Maybe - One Shot
Title: Maybe
Author: little_dollface
Word Count: 2981
Rating: T
Summary: Captured and held hostage with no way to escape. Draco and Hermione must face death and each other. AU after HBP
Author's Notes: Written to accompany the artwork Undefined by avatofjelly for the hermionebigbang. Thanks to akashathekitty for her beta work on this and bunney for her sage advice ;)
“For Merlin’s sake, would you please just stop it!” Draco shouted. When Hermione choked back a sob he added, “Crying is not going to help, Granger. You know that.”
She did. No amount of tears would change things. Still, sometimes a girl just needed to cry. It bothered her that he never had, the whole time they’d been here. Trapped here for twenty-three days and never once had she witnessed him break down. Maybe he knew something she didn’t.
Wiping her tears away roughly, she spat, “What? Finally decide to talk to me again.” She had said something not so nice about his father and he had been punishing her with the silent treatment. Under normal circumstances, Malfoy having nothing to say would be a good thing, but with no one else to talk to, after two days of it, it was down right cruel.
“Don’t get excited. I’m still ignoring you. I just need for you to stop blubbering.” He plopped back down in the dirty overstuffed chair that made up one of two pieces of furniture in the room. The second was a simple wood frame bed with a thin mattress. They had fought over who would get the bed, of course. He’d finally agreed on taking the chair. She’d argued that they should take turns, but it seemed he insisted on disagreeing with her, no matter how logical and fair her idea was.
The chair had ended up being the better end of the bargain. She knew this because he’d allowed her to sleep there twice. It was much softer and more comfortable than the bed. For being so thin, the mattress sure contained the largest lumps. Not that either of them were in a position to be picky about furniture.
“Have you ever even considered the possibility that if we work together, we might come up with a way to get out?” He constantly fought against her notions about getting the hell out of here. He easily found the flaws in all her escape plans while never offering suggestions of his own.
Malfoy shrugged and gave her a look of disinterest. Argh! What a miserable git! If he wanted to be stubborn and difficult, let him. She could figure out a way out of here without him. He could rot in here for all she cared!
No, that wasn’t exactly true, she admitted to herself. She could never just leave someone here to die--not even Malfoy. But she wouldn’t mind him doing some rotting.
“Fine. But you’re being unreasonable. It makes sense for us to work together. What happened to Slytherin cunning? And use of any means?” He rolled his eyes at her. Throwing her hands in the air, she shouted, “I’m a means, Malfoy. Use me!”
They’d had this argument many times before. And apparently, for him it was no longer worth the trouble to fight back. He just laughed and shook his head. Surprisingly, she had to turn away to hide a smile. She couldn’t help herself. While she was still angry and frustrated, the sound of genuine laughter was pleasantly refreshing--even if he was laughing at her. Days on end in this dingy and dimly lit room were taking their toll on her spirits.
And he was probably right. At this point, she wasn’t even sure how she’d help if he agreed to devise an escape with her. She didn’t have much information that could be useful. She had been stunned with some sort of spell and hadn’t even seen her attackers. She assumed it had been Death Eaters. Malfoy’s presence served to confirm that. Why he would be a prisoner, she could even begin to fathom, though.
“Why is it you’re here, again?” she asked, causally moving to sit on the edge of the bed closest to the chair. The question had been burning in her mind for days. She’d tried to puzzle it together on her own but she had very little to go on.
“Nice try, Granger.”
He sat there, smirking as he twirled a chicken bone between his fingers. It reminder her of Ron and the way he used to idly play with his wand whenever he got bored. She choked back the burning lump in her throat.
“My father has fallen out of favor with the Dark Lord,” he stated, as if that explained everything.
“What does that mean?”
He hurled the small bone across the room. “What does it matter? It’s not as if you actually care, you just can’t bear the idea of not knowing something.”
She huffed indignantly. “That is not true!” She did care. Maybe her curiosity was greater than her compassion, but on some level she cared. “I care,” she added softly.
“Oh, my mistake. I hadn’t realized just how deep your feelings for me ran,” he spat back in a sarcastic tone. His eyes drifted from her face to her chest. Gah! He was truly insufferable.
