When she turned to face him, stomach churning with anticipation, she was startled at how close he had come. For the first time in hours, she allowed her glassy eyes to fully explore his face, reading it how she once did.
He was raging inside, as a personal war of wills fought yet another battle within the strained capsule of his heart.
Hermione could see it; she could see it like someone sees the comings of rain in the distant clouds, so clearly yet mysteriously. She could feel it radiating from his oh so lightly trembling body, like his very soul was a torrent of earthquakes.
Inside, Malfoy’s blood was tingling with fear. If one could imagine the horror of being forced to keep your own being locked inside the confines of a shattered, abused mind by your own father, then suddenly, abruptly set free to travel down every emotional pathway- only to find those emotions tormented, broken, and confounded- then one could possibly begin to comprehend the dominant pain that had become Draco Malfoy’s essence.
The confusion was overwhelming. The emotional turmoil of coming to grips with the reality of love and war was simple and unproblematic compared to the terror of learning you’d once again have to suppress your feelings because father dearest had returned.
Or, really, had never left.
And yet, Malfoy knew this was only the tip of the iceberg. What of Hermione? This whole ordeal affected her most, affected his ability and simultaneous inability to be truthful with even himself.
He gazed into her trouble-lit eyes and felt an immediate need to collapse. The longer he looked at her the weaker he felt… it was as if he’d been physically pushed to the brink of exhaustion.
He’d seen too much. He’d experienced too much hate, too much pessimism, and far too much evil. Pushed- shoved- knocked down- scraped- bruised- hurt- scarred: for life. His family: degrading, like a parasite that eats at your character from the inside out. His father: the ringleader. Crashing to reality harder than a fallen sky: inconceivably detrimental to one’s inner core.
His breathing quickened. His heart was pumping madly now, small beads of sweat lined his ivory face, and gave a soft glisten in the dim light of the room.
He’d been deceived his whole life; tortured, torn, used, abandoned, abused, discarded at will. And none of it- none of it- mattered now.
The ache of flashing memories and sorrow-filled remembrances coiled into a heap, utterly cowering under this new challenge; this new, fascinatingly beautiful, potentially destructive possibility: hope.
And who was hope? How had hope come? Why had it hidden from him for seventeen years, locked away like a gift far too precious and valuable for his tainted hands? Was it because he had been undeserving? While Malfoy’s heart beat a tattoo into his chest, he knew deep down the answer lied right in front of him: Hermione.
She was Hope. She was the embodiment of everything he never knew he’d wanted- needed.
She was the transcending light at the end of a very long, dark, and brutal tunnel of despair. She was honestly that he’d never before received, she was beauty that he’d never before witnessed, she was compassion that he’d never before knew existed, and she was the Hope that he’d long since lost given up.
If his heart was pumping before, it was racing furiously now. His mind couldn’t keep up with it.
Yet after all of it, he was still left alone. If he loved Hermione- if he really loved her as deeply and intricately as he now believed- he’d let her go.
Yes, his inner rationale spoke menacingly. If you love her, you’ll let her walk away… you’ll only hurt her, and your father will only kill her… if you love her… if…
I do, his other mind cried, I do! Don’t tell me I don’t! Tell me I’m a liar, tell me I’m worthless, tell me I’m a waste of a person, but do not ever presume to tell me I can’t love! That I don’t love her, it finished with a shout.
“M- Malfoy?” Hermione’s voice rang circles around the silent room, which seemed to be waiting on delicate breaths. The glow emitting from the blue flames did not crackle, as if too afraid to break the moment- the opportunity- of a lifetime.
And it all came down to now. He knew it. Everything in his life had climaxed to this moment, this point in space where he had the chance to tell Hermione the truth about himself, the truth about everything. But would he? Could he?
He willed his heart to slow. He needed it to back him up before he fell crashing to the hard ground beneath. Daring to heave a sigh, and not knowing how- or even if- he was going to tell her, Malfoy muttered, with soft easing lips,
“Hermione…”
Hermione’s airway closed in upon itself. She’d never heard her name sound so… beautiful. Amazing, she thought inwardly, how the sound of a name can bring one to their knees.
