The Unexpected (Part Eight)
Other Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.
Part Eight
She woke up to sunlight pouring through a window, her eyes squinting shut. Why does the sun have to be so bloody bright?, she thought to herself as she buried her head in the... pillow? Her head came up from the depths of the blankets immediately, her eyes blinking rapidly.Where am I? Looking around the room she was in, she coughed. How the hell had she gotten here? It didn't make sense. Hadn't she fallen asleep outside? Hadn't she accidentally fallen asleep in the arms of the enemy? But he was just so comfortable at the time. He was there. He had been there to comfort her, to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her into his warmth. It had been wrong, but it had been the last straw of their hatred, the first day of their truce. An unspoken one, she hoped. Or maybe it would be like before, where he was an ass, but helped her out. She would take it any way, because she wanted her parents back. And she'd do anything to get them.
She got up from the bed, putting her hair up in a rapid pony tail and wrapping the blanket that had been on the bed around her form, before walking out of the room and into the common room. What to do? She tiptoed over to the window sill, looking out the window down at the lake.Where was Malfoy? Where had he gone to? And how had he gotten me into this room? Assuming that Draco had brought her up here, she pondered the fact that he had been able to get inside, without her assistance. Oh shit. He could have done anything to her, done anything to harm her. But she wasn't aching, didn't have ripped clothing-she highly doubted that Draco Malfoy wanted her for that-didn't sport any bruises. So she was all right, she was perfectly fine. Emotionally she was a wreck. A block of cheese that was once happy, once content, slammed through a grater. Something that was irrevocably done. She couldn't go back, she wouldn't be able to forget even if she got her parents back. She'd be forever dented.
She heard a rustling of clothes behind her and her head flew back, looking to the middle of the room; the grate. The fire was burning in a fluid motion, the embers seething at her. A throw pillow had fallen below the couch, she could see from the other side. Before going back, she walked over to the other side of the couch, automatically seeing a sleeping Draco, his shirt off and thrown on the floor, the blanket she had previously brought outside, lying conveniently on him. She gasped sharply, stepping back. No. Why was he sleeping here? “Shite,” she grumbled under her breath.
She didn't feel right. Why was he here? She wasn't ready for this, wasn't ready for the confrontation he surely wanted to have about last night. She didn't want to explain to him that she was scarred, that he had an impact on her she didn't want to think about, that she wanted her parents, and that she was going to use him to get there. She came to the conclusion that they both had ulterior motives on using the other. Hers was to get her parents back. His-well, she had yet to find out, but it was there, for why would Draco Malfoy want Hermione Granger's parents back?
“You'd make a horrible one night stand.” Fuck, she thought, looking back to the couch. She had been racing through her mind on what she'd do, while looking at the fire, when he had, obviously, woken up and surveyed the scene. “We didn't even do anything remotely sexual and you're already shaking.” He frowned, looking her up and down, then quickly quirking an eyebrow because she hadn't reiterated. “Are you all right?”
He had changed position, and was now laying/sitting on the couch, his head propped up on the back, looking at her lazily.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, after what he said went through her mind.
“It means, Granger, that you'd make a horrible one night stand. The biggest turn off for a man, is that you're scared of him in the morning, and what you've done with him.”
“What if the girl is afraid that the guy regretted it?”
“Awe Granger, I didn't know you regretted getting comforted by me.” He feigned being hurt by putting a hand over his heart, the sides of his mouth rising slightly, and then the humor was gone from his face. “A guy never regrets sleeping with a woman he had wanted the night before. Because he always knows there is a reason why he wanted her.”
She creased her eyebrows, pulling the blanket around her tighter. “You should write a handbook.” she muttered, looking away.
“Who's to say I haven't?”
She looked back to him. “Really?”
“Of course not.” He shook his head, his hand running through his hair. “Lets talk about more important things.”
“Yes. Lets.” She nodded. “How did you get in?”
“Well... I walked through the doorway.”
