Hermione had been hurrying along the deserted sixth floor corridor, alone, trying to get to the library. Few students were inside being that it was a Saturday, and the first nice one of the season at that. Suddenly, she collided with someone rushing out of the boys’ loo. They both fell backward from the impact. Regaining her wits about her, she scrambled to her feet brushing her curly brown hair out of her face. Recognizing the boy who had hit her she queried, “Malfoy! What the bloody hell is your…?” Her words trailed off as she got a good look at the figure sprawled at her feet.
If anything, he was paler than usual; if that was possible,Hermione thought to herself. There was also obvious evidence on his cheeks that he had been crying. Why? What could have made him, Mr. I’m-A-Pure-Blood, cry? Her attention was drawn away from her thoughts as Draco got to his feet, brushing at his open robes he drawled, “Got your nose buried in a book again, Granger?”
Straightening up, she quickly recovered her composure and snapped, “You should try it sometime, Malfoy! You might learn a thing or two. Do you always exit a room without watching where you’re going?”
“Granger, Granger, Granger,” he whispered as he stepped closer to her. She felt the intensity of his body being so near to hers. “Do you always have to rush wherever you go? What’s the matter? Potter needs a Mudblood to give him the answers? Or is it Weasley?” he ground out.
Hermoine’s temper rose within her as she saw his familiar smirk. “Maybe I should ask why the cold-hearted Slytherin King was shedding tears. Did Lucius tell his precious baby boy ‘no’?” she retorted.
She watched as Draco’s eyes narrowed and he quickly closed the miniscule space between them. His right hand snaked up behind her neck and he twisted his fingers tightly into her hair, making it impossible for her to move. His left hand grasped her upper arm. He pressed his lean body into hers as he asked her silkily, “Come now, Granger. Do you really think I don’t get what I want?”
Spellbound and slightly scared, she stared at his face. Her mouth was dry and her breath had quickened. She had nowhere to look but at him. Uncertainty clouded her mind at the sensations she felt coursing through her. What is wrong with me? This is Malfoy, the king of all gits! Sanity grappled within her brain, trying to make sense of these feelings. Why am I reacting like this? And to him of all people?!
Desperately, she tried to clear her mind when she suddenly remembered her wand in her robe pocket. Having found her voice she managed to say, “Pretty confident in your abilities, aren’t you, Malfoy? Now get your hands off of me.” Her wand, secured in her left hand, pushed into his right side. She witnessed the surprise as it etched on his face at the realization that her wand was poking into him.
Draco looked down at Hermione’s wand and back up into her face and snarled, “Are you going to hex me, Granger? I think not. Not with you being a Prefect and all. It wouldn’t look good for you to hex another Prefect. But, gladly I’ll let go, I wouldn’t want to dirty myself further. Just remember this, Granger,” he spat out, “no one will believe you, if you tell them what you saw. After all, I am… me. You just keep it to yourself if you know what’s good for you.”
As quickly as he had grabbed her, he released her. Hermione stumbled back and placed her right hand on the wall to catch her balance. Pure loathing and something else crossed her face. Silently, she watched as he strode away from her until he disappeared around the corner. She let out the breath that she was unaware she had been holding. Merlin’s beard!
Sagging against the wall, she thought about her reaction to being that close to him. Why did I react like that? A thought struck her and her breath caught again. She whispered out loud, “It felt so good being held like that by him. What am I thinking? It was Malfoy after all.” Try as she might, she couldn’t erase the feelings that had swept through her during their confrontation.
Confusion settled into her brain as she recalled the incident. Why had he been rushing out of the loo like that anyway? What had broken through that steely demeanor of his? She wasn’t sure what it was but she knew one thing; she was going to find out.
Around the corner of the corridor, out of sight, Draco stood with his feet splayed, arms outstretched with his palms flat against the wall. Head hanging between his arms as he tried to compose himself, he quietly murmured, “What the bloody hell is wrong with me? That was Granger!”
He took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Why did I react to her like that? She’s not even a Pure-Blood! He opened his eyes and stared up at the wall; not seeing it, but her large brown eyes instead. It felt so good to hold her close. What am I thinking? He shook his head to clear it.