This was going nowhere and fast. And she suddenly found having a conversation with him was simply not worth the effort. “Just forget it.”
She huffed and moved to the other end of the room. Pouting, she mumbled under her breath about arrogant gits, and how’d she’d be better of with old Voldie as a roommate.
Hermione watched as he walked to the far wall to retrieve the bone. He began tossing it in the air then catching it mid-descent. He glanced at her and slipped it into his pocket. Sighing, he said, “It’s pretty simple, Granger. My father was so preoccupied with reinstating his position he failed to realize my mother was no longer safe in her own home. I got her out but not without getting myself caught.”
For a brief moment she swore she caught a look of true fear and heartbreak in his eyes. Looking away, she focused on where the fraying edge of the chair’s fabric met Malfoy’s back as he leaned against the arm. She tried to imagine him doing something so self-sacrificing and downright dangerous. It seemed near impossible. He might be lying. He had no reason to tell her the truth.
“Why didn’t he just kill you?”
Turning to the wall, he took a deep breath before speaking, “Don’t worry. He will. He’s just waiting until my mother is found. He’s assured me that she’ll watch me die--her punishment for defying him.”
Her hand flew to cover her mouth, holding in a small gasp. She hoped he wasn’t as serious as he seemed. Voldemort keeping Malfoy alive for his own sick game of vengeance made her stomach turn. Pieces began to fall into place. From the beginning she’d wondered why she was still alive.
She now had reason to fear the worst.
A loud crack jolted her, interrupting her less than pleasant thoughts. She quickly glanced over to the source of the sound. A frail house-elf, trembling like a leaf in the wind, practically threw the silver tray from his tiny hands to the ground before disappearing with a loud pop.
“Food!” she cried, as she hurried to bring the tray to the bed. She watched Malfoy’s eyes light up as he sprung away from the chair. The elf had not come at all yesterday.
“Move over! I’m starved.” Grabbing a sausage, he shoved it into his mouth unceremoniously. She watched as he ate with abandon. Really, it had only been one day without food. He was being a bit dramatic. Picking up a second sausage, he hesitated before ripping it in half and shoving it towards her. Her stomach rumbled. She grabbed the offered food and her fingers lightly grazed his skin, turning the growl in her stomach into an odd but not unfamiliar flutter. Ignoring the feeling she chewed slowly, savoring each bite, and contemplated the severity of their situation.
“Do you think the elf will come again tomorrow?” she asked while watching the sun set slowly over the horizon. She’d always been grateful for the window. Although grimy and seemingly impervious to breaking, it offered a glimpse of the outside and a way to mark the passing of days.
“Probably. I doubt the goal is to starve us to death.”
The cavalier way he spoke about dying made her shiver. He had to be pretending. The Draco Malfoy she knew did not look mortality straight in the eye without flinching.
“You must be scared?” she asked cautiously.
He sneered at her probing question. “When it happens, I know that everything I live for will have been destroyed.” He shrugged. “It takes the edge off.” He was trying to be flippant about it, but she could sense some sadness in his voice. The sudden thought of losing all that she loved slammed into her chest so hard she had to think to breathe. She had to believe that Harry and Ron were still alive and working their way towards destroying Voldemort. That hope had never wavered until this moment. She murmured to herself, “I’d still want to live.”Looking up at him, she said more loudly, “You don’t mean that. Aren’t there still things you’d want to do?”
“Unlike you, Granger, I don’t need to finally get a proper snogging before I die.”
She blushed scarlet. That had not been what she was referring too. Although she might have considered it to be one of the things she’d thought of doing. But could he take nothing seriously!?
Watching her, he started to chuckle. “I can’t believe I’m right about that. Honestly, I thought you’d at least been dragged into a broom closet by that Bulgarian git.” Shaking his head he added, “So you really haven’t?” The question was painfully rhetorical. She hated that she was apparently so transparent to him. So, she’d never really gone out of her way to dispel the rumors that she and Viktor had kissed. In fact, she quite enjoyed not having the “never been kissed” label hovering over her, even if it were a lie.
“At least, I’m not a slag like some people.”
“Snogging doesn’t make you a slag,” he admonished.