“Don't give me this bullshit, Malfoy. I'm too tired for it.”
“Then sit down, Granger, instead of snapping at me.” he said immediately, not missing a beat. They could just keep going, and going. And never stop.
She sat down in the armchair, resting her head against the back, while closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. He let her calm down, then he quietly answered her question. “I'm not daft, alright? I've gotten into many places in this castle. Naturally I would know how to open up a portrait entrance as simple as this one.”
She opened her eyes, looking to him. “I'll notify Professor Dumbledore to change the way to get in.”
“On my behalf? No. Surely you'd feel safe with me knowing how to get into your quarters.”
“Absolutely not. I'd feel safer with four Head Boys all from Slytherin.”
“Don't try to fool me on the fact that you're scared shitless that Blaise is the Head Boy. Because you are.”
“I'm afraid that I'll kill him if he comes too close to me, and I'll get in trouble. I'm not afraid of him.” she said, rolling her eyes.
“So well spoken, but so far from the truth. Again, as stated, I'm not daft, I see right through people. You are especially too easy.” And she looked over to him, locking her gaze with his. His eyes were a shockingly translucent blue, a deep spiral of colors you could get lost in.
“Am I?” she whispered.
He blinked, looking at her weirdly. Almost like he didn't see what he thought he had.
“Look,” he replied, getting up from his seat, his chest and arm muscles flexing. “We have some things to go over. About this thing we want to do. Maybe we could draw up a contract. But for right now, I'm starving, and I bet you are to. So I'll go down the kitchens and fetch us something to eat.”
He put the shirt on that he picked up from the ground, and before she could reply to him that she actually wasn't hungry, and that she didn't want to wait for food because she desperately needed to know what was going on, he was gone, the portrait closing behind him. And she sighed heavily, falling back onto the couch with a renewed thought that she wanted more sleep. What time is it?
She felt like she had gotten drunk last night, and had done something completely irregular. Something that she was now regretting, and all her memories were muddled. Like she didn't know why she did this, and that. And she really didn't. But it had happened. She needed Draco's help to get her parents back. And she had to come to terms with the fact that they were going to be spending the next couple of days working very closely with him. So she promised herself she wouldn't provoke him when if it would cross the line of sanity. She couldn't have him turning on her, taking her in because he knew most of what was going on. She couldn't be taken to Voldemort, ever.
She looked to the place where he had left, noticing he had forgotten his belt. Hermione could definitely see why half of the girls at Hogwart's fell at his feet. He was charming in a way that wasn't toward you, but every organism out there. And you thrived off of him paying attention to you, so you do what you can to get him. But it never works. Because he's too good for that, too smart. And Hermione was scared. Because even though she knew this, even though she knew it'd be bad for her to ever be sexually attractive to Draco Malfoy, for the consequences would be great, she couldn't stop herself from seeing him that way. But she hated him. Oh yes, she did. And that would never change.
OOO
“Granger, wake up.” She could hear Draco whisper in her ear. “It's time to get up. See, I brought you food.” She opened her eyes, and he was standing over her, looking down. “Good.” he sat down where he had fallen asleep and she followed him with her eyes. “I had no clue what you preferred, so I got everything I could think of.”
She stared longingly at the food, for she hadn't known she was this hungry until now. She looked back to Draco. He had produced a book from a bag that didn't look familiar and was now reading it's contents. “I thought you said you were hungry.”
“I ate when I was down there. Less to carry.”
She nodded and looked to the food, quickly eating up what she deemed edible. It tasted amazing and before long, she was full from her hearty breakfast. And as she wiped the side of her mouth, she heard Draco close the book and she looked up. “Time to discuss what we need to?”
“That would be preferable.”
“Well-make yourself comfortable. This is going to be a long talk.” She leaned back in the arm chair, the blanket curled around her, her gaze looking toward him. “What do you want to know?”
She closed her eyes and thought. Where did she want him to start? What did she want to know mostly? Ah yes.
