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… Dad has joined a golf club and is never home, which I wouldn’t normally mind but without you around, and Helen being cross with me for missing her potlach two Sundays ago, I can’t stand it anymore. And to make matters worse, he’s cooped up in his office when he is home, reading paleontology textbooks because apparently brachiosauruses are more enthralling than spending time with his dear old wife. I miss you darling, please write more.
“Hey, Granger?” Malfoy called as I passed his seat. He had that snarky grin on his mouth that I’d love to knock right off his pale, moronic face. “Blaise actually learned something interesting in Muggle Studies for once. They were talking about your late descendant. What was his name again?” He peered at his friend.
“Look,” Blaise presented a Star Wars poster, “Chewbacca. First cousin? The resemblance is uncanny.”
Malfoy blew a big, green bubble with his chewing gum and a burst of mint smacked the air. He watched me mischievously, one brow nocked higher than the other in silent victory.
“Did you tell Malfoy about the part where Leia kisses her brother? I’m sure his inbred hormones will flare right up,” I replied.
His jaw clenched, freezing for a moment, and then he began to chew again. “There’s something called a hairbrush. Maybe you should read up on it.” He studied my hair disdainfully. “Or maybe you should chop it all off and spare our eyes the obscenity of flying split ends.”
“One lock of my hair contains more IQ than your entire obstinate brain.”
“Ever heard of overkill? No wonder your dumb git of a ginger boyfriend dumped your arse for that simpleton,” he nodded towards Lavender, who happened to be sitting in front of Blaise, “your IQ was strangling him at night.”
Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t turn.
I was about to respond, but the door slammed open signalling Snape’s grand entrance.
Three steps down the aisle, I realized a pair of Slytherins had taken my usual seat. The only spot left was in front of Malfoy—and right next to Lavender.
At least I’d get the last word. “Didn’t realize you were so riveted by Gryffindor gossip. But suppose the Slytherin scoop is only so fascinating when everyone marries their second cousins.”
“So long as we get to avoid bushy-haired heirs with dirt in their veins.”
“You should consider yourself lucky if your spawn has frizz. Better than fused limbs and a lumpy skull.” I turned around, feeling rather proud of myself.
Snape started to speak in his low drawl. Behind me, the Slytherins snickered.
I swiveled around to see what they thought was so funny.
The both of them looked down at their textbooks, avoiding eye-contact.
“Have your eyes jumped to the back of your… head… Ms. Granger?” Snape hovered next to my desk, his long and imposing shadow towering over me.
I flushed. “No, Professor.”
His black brows furrowed, and he tilted his head to the side. “You really ought to find a comb,” he returned to the front of the class, “or you’ll never know what odd objects might… stick… in there.”
What?
I touched the back of my head and something wet and tacky strung onto my finger. A piece snapped off. It was bright green and stunk of peppermint.
He.
Did.
Not.
Toss.
His.
Gum.
Into.
My.
Hair.
“MALFOY!” I screamed, shoving his textbook into his gut. “You disgusting, filthy, spiteful, sorry, little slob! I’m going to murder you!”
Silence descended upon the classroom.
Tears prickled my eyes.
He’d spat his gum near the top of my head, meaning I’d have to cut a chunk off up there, meaning there was no fixing it unless I planned to cut my hair short.
“Death threats in my classroom, Ms. Granger?” Snape returned to our row. Index, middle, ring finger, and pinky draping over his elbow in bleak irritation.
“My hair,” I said, choking on a sob. “He spat gum into my hair!”
His black, lifeless eyes panned to Malfoy. “Is this… true… Mr. Malfoy?”
“Certainly not, Professor.” His grin was far too smug.
“It is, Sir.” A new voice butted in. A surprising one.
From beside me, Lavender spoke, “Malfoy was chewing gum, he’s sitting right behind her, and he isn’t chewing it anymore. His breath probably smells like it.”
Malfoy scowled at her.