Don’t break your will… he’s hurt you, treated you badly with his refusal to offer any explanation for your pain, she told herself.
But she knew he wanted to say something; what, exactly, she wasn’t sure. But she was sure she needed to hear it, and decided to open the door for him to start.
“Draco… y- you’ve really…” she sighed. “…You’ve really hurt me. And, all I want to know is why,” she asked achingly.
He shook his head in disbelief. What was he to say? The truth would literally destroy her, though he craved to see a smile reach those lips again. And so he gave the only answer he felt comfortable giving:
“I don’t know."
Hermione’s disappointment flourished. She couldn’t help but feel a bit angry. Little did she know, Malfoy was angry beyond compare. He was tottering on the cliff of ruin, and if he fell, he’d never be able to climb out.
And the toiled Slytherin had never been so frustrated in his life. He felt that each path he followed would only lead to more trauma. His sadness never ceased, but it slowly ebbed away into anger with himself and with his whole situation as his eyes traced Hermione’s neck.
“Draco?”
He hissed like the sound of his name on her lips caused him a searing shock of pain.
“What?” Hermione asked concernedly.
Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair. He’d never felt so vulnerable before. His subconscious was pondering where the false Draco had gone. Though false indeed, it was stronger and far less susceptible to hurt. His body felt like it needed that shield, that protection. With an ambiance of foreboding, his mind called upon his smirk- his arrogance- his façade. He needed to play the role yet again, but this time for far more important reasons: her.
And though he knew it, he was growing aware of how much harder it was becoming to lie. Every breath he took felt borrowed.
Half his mind danced with half his heart, as they battled to determine which would win. Standing here before her, feeling naked under the intense gaze of those hazelnut eyes, his heart was winning out; but how much? For how long?
“Draco? What is it?” came Hermione’s familiar voice.
“Just- don’t say my name,” he managed to mumble.
Hermione was stock-still.
“What? Well… what else should I call you?” she inquired half-heartedly. She wanted to skip these theatrical things. She wanted to talk- to understand.
But could she ever?
“Malfoy… call me Malfoy, like you’ve been doing for the past six years,” he nearly spat. It was hard keeping his emotions under control. At any given moment they could burst and turn into rage.
But that moment had already come for Hermione.
She too had been through more than enough, far more than she cared to remember. It was dramatic irony, in a sense, that two identical souls stood before one another; both betrayed by the different masks they wore. Vanity had never seen such glory.
And Hermione had never felt such intense frustration and confusion. She huffed with indignity as her patience exploded within.
“Oh, sod off Malfoy! Merlin, I’m so disgusted with you! After all this, the only thing you have to say to me is a command? Is to call you by your last name?! What sort of- what kind- who are you?!” she sputtered.
“I really thought I was beginning to know that answer,” she continued in gripping tones. “But all you’ve done today is prove that wrong! Just answer me one question and I’ll leave you alone: was there anything growing between us? Friendship, at the least? Could you feel it, or was it just my mind making it up?”
And his breathing ceased.
Malfoy has to strengthen the grip on his heart to keep it from floating away with happiness. Though with an angry air, she had just admitted for the first time aloud that she had developed feelings for Malfoy, and this significance was not lost on him. Through the haze of pessimism, he found something to be pleased about, tainted as it may be.
In this shocked astonishment, Malfoy couldn’t help but to chuckle.
Hermione glared daggers at him.
“What’s funny?” she asked spitefully.
“Nothing…” he said. “Not a damned thing,” he answered honestly, and yet his chuckle grew more defined.
“I swear, you’d better start explaining yourself, or I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” Malfoy asked incredulously, with a hint of arrogance he hadn’t displayed in days. “What’ll you do, Granger? Hex me into oblivion?” he chortled as he stepped even closer to her. The bliss he’d received from Hermione’s words temporarily carried his fears and inhibitions away, to be replaced by the always-slightly-conceitedness that would never be fully washed out of him.