TBC.
Part Eight
She woke up to sunlight pouring through a window, her eyes squinting shut. Why does the sun have to be so bloody bright?, she thought to herself as she buried her head in the... pillow? Her head came up from the depths of the blankets immediately, her eyes blinking rapidly.Where am I? Looking around the room she was in, she coughed. How the hell had she gotten here? It didn't make sense. Hadn't she fallen asleep outside? Hadn't she accidentally fallen asleep in the arms of the enemy? But he was just so comfortable at the time. He was there. He had been there to comfort her, to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her into his warmth. It had been wrong, but it had been the last straw of their hatred, the first day of their truce. An unspoken one, she hoped. Or maybe it would be like before, where he was an ass, but helped her out. She would take it any way, because she wanted her parents back. And she'd do anything to get them.
She got up from the bed, putting her hair up in a rapid pony tail and wrapping the blanket that had been on the bed around her form, before walking out of the room and into the common room. What to do? She tiptoed over to the window sill, looking out the window down at the lake.Where was Malfoy? Where had he gone to? And how had he gotten me into this room? Assuming that Draco had brought her up here, she pondered the fact that he had been able to get inside, without her assistance. Oh shit. He could have done anything to her, done anything to harm her. But she wasn't aching, didn't have ripped clothing-she highly doubted that Draco Malfoy wanted her for that-didn't sport any bruises. So she was all right, she was perfectly fine. Emotionally she was a wreck. A block of cheese that was once happy, once content, slammed through a grater. Something that was irrevocably done. She couldn't go back, she wouldn't be able to forget even if she got her parents back. She'd be forever dented.
She heard a rustling of clothes behind her and her head flew back, looking to the middle of the room; the grate. The fire was burning in a fluid motion, the embers seething at her. A throw pillow had fallen below the couch, she could see from the other side. Before going back, she walked over to the other side of the couch, automatically seeing a sleeping Draco, his shirt off and thrown on the floor, the blanket she had previously brought outside, lying conveniently on him. She gasped sharply, stepping back. No. Why was he sleeping here? “Shite,” she grumbled under her breath.
She didn't feel right. Why was he here? She wasn't ready for this, wasn't ready for the confrontation he surely wanted to have about last night. She didn't want to explain to him that she was scarred, that he had an impact on her she didn't want to think about, that she wanted her parents, and that she was going to use him to get there. She came to the conclusion that they both had ulterior motives on using the other. Hers was to get her parents back. His-well, she had yet to find out, but it was there, for why would Draco Malfoy want Hermione Granger's parents back?
“You'd make a horrible one night stand.” Fuck, she thought, looking back to the couch. She had been racing through her mind on what she'd do, while looking at the fire, when he had, obviously, woken up and surveyed the scene. “We didn't even do anything remotely sexual and you're already shaking.” He frowned, looking her up and down, then quickly quirking an eyebrow because she hadn't reiterated. “Are you all right?”
He had changed position, and was now laying/sitting on the couch, his head propped up on the back, looking at her lazily.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, after what he said went through her mind.
“It means, Granger, that you'd make a horrible one night stand. The biggest turn off for a man, is that you're scared of him in the morning, and what you've done with him.”
“What if the girl is afraid that the guy regretted it?”
“Awe Granger, I didn't know you regretted getting comforted by me.” He feigned being hurt by putting a hand over his heart, the sides of his mouth rising slightly, and then the humor was gone from his face. “A guy never regrets sleeping with a woman he had wanted the night before. Because he always knows there is a reason why he wanted her.”
She creased her eyebrows, pulling the blanket around her tighter. “You should write a handbook.” she muttered, looking away.
“Who's to say I haven't?”
She looked back to him. “Really?”
“Of course not.” He shook his head, his hand running through his hair. “Lets talk about more important things.”
“Yes. Lets.” She nodded. “How did you get in?”
“Well... I walked through the doorway.”