“Hmph, I know that.” Her feelings and her ego were bruised. She wasn’t naïve, just inexperienced. “I get that you’ve shagged Pansy in every alcove of Hogwarts and twice each room of your house! No need to rub it in my face.”Huffing, she folded her arms across her chest.
“I didn’t even mention her! You brought it up. And I haven’t even shagged her once!”
She could tell the last part had slipped out unintentionally, and her eyes lit up with the newfound knowledge. A small smile graced her lips. It felt almost like victory.
“It wasn’t for lack of trying, Granger. Stop smiling and keep your mouth shut. It was my singular goal in fifth year.”
“Oh, I thought your goal that year was to follow Harry around, trying to get him into trouble?”
He grinned. “That was number two. Believe me when I tell you sixth year would have been my year if it weren’t for….” His voice trailed off.
She wasn’t all that eager to recall what had happen that year either. Needing a change of subject, she said hesitantly, “So it wouldn’t bother you? Never having done…that?”
Leaning in close to her ear, he crooned, “Why? You offering to ease my pain?”
She narrowed her eyes. As if she’d do that with him. And here of all places! Now was not the time for such things. Although, if it had been someone else maybe. She’d give someone like Harry just a kiss, possibly. It would be nice to be kissed. Other girls seemed to like it. She should have been more pragmatic about it. Mooning after a clueless Ron had gotten her nowhere but unsnogged and trapped with Malfoy. She couldn’t exactly blame Ron for the ‘captured’ part but she sort of did anyway.
Malfoy seemed to sense that she was not going to dignify his question with a response. “Don’t worry about me. Pansy did many other things that were quite satisfying.”
“I wasn’t asking to hear about your depraved sex life.”
“Depraved? Maybe you do need to hear about it, frigid bitch!” The chicken bone made its second trip across the room.
“How dare you!’
“Me? You’re the one flinging accusations and making statements about things you know nothing about.” He had his finger pointing in her face. “And you can just leave Pansy out of this.”
The way he defended Pansy took some of the fire out of her. She might hate the girl but Malfoy clearly didn’t. And as she didn’t actually know the nature of their relationship, she was wrong to call it depraved. She knew better.
“Sorry,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “You love her.”
“We’re close,” he sighed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t.” She sunk down onto the bed. Discussing Malfoy’s love life only reminded her of her own disastrous one. When it came down to it, she was jealous. She envied that he’d experienced those things and her opportunity to do the same was in real danger of being taken away. If only Ron had been less…like Ron. Tears threatened to fall again. She curled up on the bed and turned to face the wall.
She felt the bed creak. He was sitting at her feet now. She listened to him breathe as he sat there in silence. Moment later he exhaled loudly. “Listen. I won’t lie. The snogging, it’s nice…more than nice.” Hermione turned slightly so she could see him better. “But it’s not everything.”
Grabbing the pillow, she rolled her eyes and buried her head. It may not be ‘everything’ but even she knew that it was something. Malfoy was lying to her, apparently trying to make her feel less pathetic. Merlin! She didn’t even want to know just how pathetic she was for him to try and comfort her.
Suddenly loud bangs and voices could be heard in the adjoining room. Her heart was racing. The shouting and thumping of footsteps seemed to get louder. Whoever it was, they were approaching this room.
“Granger, stand up.” Panicking slightly, she did as he asked.
He stood in front of her, less than millimeters away.
She couldn’t read the look in his eyes but he was staring intently at her. Shying away briefly from his harsh stare, she asked, “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”
He shushed her. “Close your eyes.”
Looking at him like he had suddenly grown a second head, she asked, “Why?”
“Just close your eyes and don’t talk, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. Tell me what’s going on.”
Sighing, he muttered, “You have to make everything difficult, don’t you?” Holding up his hand, he stopped her from answering, “Just do as I ask, please. I swear on my mother’s life, I not going to hurt you.”
The mention of his mother caught her off guard but it did, somehow, make things seem safer. Giving into her curiosity, she let eyes drift shut.
Darkness and the soft sounds of Malfoy’s breathing enveloped her. She could feel each of her nerves tingling with anticipation. Time passed with painful slowness. She felt his fingertips brush away the tiny strands of hair surrounding her face. She wanted so badly to open her eyes, she could feel them fluttering against her will.