“Perhaps I will,” she answered with narrowed eyes. “Don’t you dare doubt my intentions, Malfoy, because for all that you’ve done to me in the past, this is by far the worst.”
He merely smirked and took three steps backwards before turning around and plopping his body on his bed.
“Well, don’t know what you’re waiting for then. Go on,” he mused.
Hermione was flushing again, but out of increased rage.
“You’re- you… ugh!” she yelled.
Malfoy’s mind was still attached to the beautiful, full realization that Hermione really cared about him, but he managed to respond,
“Bit off the wagon tonight, aren’t we? Have I antagonized you?” He leered.
His words, though certainly not meant to be remotely hurtful, were doused with insensitivity. Hermione’s eyes watered, and she shook her head in defeat. Tears spilled down her cheeks again and she did nothing to hide them.
She was finished. She was giving up. All that she could think to do, she’d done.
Malfoy sat up on his bed and watched her with regretful eyes.
Idiot! he shot at himself. Why had he been so tactless? Why? His fingers tingled with the need to wipe her tears away. His heart had sunk back to the pit of his stomach as quickly as it had inflated.
Smearing her salty droplets on the back of her hand, Hermione whispered, “I can’t look at you anymore.”
And she turned to leave, sniffing madly with hopelessness.
Malfoy jumped up from his bed and rushed in front of the door, hands pressed firmly against it behind him.
“Wait,” he said. “Don’t go.”
“And why not? Why s- should I stay? W- what reason is there?” she choked.
“I… I don’t know,” he sighed. And he really didn’t. Why was he keeping her there? What did he have to offer? He didn’t have answers, he didn’t have hope. He just felt that her presence would give him some answers, tell him where to go from here.
Very luckily for him, Hermione saw a mirror of her own feelings in his sparkling silver eyes.
“Just tell me, Malfoy! Just tell me what’s going on!”
“I can’t! I can’t, alright!?” he screamed suddenly. Hermione took a few protective steps back, and though it crushed Malfoy to see the fear in her eyes, he couldn’t suppress any more.
“Why? Why can’t you tell me? Don’t you- don’t you trust me?” she pleaded.
“It’s not about trust! It’s about protection!” he yelled at the top of his voice. His heart began pumping furiously again.
“Damn it, Hermione, can’t you see!? Use that intelligence, I need you to understand!”
“Protection? Argh!” she fumed, “I can’t understand on my own!” she was yelling back now, wringing her arms through the air. “Help me, Draco! I need your help to understand!”
“Well I can’t give you my help! You’re alone- how does it feel?!”
Hermione blinked.
“How… how does it feel?! It feels the same this time as it did the first hundred times!”
“That’s all you’ve done, isn’t it?! All you’ve done is confuse me, made me second guess everything I’ve known- why can’t you accept how I am?! Why am I not good enough?”
Hermione’s brow furrowed.
“What?! Draco, I- I never said you weren’t-”
“So typical,” he spat. “Can’t fess up to anything, can you? Ever since we’ve agreed on- on this blasted… civility between us, it’s been nothing but you confusing the bloody hell out of me!”
“And how have I done that?!”
“I’m not sure of anything anymore! I had it all figured until you, I knew who I was and-”
“Oh, that’s rubbish!” Hermione screamed. “Don’t you dare pull that on me! You were far more confused then than now! You wore this awful, nasty mask every day- tell me that didn’t confuse you!”
Malfoy secretly knew she was right. But it didn’t matter… he was angry now. Angry for them both; and few people are rational when they’re enraged.
His eyes darkened as he watched her face.
“Answer me, Granger- were you looking to help me?”
Hermione looked at him hard in the eyes.
“Of course...”
“Then you’ve said it yourself, right there!” he steamed.
“Said what?!”
“Why would you want to help me if you didn’t think I needed it? Why would you be so keen to help if you weren’t trying to change me?!”
thump.thump.thump.thump., went his aching heart.