“Don't give me this bullshit, Malfoy. I'm too tired for it.”
“Then sit down, Granger, instead of snapping at me.” he said immediately, not missing a beat. They could just keep going, and going. And never stop.
She sat down in the armchair, resting her head against the back, while closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. He let her calm down, then he quietly answered her question. “I'm not daft, alright? I've gotten into many places in this castle. Naturally I would know how to open up a portrait entrance as simple as this one.”
She opened her eyes, looking to him. “I'll notify Professor Dumbledore to change the way to get in.”
“On my behalf? No. Surely you'd feel safe with me knowing how to get into your quarters.”
“Absolutely not. I'd feel safer with four Head Boys all from Slytherin.”
“Don't try to fool me on the fact that you're scared shitless that Blaise is the Head Boy. Because you are.”
“I'm afraid that I'll kill him if he comes too close to me, and I'll get in trouble. I'm not afraid of him.” she said, rolling her eyes.
“So well spoken, but so far from the truth. Again, as stated, I'm not daft, I see right through people. You are especially too easy.” And she looked over to him, locking her gaze with his. His eyes were a shockingly translucent blue, a deep spiral of colors you could get lost in.
“Am I?” she whispered.
He blinked, looking at her weirdly. Almost like he didn't see what he thought he had.
“Look,” he replied, getting up from his seat, his chest and arm muscles flexing. “We have some things to go over. About this thing we want to do. Maybe we could draw up a contract. But for right now, I'm starving, and I bet you are to. So I'll go down the kitchens and fetch us something to eat.”
He put the shirt on that he picked up from the ground, and before she could reply to him that she actually wasn't hungry, and that she didn't want to wait for food because she desperately needed to know what was going on, he was gone, the portrait closing behind him. And she sighed heavily, falling back onto the couch with a renewed thought that she wanted more sleep. What time is it?
She felt like she had gotten drunk last night, and had done something completely irregular. Something that she was now regretting, and all her memories were muddled. Like she didn't know why she did this, and that. And she really didn't. But it had happened. She needed Draco's help to get her parents back. And she had to come to terms with the fact that they were going to be spending the next couple of days working very closely with him. So she promised herself she wouldn't provoke him when if it would cross the line of sanity. She couldn't have him turning on her, taking her in because he knew most of what was going on. She couldn't be taken to Voldemort, ever.
She looked to the place where he had left, noticing he had forgotten his belt. Hermione could definitely see why half of the girls at Hogwart's fell at his feet. He was charming in a way that wasn't toward you, but every organism out there. And you thrived off of him paying attention to you, so you do what you can to get him. But it never works. Because he's too good for that, too smart. And Hermione was scared. Because even though she knew this, even though she knew it'd be bad for her to ever be sexually attractive to Draco Malfoy, for the consequences would be great, she couldn't stop herself from seeing him that way. But she hated him. Oh yes, she did. And that would never change.
OOO
“Granger, wake up.” She could hear Draco whisper in her ear. “It's time to get up. See, I brought you food.” She opened her eyes, and he was standing over her, looking down. “Good.” he sat down where he had fallen asleep and she followed him with her eyes. “I had no clue what you preferred, so I got everything I could think of.”
She stared longingly at the food, for she hadn't known she was this hungry until now. She looked back to Draco. He had produced a book from a bag that didn't look familiar and was now reading it's contents. “I thought you said you were hungry.”
“I ate when I was down there. Less to carry.”
She nodded and looked to the food, quickly eating up what she deemed edible. It tasted amazing and before long, she was full from her hearty breakfast. And as she wiped the side of her mouth, she heard Draco close the book and she looked up. “Time to discuss what we need to?”
“That would be preferable.”
“Well-make yourself comfortable. This is going to be a long talk.” She leaned back in the arm chair, the blanket curled around her, her gaze looking toward him. “What do you want to know?”
She closed her eyes and thought. Where did she want him to start? What did she want to know mostly? Ah yes.
TBC.