Blaise said, “It’s not true, Sir. I was here the whole time and I would’ve seen if he’d done it.”
“Come here, Mr. Malfoy.” Snape demanded. Draco’s stool squeaked back, and he shuffled towards Snape, looking slightly paler than usual. “Open your mouth.”
“Sir…”
“I said open your mouth.”
And so he did, of course he did. If it were a couple of years ago, Snape would’ve had to crouch but Malfoy was his height now so he merely leaned closer and sniffed. And then he came behind me and sniffed the green gum stuck to my precious curls. “That was highly immature, Mr. Malfoy. Ten points from Slytherin.”
A collective groan rose from half of the class.
“And ten points from Gryffindor.”
“What?” I shouted. “I did nothing!”
“You threatened to murder another student. That’s hardly… nothing.” He shot me a pointed look. “I grow tired of these dim-witted disputes eating into class time that is sorely needed for your oafish minds. The both of you will serve detention every day for the next two weeks.” He swept to the front again. “Now let us commence if nobody else has anymore death threats,” he shot me a dark glare, then turned to Malfoy, “or petty pranks.”
By the end of the school day, the gum was still stuck in my hair like a gunky mint-scented spiderweb. There was no time to deal with it so I glamoured it away and tried not to think about it. There had to be a solution that didn’t involve a pair of scissors. I couldn’t get a boy cut! I’d look like Albert Einstein’s great-granddaughter.
Blast Malfoy, that rotten, slimy toad!
But as it turned out, I didn’t have to search for a solution after all.
“Professor Snape could not supervise detention this evening.” McGonagall was waiting for us in the Potions classroom. Her hair gathered in its classic bun, stretching her temples and eyes upwards.
She shot me a sympathetic look. “I heard about the chewing gum incident and produced the afternoon’s task accordingly.” Clutched in her long, bony fingers was a vial of purple liquid. “As the two brightest students of your year, you should be setting forward-thinking examples. Encouraging civility between your houses. Not demonstrating such foolish behaviour.”
With a flick of her wand, the classroom tables cleared, opening a wide space in the centre of the room. She conjured a washbasin and a chair. “Is the gum still there, Ms. Granger?”
I nodded, vanishing the glamour to show her.
She tskd like a sorry old grandmother and shot Malfoy a stern, admonishing look.
He averted his gaze, pink blooming on the apples of his cheeks.
“Hopefully this activity unlocks the gates to a new friendship.” She handed Malfoy the vial. “That should dissolve the gum without ruining her hair.”
He stared at the bottle blankly. “Your pardon?”
Oh God.
“Professor, this really isn’t necessary. I can do it myself.”
“I’m afraid, Ms. Granger, you said some nasty things to Mr. Malfoy in Professor Snape’s class and aren’t to be dismissed so quickly. Besides, it’s adhered in a rather unfortunate spot and I doubt you will be able to properly reach.”
Her shoulders straightened. Charcoal dress robes swished around her ankles. “I will be in my office but expect you to report to me the moment the task is complete.” The sound of clicking heels faded with her departure.
Malfoy waited all of five seconds before opening his stupid mouth.
“This is absolutely ridiculous.” He scoffed. “I have to touch… that.”
“As if I want you touching my hair! If you hadn’t been an immature bully and spat your germ-infested gum at me, none of this would’ve happened.”
“I better not catch lice or some Muggle disease.”
He wanted cleanliness? I could be more than accommodating.
From the basin, I snatched the handheld spray nozzle and pointed it at him. The lever was cold beneath my fingers as I yanked to full blast.
He jumped back, but it was too late. The sharp tips of his hair plastered onto his forehead. Water dripped down his chin, onto his throat, absorbing into the flattened collar of his bleach white school shirt. Now faded peachy-pink like second skin.
Oh, this felt good. I needed this. The way he glared at me was the cherry on top of my sodden masterpiece. As if he could pull off intimidation looking like a drowned ferret.