“Your father had just been given the Kiss! Well we thought so at least… I- I was worried, that’s all! And since we did agree to be civil, and since we were the only ones at school, I figured-”
“Don’t lie to yourself, Granger,” he sneered. He was taking quick, deep breaths… his chest rising on each… his voice rising with it… “You were alone, you didn’t have Potter or Weasel around to save you from your own depression, so you needed something to occupy yourself, and I happened to be around! You didn’t care for me at all!”
Malfoy’s eyes were swelled with tears, and his mind raced curiously at the sensation he hadn’t felt in ages. His blonde hair was strewned recklessly across his forehead, his bright, silver eyes piercing through it. Cheeks rosy red in aggravation, they contrasted brilliantly against his ivory skin that seemed alight now with the reflection of a nearby flame.
And all his frustration, all his anger swooped through his system and spilled out, unleashing the most hurtful words he could find; whether he believed in them or not.
“It was always about your sympathy, your need to have a purpose! And I told you then I was a lost cause! I told you I didn’t want your pity, but you sugar coated everything, twisted words to make me trust that you weren’t going to use me! 'Oh, it’s not sympathy, it’s something or another!' But in the end, I was to you the same thing I am to everyone else in this damned school- a good bloody laugh! Because no one ever cares to understand,” he plummeted onward, never once revealing the raw truth behind the tirade; never once dropping a hint that he didn’t really, truly mean it.
Hermione’s heart cracked. She was so fragile at this moment, like a tottering porcelain doll high upon a shelf.
How… how could he think that? she wondered excruciatingly.
“You know that’s not true,” she whispered beneath her tears.
Malfoy did know.
But, “Do I?” is all he answered.
Hermione’s heart rate rivaled Malfoy’s. She needed him to understand; if only she knew that he already did. If only she knew what laid underneath, so close to the surface.
She wanted him to believe her, to trust that her intentions were always sincere. How could she prove it? How could she prove herself? Nothing she said seemed to do any good… no words she could say would help, for he’d only counter them. How could she prove it?
“Kiss me.”
Both their hearts froze in a dead stop. Both pairs of eyes bore into the other.
“W- what?” he stumbled.
Hermione was trembling from fear.
“I- I said, kiss me…”
Malfoy’s eyes widened just slightly, and he felt his hands grow cold with beads of sweat. Dizzy, hazed vision seemed to be blocking his direct eye contact with Hermione’s round spheres. For the second time that night, he found it unnecessarily and ridiculously difficult to remain standing.
But that was nothing compared to how he felt when Hermione took a small step closer, her gaze moving down the length of his jaw and resting on his lips.
thump.thump.thump.thump.thump.thump.
went his heart, more forcefully this time. Any minute now it would tear out of his heaving chest.
“W- why?” he questioned stupidly. Though he really didn’t need any reason beyond his own want. His stomach was suddenly teeming with a thousand butterflies. And yet, even now, his façade held firmly in place. He still had to protect her. He could not falter. He could not kiss her…
“Draco,” she whispered… no other answer was required…
Chills. Fierce chills ran up his arms and sweepingly crawled down his spine.
He closed his eyes.
Don’t, his mind forced. Don’t… not now… you’re so close to making it through this… tell her to leave, or have her blood on your hands…
“I can’t,” he whispered back painfully, turning his face away from her. Those tears were so close to spilling now…
“Why?” it was her turn to question. The hurt in her voice was so obvious, so pleading, it could have shook the room.
Malfoy lightly shook his head and squeezed his eyes, restricting the tears behind his stinging lids. Rubbing his hands over them, he mumbled, “Because I have to protect you.”
Utterly puzzled, Hermione’s expression lingered on pain.
“I don’t understand… protect me? From what? From who?”
Memories of that night swept through her mind. She envisioned herself at the meeting… she was running to the Slytherin common room in a panic… why was she panicking? She saw Malfoy on the floor, tormented… why?
And then it hit her. Lucius…
“Draco…” she whispered, flinging open her eyes. “Your father. He came tonight, didn’t he?”
Malfoy didn’t speak. He couldn’t let Hermione know too much. And he couldn’t allow his voice the opportunity to betray him. He merely stood, swaying with exhaustion on the spot, swiping his hands through his messy hair.