“Keep them closed,” he said in the softest whisper.
She barely felt it at first, the softness of his lips against hers. Then he pressed closer. She made no move to return the kiss but didn’t move away either. It felt good. With her eyes shielded in darkness, she could focus solely on the wonderful sensation of being kissed.
Her hands fidgeted at her side, unsure of how long this would last or if she should be the one to stop it. The voices were right outside the door now. They seemed to be arguing.
He moved closer, deepening the kiss. Snaking his hand around her neck, he held it possessively against the base of her skull. It was a mix of emotions, the panic from the voices and the swishing in her stomach as Malfoy’s lips moved deliberately yet slowly against her own.
Tentatively, she reached up to place her palms on his chest. The frantic beating of his heart belied the leisurely way he kissed her. Grabbing her hand, he pressed something cold and hard into her fist. Seconds later as the voices begun to quiet, he broke away from her mouth. “There’s only a small amount,” he whispered in her ear. “Use it carefully.” Shivering, she glanced down at the small vial in her hand. She knew exactly what it was and how to use it. He’d given her a way out. Maybe. The potion, if she remembered correctly, rendered you invisible but was very weak, lasting only a few minutes per drop.
The door came crashing in. It was a blur of black robes and masks.
“Take him!” commanded a voice.
“No!” she screamed. A Death Eater, not bothering with a spell, pushed her to the ground, told her to shut up and promised he’d be back for her soon. A quick second shove caused her head to smack into the bed frame.
“Draco!” she screamed. Dizzy and unable stand, she crawled on her knees, frantically grasping at the legs of the attackers. Her efforts were futile, but she couldn’t just let them take him.
Within seconds, the room was empty.
She sunk to the floor, cradling the vial he’d given her. Methodically, tracing the edge of the paper label, she watched the door, waiting for her turn and an opportunity to use the potion. She didn’t have much time. They’d be coming for her soon. But she was ready. She had a plan: get out, locate Malfoy before Voldemort got to him, then find Harry and end this.
Author: little_dollface
Word Count: 2981
Rating: T
Summary: Captured and held hostage with no way to escape. Draco and Hermione must face death and each other. AU after HBP
Author's Notes: Written to accompany the artwork Undefined by avatofjelly for the hermionebigbang. Thanks to akashathekitty for her beta work on this and bunney for her sage advice ;)
“For Merlin’s sake, would you please just stop it!” Draco shouted. When Hermione choked back a sob he added, “Crying is not going to help, Granger. You know that.”
She did. No amount of tears would change things. Still, sometimes a girl just needed to cry. It bothered her that he never had, the whole time they’d been here. Trapped here for twenty-three days and never once had she witnessed him break down. Maybe he knew something she didn’t.
Wiping her tears away roughly, she spat, “What? Finally decide to talk to me again.” She had said something not so nice about his father and he had been punishing her with the silent treatment. Under normal circumstances, Malfoy having nothing to say would be a good thing, but with no one else to talk to, after two days of it, it was down right cruel.
“Don’t get excited. I’m still ignoring you. I just need for you to stop blubbering.” He plopped back down in the dirty overstuffed chair that made up one of two pieces of furniture in the room. The second was a simple wood frame bed with a thin mattress. They had fought over who would get the bed, of course. He’d finally agreed on taking the chair. She’d argued that they should take turns, but it seemed he insisted on disagreeing with her, no matter how logical and fair her idea was.
The chair had ended up being the better end of the bargain. She knew this because he’d allowed her to sleep there twice. It was much softer and more comfortable than the bed. For being so thin, the mattress sure contained the largest lumps. Not that either of them were in a position to be picky about furniture.
“Have you ever even considered the possibility that if we work together, we might come up with a way to get out?” He constantly fought against her notions about getting the hell out of here. He easily found the flaws in all her escape plans while never offering suggestions of his own.
Malfoy shrugged and gave her a look of disinterest. Argh! What a miserable git! If he wanted to be stubborn and difficult, let him. She could figure out a way out of here without him. He could rot in here for all she cared!