A nagging feeling hit him. “Damn! She saw my face. She’s sure to tell Potter and Weasley. I’ll have to be more vigilant than ever,” he mumbled. One thing he knew; he was going to have to stay away from her.
That night in her dormitory as she got ready for patrolling the halls, Hermione went over her plan in her head. Satisfied, she strode from her room and went down the stairs that led to the common room. Ron and Harry were pouring over a game of Wizard Chess. It was Ron’s night to patrol with her.
Hermione sat down beside Ron and, reaching into the pocket of her robes, pulled out two Galleons. Ron and Harry stared at the Galleons then looked up simultaneously at her; their faces etched with questions. Ron spoke first. “What are you giving us these for?” Before she could speak, Harry, quick to grasp the meaning of the coins inquired, “What’s going on Hermione? What’s happened?”
Looking around to be certain they could not be overheard, Hermione leaned in toward them and whispered, “I put a Protean Charm on these.” Ron interrupted with a groan, but was silenced by Hermione’s glare. Continuing in a hushed voice, she proceeded to tell them about her encounter with Malfoy. She purposely left out the part of him grabbing her and her reaction to him.
Ron goggled at Hermione. “You mean to say that you want us to tail Malfoy every spare moment we have?” “That’s the general idea,” Hermione conceded. Harry who had not spoken yet murmured, “So, I’m to keep a look out using the Marauder’s Map and then let you know where he is by putting it on the coins?”
“Precisely,” Hermione responded. “It’s not like you can wander the corridors with us, Harry. You’re not a Prefect. Ron and I don’t patrol the same halls together so you have to notify us somehow so we can secretly observe him.” She looked pointedly at Ron. “What?” he spluttered. “I know you, Ron, and I don’t want you to approach him if you can get near him first. We’ll never discover what he’s up to if you hex him into oblivion. Besides, he’s going to suspect that we’re on to him, so he’ll be extra cautious.”
Ron grumbled under his breath, “Nothing the prat doesn’t deserve.” Harry however spoke quietly. “What if you meet up with him before one of us shows up? What if he sees you?” Hermione shot him a look. “Harry, you cannot be out roaming the halls after hours; you’re not a Prefect.” Sitting up and squaring her shoulders, she went on undaunted. “I can handle Malfoy.” With that, she stood up and made her way to the portrait hole. Peering over her shoulder, she saw them both looking at her. Turning, she stepped through the opening and disappeared.
Down in the Slytherin common room, Malfoy reclined back on the couch lost in his thoughts of the day’s events. Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini were lost in conversation. Pansy was all but sitting on Malfoy’s lap, vying for his attention. “Draco,” she whined, “you’re not listening to me.” Her lower lip stuck out in a familiar Pansy-pout as she attempted to run her hand through his blonde hair. Draco pulled back from her touch and gave her a look of contempt as he pushed her unceremoniously away from him. “Knock it off, Pansy,” he muttered as he stood up. “I’m going to bed,” and strode off toward his dorm, leaving a vexed Pansy staring at his retreating back.
Once in his room, Draco went straight to his bed and pulled the drapes surrounding it closed. He sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Expelling a large sigh, he shrugged out of his robes, removed his clothes, except his boxers, and climbed under the covers. He lay staring up at the ceiling. He would not be going anywhere tonight. It was a risk he could not afford to take. He knew time was a precious commodity; one he did not have a lot of, but after running into Granger in the hall he knew she would be on the look out for him. He hoped her tenacity wouldn’t bring unneeded attention upon him.
“Damn,” he mumbled and hit the mattress with his right fist. He knew he would have to make up for lost time, but he could not chance it tonight. Surely Granger had told Potter and Weasley how he had acted suspiciously. What else did she tell them? He let out a long breath and closed his eyes. An unwanted vision swam before his eyes as he drifted off into a fitful sleep. She was a determined Gryffindor with curly brown hair.
Unintended Desire of the Heart by laceymoibella
Chapter Notes: HBP is disregarded. All characters belong to JKR. Warning; mild sexual content.
Thank you to my wonderful beta, Social Loner! You are awesome!