“Listen, you can tell me… the Order already knows, I found out about your father at the meeting. He was never given the kiss,” she said softly, eyebrows furrowed in concern.
Malfoy didn’t turn to face her, but leaned on one hand against the nearest bed, eyes still shut tight.
“Look, I already know, you don’t have to prote-”
“You don’t know,” he mumbled.
Hermione couldn’t quite hear him.
“What?”
“I said you don’t know!" he yelled. "You think Dumbledore could ever possibly describe to you what it’s like? The feeling of constant danger from Lord V- V- Voldemort himself?! My father…” he was so flustered he had to regain control of his voice. He’d finally turned to meet Hermione’s eyes with his own cold, dark ones. “My father is a Death Eater, Granger! What about that hasn’t sunk in?!”
“I’m a big girl, Malfoy, I’ve done loads more than you! I can protect myself! I don’t need you to hold my hand and b-”
“Sure, maybe you’ve had more experience! But I’ve fought differently! I’ve done things- I’ve taken measures that would have me tortured and killed by Lord V- Voldemort if he knew! Do you know what it’s like to psychologically battle against him?! All the damned time?! Against my own father, who’s supposed to be protecting me?! He’d throw me to Voldemort without a second thought if he found out! But I’ve done it! I had myself fooled for so long that my father wasn’t a bad person, I wanted to believe none of those rumors were true… I even convinced myself at times that I was right and everyone else was wrong! But it was a mask, as you put it, and I knew… deep down in places I didn’t talk about, I’ve always known! Secretly, even when your precious Order hasn’t known, I’ve separated myself from the Death Eaters!” his voice rose with each line, his chest still heaving in quick breaths.
Thump,Thump,Thump,Thump,Thump,Thump, his heart raced.
“…All this while living with one! So excuse me, but I think I know better than anyone about who needs protection- because I’ve never had any! I know what’s involved, what risks there are! You haven’t lived with that risk every day! You-don’t-know!”
Shallow breaths. Hard glares.
Hermione’s eyes glistened with tears. She wanted to know. Shaking her head a little and blinking heavily, she murmured,
“And what have you done, Draco?”
Malfoy’s eyes softened, but just slightly… though his breathing was still hurried and strained.
“Potter got a note tonight, didn’t he?” It wasn’t a question. It was a proclamation.
Hermione’s confusion- and now worry- escalated. She stopped all movement and narrowed her watery eyes on his face.
“How did you know that?”
Malfoy let out a snort of laughter, indicating there was nothing funny.
“Dumbledore sent it, isn’t that right?”
“Stop messing with me and tell me about that note!” she yelled.
“I told Dumbledore!”
“Told Dumbledore what?!”
“About my father! He did come tonight, alright?! And you know what he told me? He told me they’re planning an attack, one with Death Eaters and dementors!” he shouted, finally letting go of his hope to keep her sheltered.
Hermione’s eyes widened in terror. She felt the familiar fear pulsating through her veins… her first thought: Harry…
Her anger turned toward Dumbledore now. Why does he need to tell Harry?! What can he possibly do? Why does he need to know now? she wondered achingly. Her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach for her friend. The pressure was beyond her comprehension.
She took a deep breath, trying to maintain a logical mind.
“Where? When?” she asked.
“I don’t know exactly when,” he said roughly. “Soon. Within the next few weeks. He said Hogsmeade… and London.”
Hermione immediately thought of all the defenseless Muggles, perfectly ignorant to the incredible danger they were in. She thought of her parents, and if it were possible, her heart fell deeper. She had to warn them as soon as she could.
And through her fears, she couldn’t help but gain respect- and love- for Malfoy’s courage. Whether he believed her or not, she knew how perilous it was for him to leak this sort of information to Dumbledore. He’d put himself right in the line of fire.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “That was… very… brave and… compassionate of you...”
Malfoy put his hands in his robe pockets and turned to face her. They were maybe three feet apart.