No, that wasn’t exactly true, she admitted to herself. She could never just leave someone here to die--not even Malfoy. But she wouldn’t mind him doing some rotting.
“Fine. But you’re being unreasonable. It makes sense for us to work together. What happened to Slytherin cunning? And use of any means?” He rolled his eyes at her. Throwing her hands in the air, she shouted, “I’m a means, Malfoy. Use me!”
They’d had this argument many times before. And apparently, for him it was no longer worth the trouble to fight back. He just laughed and shook his head. Surprisingly, she had to turn away to hide a smile. She couldn’t help herself. While she was still angry and frustrated, the sound of genuine laughter was pleasantly refreshing--even if he was laughing at her. Days on end in this dingy and dimly lit room were taking their toll on her spirits.
And he was probably right. At this point, she wasn’t even sure how she’d help if he agreed to devise an escape with her. She didn’t have much information that could be useful. She had been stunned with some sort of spell and hadn’t even seen her attackers. She assumed it had been Death Eaters. Malfoy’s presence served to confirm that. Why he would be a prisoner, she could even begin to fathom, though.
“Why is it you’re here, again?” she asked, causally moving to sit on the edge of the bed closest to the chair. The question had been burning in her mind for days. She’d tried to puzzle it together on her own but she had very little to go on.
“Nice try, Granger.”
He sat there, smirking as he twirled a chicken bone between his fingers. It reminder her of Ron and the way he used to idly play with his wand whenever he got bored. She choked back the burning lump in her throat.
“My father has fallen out of favor with the Dark Lord,” he stated, as if that explained everything.
“What does that mean?”
He hurled the small bone across the room. “What does it matter? It’s not as if you actually care, you just can’t bear the idea of not knowing something.”
She huffed indignantly. “That is not true!” She did care. Maybe her curiosity was greater than her compassion, but on some level she cared. “I care,” she added softly.
“Oh, my mistake. I hadn’t realized just how deep your feelings for me ran,” he spat back in a sarcastic tone. His eyes drifted from her face to her chest. Gah! He was truly insufferable.
This was going nowhere and fast. And she suddenly found having a conversation with him was simply not worth the effort. “Just forget it.”
She huffed and moved to the other end of the room. Pouting, she mumbled under her breath about arrogant gits, and how’d she’d be better of with old Voldie as a roommate.
Hermione watched as he walked to the far wall to retrieve the bone. He began tossing it in the air then catching it mid-descent. He glanced at her and slipped it into his pocket. Sighing, he said, “It’s pretty simple, Granger. My father was so preoccupied with reinstating his position he failed to realize my mother was no longer safe in her own home. I got her out but not without getting myself caught.”
For a brief moment she swore she caught a look of true fear and heartbreak in his eyes. Looking away, she focused on where the fraying edge of the chair’s fabric met Malfoy’s back as he leaned against the arm. She tried to imagine him doing something so self-sacrificing and downright dangerous. It seemed near impossible. He might be lying. He had no reason to tell her the truth.
“Why didn’t he just kill you?”
Turning to the wall, he took a deep breath before speaking, “Don’t worry. He will. He’s just waiting until my mother is found. He’s assured me that she’ll watch me die--her punishment for defying him.”
Her hand flew to cover her mouth, holding in a small gasp. She hoped he wasn’t as serious as he seemed. Voldemort keeping Malfoy alive for his own sick game of vengeance made her stomach turn. Pieces began to fall into place. From the beginning she’d wondered why she was still alive.
She now had reason to fear the worst.
A loud crack jolted her, interrupting her less than pleasant thoughts. She quickly glanced over to the source of the sound. A frail house-elf, trembling like a leaf in the wind, practically threw the silver tray from his tiny hands to the ground before disappearing with a loud pop.
“Food!” she cried, as she hurried to bring the tray to the bed. She watched Malfoy’s eyes light up as he sprung away from the chair. The elf had not come at all yesterday.
