripheral vision.
If anything, he thought sardonically, all this sexual tension will make me a menace in the next Quidditch match.
Slytherin had continued to do well this season, and were poised to clinch the championship in a few months if all went according to plan. It would be Slytherin's first time being Quidditch champions since before Draco had started at Hogwarts. Sadly, the thought was not giving him much joy at the moment.
Since he had neglected to bring any gloves with him before leaving the castle, his hands were freezing as they gripped his Nimbus2001. Nevertheless, he briefly closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of the cold air blowing against his face, ruffling his hair. He realized now why his element was Wind. Somehow, his mind was always so much clearer when he was fifty meters off of the ground, leaving all of his concerns far below him. Yet, he had a feeling that even if he flew high into the stratosphere, he wouldn't be able to leave behind the predicament that was Hermione Granger.
Suddenly, he was reminded of how Luna had compared them to a pair of Umgubular Slashkilters. That his and Hermione's relationship resembled the mating ritual of a violent and cannibalistic creature was not very reassuring (even if said creature was mythological). Draco wondered if, like a female Slashkilter, Hermione was testing him in some way to make sure that he was worthy of her. Would he pass the test in the end? Could she ever find him worthy enough of being with her? It irritated Draco that he was even asking himself these questions now, when in the past, he had always been more concerned about a girl being worthy of him. Still, he figured that he was better off than a male Slashkilter in at least one regard: Hermione wouldn't eat him alive if he failed to live up to her expectations.
Draco shook his head. He knew that he had to find a way to tell Hermione how he felt about her. But then again, what exactly did he feel for her? Friendship? Certainly. Lust? He smirked to himself. Well, obviously he felt that as well. But he had a feeling that lust and friendship would not be enough for a girl like Hermione. Eventually she would want something more, and Draco wasn't sure if he could give it to her. He wasn't even sure he knew how. Luna had said that she thought Hermione cared about him very much - how much, exactly? And in what way?
Suddenly, the chimes of the massive school clock drifted over to Draco on the crisp winter air, announcing that he had only fifteen minutes to get to his next class. With a sigh, he began lowering his broom back towards the ground, all the while trying to brainstorm a way to apologize to Hermione for his actions, make her realize that he wished to pursue a physical relationship with her, and avoid giving her high expectations for anything more permanent than friendship to ever develop between them.
On second thought, maybe those male Umgubular Slashkilters had it easy.
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