“I didn’t do it for the Muggles. Or for Dumbledore,” he spoke with a painful look of concentration.
Hermione stared at him.
“I did it for you.”
Wave upon wave of emotion swept over her with tidal forces. Her heart was breaking again, and yet it felt fused together by the look her was giving her; that throbbing, pleading look of despair and desperation. He seemed stunned to the spot, so completely lost in his unavoidable misery and dread. He was so afraid now… they were both so vulnerable… and Hermione watched with blurred vision as his own solitary tear crumbled down his cheek with a silvery glow, as if the color had literally drained from his eyes.
Now it was Hermione’s heart that was thumping a cacophony of sound deep in her ears.
He does care about me, she thought with a sigh of relief. He had never meant for any of this… he was sorry for putting her in this position, for dragging her feelings through the mud with his own. He was sorry for not being able to help her, for having to turn her away without offering an explanation as to why. Hermione was realizing this now… and she couldn’t control her feeling of blissful release.
She felt a rise in her throat, but moreover… an urge… a need… to reach out and touch him…
She slowly stepped up to him and placed her trembling hand on his chest. She felt it beating…harder than that one night that seemed so far away. She moved her head up to look him in the eyes. He was staring back down at her longingly.
“Do you believe me that- that I all I’ve thought about… all I’ve wanted to do was be there for you?” she whispered, sending more chills down Malfoy’s body.
He did believe her. He always had… it was a little disappointing that she hadn’t seen through his tirade better.
He wanted to prove that he knew… that he understood everything.
But he still didn’t respond. Her sweet scent was all her could think about, it was engulfing him from every angle. He could almost feel her soft skin… and the butterflies in his stomach churned wildly when he remembered the visual of her bare back as he rubbed it, soothing it better.
“Draco?” she questioned.
He turned his face from her and closed his eyes again.
Hermione slowly eased in closer, her mouth gently grazing across his soft cheek and resting beside his ear.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, her eyelashes fluttering against his skin.
THUMP,THUMP,THUMP,THUMP,THUMP,THUMP,
Hermione felt his chest pulsing against her own… it was rising and falling at a brutal pace. She wanted him to kiss her… she wanted him to feel her sincerity, she wanted him to feel her passion. It couldn’t be described in words, and she needed him to know. She needed him to kiss her.
More tears finally escaped his eyes as they slid down his worn, tired face. He’d never wanted to do something more in his life… he imagined her warm lips parting for him, imagined the sensation of holding her face so intimately close to his…
And it killed his soul to know he couldn’t.
“I can’t,” he choked; and walked away.
Hermione could no longer restrict her own silent tears from spilling out.
“Why? Please, just tell me why!”
“I already have!” Malfoy cried. His cheeks were wet as tears fell with easeful grace, flowing steadily downward. His hands were quivering. Taking two steps away from her, he continued, “I’ve told you why! Were you not listening?! Why do you have to make this so much harder-”
“Oh yes, that’s right, you have to protect me,” she mocked. “You were the one not listening, Draco! I don’t need your protection! I don’t want it! I want you!”
His essence was shattered. Hermione wanted him… and he wanted her so badly, he could still smell her hair… but he couldn’t give himself to her… he couldn’t give her what she wanted.
He felt ready to fall to the ground on his knees.
“I’m sorry,” he choked through his tears. “I’m so sorry… you- you have no idea…”
“Then show me! Show me, damn it!” She was still crying, small drops staining the white blouse beneath her robes.
“I can’t show you! I’ve had to choose, don’t you get that?! I’ve had to choose between my happiness and your life!”
“It’s not just your happiness! It’s mine too! It’s mine, and I want it! I’m so sick of feeling uncertain and fearful, and I want some contentment! And I know you don’t believe me, but I want it for you too! You deserve it just as much!”
“But I can’t!” he screamed.
“Why?! I’m right here, Draco! I’m right here in front of you!”
“But I can’t have you!!” he shouted loudly.
“STOP! Stop with that rubbish! Stop being so noble and righteous! I need you to stop thinking and start feeling!”