“Move over! I’m starved.” Grabbing a sausage, he shoved it into his mouth unceremoniously. She watched as he ate with abandon. Really, it had only been one day without food. He was being a bit dramatic. Picking up a second sausage, he hesitated before ripping it in half and shoving it towards her. Her stomach rumbled. She grabbed the offered food and her fingers lightly grazed his skin, turning the growl in her stomach into an odd but not unfamiliar flutter. Ignoring the feeling she chewed slowly, savoring each bite, and contemplated the severity of their situation.
“Do you think the elf will come again tomorrow?” she asked while watching the sun set slowly over the horizon. She’d always been grateful for the window. Although grimy and seemingly impervious to breaking, it offered a glimpse of the outside and a way to mark the passing of days.
“Probably. I doubt the goal is to starve us to death.”
The cavalier way he spoke about dying made her shiver. He had to be pretending. The Draco Malfoy she knew did not look mortality straight in the eye without flinching.
“You must be scared?” she asked cautiously.
He sneered at her probing question. “When it happens, I know that everything I live for will have been destroyed.” He shrugged. “It takes the edge off.” He was trying to be flippant about it, but she could sense some sadness in his voice. The sudden thought of losing all that she loved slammed into her chest so hard she had to think to breathe. She had to believe that Harry and Ron were still alive and working their way towards destroying Voldemort. That hope had never wavered until this moment. She murmured to herself, “I’d still want to live.”Looking up at him, she said more loudly, “You don’t mean that. Aren’t there still things you’d want to do?”
“Unlike you, Granger, I don’t need to finally get a proper snogging before I die.”
She blushed scarlet. That had not been what she was referring too. Although she might have considered it to be one of the things she’d thought of doing. But could he take nothing seriously!?
Watching her, he started to chuckle. “I can’t believe I’m right about that. Honestly, I thought you’d at least been dragged into a broom closet by that Bulgarian git.” Shaking his head he added, “So you really haven’t?” The question was painfully rhetorical. She hated that she was apparently so transparent to him. So, she’d never really gone out of her way to dispel the rumors that she and Viktor had kissed. In fact, she quite enjoyed not having the “never been kissed” label hovering over her, even if it were a lie.
“At least, I’m not a slag like some people.”
“Snogging doesn’t make you a slag,” he admonished.
“Hmph, I know that.” Her feelings and her ego were bruised. She wasn’t naïve, just inexperienced. “I get that you’ve shagged Pansy in every alcove of Hogwarts and twice each room of your house! No need to rub it in my face.”Huffing, she folded her arms across her chest.
“I didn’t even mention her! You brought it up. And I haven’t even shagged her once!”
She could tell the last part had slipped out unintentionally, and her eyes lit up with the newfound knowledge. A small smile graced her lips. It felt almost like victory.
“It wasn’t for lack of trying, Granger. Stop smiling and keep your mouth shut. It was my singular goal in fifth year.”
“Oh, I thought your goal that year was to follow Harry around, trying to get him into trouble?”
He grinned. “That was number two. Believe me when I tell you sixth year would have been my year if it weren’t for….” His voice trailed off.
She wasn’t all that eager to recall what had happen that year either. Needing a change of subject, she said hesitantly, “So it wouldn’t bother you? Never having done…that?”
Leaning in close to her ear, he crooned, “Why? You offering to ease my pain?”
She narrowed her eyes. As if she’d do that with him. And here of all places! Now was not the time for such things. Although, if it had been someone else maybe. She’d give someone like Harry just a kiss, possibly. It would be nice to be kissed. Other girls seemed to like it. She should have been more pragmatic about it. Mooning after a clueless Ron had gotten her nowhere but unsnogged and trapped with Malfoy. She couldn’t exactly blame Ron for the ‘captured’ part but she sort of did anyway.
Malfoy seemed to sense that she was not going to dignify his question with a response. “Don’t worry about me. Pansy did many other things that were quite satisfying.”
“I wasn’t asking to hear about your depraved sex life.”
“Depraved? Maybe you do need to hear about it, frigid bitch!” The chicken bone made its second trip across the room.
“How dare you!’
“Me? You’re the one flinging accusations and making statements about things you know nothing about.” He had his finger pointing in her face. “And you can just leave Pansy out of this.”
The way he defended Pansy took some of the fire out of her. She might hate the girl but Malfoy clearly didn’t. And as she didn’t actually know the nature of their relationship, she was wrong to call it depraved. She knew better.