“I am feeling! And I’m feeling like I’d rather sacrifice an opportunity so that I don’t have to wake up one morning to hear you’re DEAD!”
“STOP!”
“Stop what?!”
“Stop talking about that! You’re thinking too much, using it as an excuse!”
“It’s not an excuse, it’s a reality! Must be nice not having to live with it!”
Intense anger such as he’d never felt was building inside him… he had to make her understand! He had to make her believe him, but he also had to make her walk away.
“I said STOP!”
“Would you stop shouting?!”
“NO!”
“You’re not making this better, you’re only making this harder than it has to be!”
How would he make her understand?
THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP-
“I’m not! You are, because you’re only thinking about yourself! Has it occurred to you I’d rather risk my life?! It’s not as if it’d be the first time! I can handle it! But all you care about-”
At that moment, Malfoy took three fast steps across the room, placed both his hands on her shoulders, shoved her flat against the stone wall, and swiftly met her lips with his own.
Catching Hermione completely off guard, it took a moment for her body to respond. But soon her soft lips were moving with his, crashing hungrily together. His hands snaked up along her neck and tangled themselves in her softly sweet hair. Hermione gasped for air, but found she was content without it. She could feel his chest rubbing against her as his lips released their yearning for more.
His mind was so unfocused on the consequences, all he could notice was the heap of butterflies that had finally released themselves in his abdomen.
But just as abruptly as he began, he pulled himself away.
They stared at each other, panting from the intensity of it.
Malfoy looked slightly fearful. It had been so unexpected; yet it had finally happened.
All those years of hating each other, all those moments of recent confusion and pain melted away and reformed into a passion greater than what either had anticipated.
Still breathing heavily, Malfoy whispered, “I- I’m sorry...”
Hermione had never felt such mixed sentiments. What was she to think? What had he just done?
“Draco, I…” but she sighed in defeat, not sure what to say herself.
A moment passed as they watched each other. In a haze, Hermione slowly brought her finger to her lips and remembered the warm pressure of his own melting with hers.
Malfoy watched her with a pained expression, feeling so guilty over what he’d just done.
You shouldn’t have done that… it was a mistake…
But the electricity he’d felt as he finally kissed her didn’t leave much room for doubt. If ever there was a mistake, it certainly wasn’t that.
Not knowing what to do now, he moved to his bed and leaned his full weight against one of the posts. He opened his wet eyes to look at Hermione and found she had come much closer.
“Don’t…please, don’t be sorry… it- I…”
But she didn’t know what to say either.
Malfoy watched the soft blue light cast shadows on her face, illuminating her glassy eyes. Oh, how he wanted to reach out and hold her… guilt was an understatement. He’d never felt so terrible in his life.
Her bright, round eyes were lined with dark lashes. He could still feel them tickling his cheek, and he sighed in remembrance. Yet he couldn’t peel his eyes away. She was beautiful…
Hermione watched him closely for any sign as to what to do now.
She had felt it, as soon as their mouths crashed, that feeling of finality, of deep desire. His hair was more disheveled now that ever, but Hermione thought it suited him under the circumstances. His eyes seemed to stare a lifetime into hers…
Instinctively, without being fully aware of what she was doing, Hermione moved closer still so that she could feel his heat. Malfoy’s heart rate was steadily on the rise again… he had finally stopped thinking, and was beginning to feel… just as Hermione had asked.
She placed her shaking hand on his cheek; a hot rush of anticipation coursed through her fingers, into her arm, and nearly stopped her heart. Malfoy lifted his body away from the post and wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her even closer. They could feel the other’s tingling longing...
Lifting her chin so that their gazes met in a frenzy of eagerness- of hope, Malfoy took an extra half a step so that no air could pass between their bodies.
His eyes questioned, Are you sure?… for he was still so terrified of putting her in danger, of committing the ultimate mistake. But there was no mistake about the answer her own eyes were giving back.
He leaned in so gradually, so delicately… Hermione could feel his breathing against her cheek. He leaned in more… she gave a quiet, stifled gasp as their lips met, his very slowly, gentling caressed her own.
The electricity was blinding.
He moved his mouth so softly, so little by little… Hermione moved in harmony with him while she allowed herself to stoke through his soft hair with her hands. Malfoy placed one hand on her rosy cheek, the other rested at the base of her neck as his thumb moved along the length of it.
His gentle, tender kiss became just slightly more aggressive as he moved his lips, seeking entry to her affectionate mouth that was begging to grant it. Hermione released the softest of moans as she fully parted her lips and felt their kiss deepen, the heights of their wants finally met. Malfoy tasted her sweet warmth and gasped. Hermione's hands were out of her control as they tentatively, gently ran down his neck.
After a long moment, he broke apart and saw a fearful question in Hermione’s eyes. He tried to give a look that said she had nothing to worry about as he lightly shifted Hermione onto the bed. He laid her down, soft brown hair fanning out on his emerald pillow. Hermione’s breathing increased… she felt his weight overtop of her.
Reaching his right hand to her cheek, he leaned down and kissed her again, more passionately, and her mouth was ready to part for him. Their kisses grew deeper and the intensity of their heat caused both to pant for breath.
Malfoy released her lips, all thought thoroughly washed out of him. He slowly traced her neck with his mouth, coming to rest as he gently swirled his tongue around her collarbone. He grabbed both her hands with his own, intertwining their fingers above Hermione’s head.
She flung open her eyes and moaned, breathing more heavily than ever before that night. Malfoy was having a hard time keeping up with his own breathing… he’d never known such bliss existed...
Hermione’s hand reached under his shirt and caressed his stomach and chest. Tingles raced through her again when she heard him give soft gasps of pleasure. Malfoy began kissing up her neck, feeling her Goosebumps emerge. He would have smiled slyly if he weren’t so enthralled by her touch, by her soft skin that made his own feel on fire when he touched it.
Their breathing quickened to its fullest extent as Malfoy’s shirt and robes fell to the floor. He swooped down and kissed Hermione deeply, hungrily, as if the world depended on it. Their arms searched each other frantically; Hermione’s blouse had the top three buttons undone.
Not wanting to violate her, or to put her in an awkward position, Malfoy very hesitantly began to slow down, returning to his tender kisses. Beads of sweat had built up on his forehead, and he pushed his face into a cool pillow to help ease his breathing. But when he shifted off Hermione and to the other side of the bed, he laid bare-chested and heaving nonetheless.
Malfoy turned his head to look at her. She had her eyes closed, and small strands of hair clung to her neck.
“Hermione,” he whispered.
She turned to look at him. Surprisingly, her eyes seemed watered with tears but a smile lingered on her lips. She felt fulfilled, and couldn’t help but allow a tear to trail her cheek in happiness.
Malfoy could tell by the loving look on her face that it was a happy cry, one to be looked back on fondly. He stretched out his arm and pulled her to him. Wrapping her arms around his chest, her hand rest sweetly beside his neck. They continued to look each other in the eyes for an extended moment, before Hermione leaned closer to kiss him once more, their mouths melting yet again with their heat. Small gasps could he heard as Malfoy swept his hands underneath the back of her shirt.
When they forced themselves to break apart, Draco felt whole and completely at ease for the first time since he could remember.
The shadows of light danced happily across the bed sheets as a light breeze crept through a slightly opened window. The moon was in perfect view from their position, as it hung brightly in the dark, speckled firmament above. Only the rustling of trees and the pair’s slowing breaths echoed in the dim dormitory, as Malfoy silently ran his fingers through Hermione’s hair.
And the only words that pierced their heaven came as soft whispers, confirming what the observing souls already knew.
“Hermione…” came the first voice, in a low, soothing tone that was still traced with uncertainty.
“…I love you.”
Malfoy felt her smile into his neck as she pulled herself closer.
“I love you, too…” the second voice answered with a content sigh, before trailing away into the night… along with all their inhibitions.
Thump... Thump... Thump... Thump... went both their hearts, pressed together in the dark, finally united by their unequivocal love.