“Sorry,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “You love her.”
“We’re close,” he sighed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t.” She sunk down onto the bed. Discussing Malfoy’s love life only reminded her of her own disastrous one. When it came down to it, she was jealous. She envied that he’d experienced those things and her opportunity to do the same was in real danger of being taken away. If only Ron had been less…like Ron. Tears threatened to fall again. She curled up on the bed and turned to face the wall.
She felt the bed creak. He was sitting at her feet now. She listened to him breathe as he sat there in silence. Moment later he exhaled loudly. “Listen. I won’t lie. The snogging, it’s nice…more than nice.” Hermione turned slightly so she could see him better. “But it’s not everything.”
Grabbing the pillow, she rolled her eyes and buried her head. It may not be ‘everything’ but even she knew that it was something. Malfoy was lying to her, apparently trying to make her feel less pathetic. Merlin! She didn’t even want to know just how pathetic she was for him to try and comfort her.
Suddenly loud bangs and voices could be heard in the adjoining room. Her heart was racing. The shouting and thumping of footsteps seemed to get louder. Whoever it was, they were approaching this room.
“Granger, stand up.” Panicking slightly, she did as he asked.
He stood in front of her, less than millimeters away.
She couldn’t read the look in his eyes but he was staring intently at her. Shying away briefly from his harsh stare, she asked, “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”
He shushed her. “Close your eyes.”
Looking at him like he had suddenly grown a second head, she asked, “Why?”
“Just close your eyes and don’t talk, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. Tell me what’s going on.”
Sighing, he muttered, “You have to make everything difficult, don’t you?” Holding up his hand, he stopped her from answering, “Just do as I ask, please. I swear on my mother’s life, I not going to hurt you.”
The mention of his mother caught her off guard but it did, somehow, make things seem safer. Giving into her curiosity, she let eyes drift shut.
Darkness and the soft sounds of Malfoy’s breathing enveloped her. She could feel each of her nerves tingling with anticipation. Time passed with painful slowness. She felt his fingertips brush away the tiny strands of hair surrounding her face. She wanted so badly to open her eyes, she could feel them fluttering against her will.
“Keep them closed,” he said in the softest whisper.
She barely felt it at first, the softness of his lips against hers. Then he pressed closer. She made no move to return the kiss but didn’t move away either. It felt good. With her eyes shielded in darkness, she could focus solely on the wonderful sensation of being kissed.
Her hands fidgeted at her side, unsure of how long this would last or if she should be the one to stop it. The voices were right outside the door now. They seemed to be arguing.
He moved closer, deepening the kiss. Snaking his hand around her neck, he held it possessively against the base of her skull. It was a mix of emotions, the panic from the voices and the swishing in her stomach as Malfoy’s lips moved deliberately yet slowly against her own.
Tentatively, she reached up to place her palms on his chest. The frantic beating of his heart belied the leisurely way he kissed her. Grabbing her hand, he pressed something cold and hard into her fist. Seconds later as the voices begun to quiet, he broke away from her mouth. “There’s only a small amount,” he whispered in her ear. “Use it carefully.” Shivering, she glanced down at the small vial in her hand. She knew exactly what it was and how to use it. He’d given her a way out. Maybe. The potion, if she remembered correctly, rendered you invisible but was very weak, lasting only a few minutes per drop.
The door came crashing in. It was a blur of black robes and masks.
“Take him!” commanded a voice.
“No!” she screamed. A Death Eater, not bothering with a spell, pushed her to the ground, told her to shut up and promised he’d be back for her soon. A quick second shove caused her head to smack into the bed frame.
“Draco!” she screamed. Dizzy and unable stand, she crawled on her knees, frantically grasping at the legs of the attackers. Her efforts were futile, but she couldn’t just let them take him.
Within seconds, the room was empty.
She sunk to the floor, cradling the vial he’d given her. Methodically, tracing the edge of the paper label, she watched the door, waiting for her turn and an opportunity to use the potion. She didn’t have much time. They’d be coming for her soon. But she was ready. She had a plan: get out, locate Malfoy before Voldemort got to him, then find Harry and end this.