I laughed.
“You little bitch!” He lunged at me. I sprayed him again. He raised a protective shield and the water hit a clear wall, dribbling like rain down a clean window.
“Huh,” I mused, staring pointedly at his torso.
“What?” he growled.
“Thought quidditch was supposed to make you fit. The girls in our year will be so disappointed to find out that Draco Malfoy is scrawny.”
Vivid splotches of red appeared on his neck, his cheeks, even the tips of his ears. He placed the purple vial by the faucet with a resonant clang.
I took a step back as he began to unbutton his shirt. “What are you doing?”
“Can hardly expect me to stay in drenched clothes while we do this,” he spat as he made quick work of removing the soggy fabric from his shoulders.
So, I may have exaggerated slightly.
And maybe I stared just a little.
His skin was fair like a blank canvas or a creepy shop mannequin without a single freckle or spot, chest hair so light it was barely discernible especially in the poorly lit classroom. His pale pink nipples had pebbled and beneath them spanned three uniform rows of slick, hardened muscle.
He cleared his throat before my eyes could dip lower. “Who needs Veritaserum when Hermione Granger’s wishing-well eyes are swallowing my abs.” He snorted. “Scrawny, right?”
“Get over yourself.” I sat on the chair and piled my hair into the basin, raising a protective charm below my neck in case he tried to get back at me. “Try anything funny and I’m telling McGonagall.”
“You’re such a fucking arse-kisser.” He lifted the shower head and switched it on, holding it over my hair. My neck arched back, head going heavy. “How does someone have this much hair? No wonder you’re twiggy, you carry a Bludger on top of your head.”
“Most people consider thick hair a positive attribute.”
“I highly doubt anyone is envious of this.” I couldn’t see his expression but I didn’t need to. His mouth was probably warbled in a W-shape, eyes narrowed into slits, nose scrunching.
“Serves you right for being a repulsive camel. Now deal with the consequences.”
“Camel?” He snorted.
“They spit.”
“Could’ve said cobra.”
“Where’s the originality in that? Everyone already knows you’re a slimy snake,” I said.
“Am I to be offended?”
“You really have to ask?”
“Yes because your insults stink. First a harmless desert creature and then my house emblem. Still waiting for the burn.”
“And you calling my hair thick was so painful. Oh how I writhe.”
“I can hike it up if that’s what you want.” And then he aimed the spray at my chest.
I gasped, shooting up to my feet. “What the hell!”
I peeled the cotton shirt from my skin, though there was no point because it was completely see-through. That bastard! Distracting me with half-baked arguments until my guard was down.
“A black bra? Really?” He smirked. “Where’s the logic in that, Miss Logical?”
“Wasn’t expecting showers today.”
“Expect the unexpected. Life’s dull otherwise.”
“Oh yeah?”
“W-what are you doing?”
“Can hardly expect me to stay in drenched clothes while we do this.” Throwing his words back at him, I flicked the last button of my school shirt open and dropped it on the ground. “Where were we?”
Malfoy’s predictable gaze zeroed in on my chest where I did have freckles. Three to be exact. One directly over my heart, a tiny one on my right rib that you had to squint your eyes to see, and one just above my nipple. But of course he couldn’t see that one.
When his eyes lowered to my waist, I sat down, putting an end to the peepshow. And if my blood gushed too fast and the pulse at my neck bounced like a kangaroo on Vitamix, I didn’t acknowledge it.
“Did you give up the goods that easily to Weaselbee? Maybe that’s why he dumped your pathetic arse,” he muttered, working the water through my curls again. Before shutting my eyes to shield them from the mist, I caught Malfoy staring at the curve of my breasts.
“Is your love life so dire you’ve decided to dig into the affairs of your favourite house?”
McGonagall’s solution smelled like fresh roses and brown sugar. He tugged lightly near the roots, rubbing the gum away.
Ignoring me, he said, “It’s sad, really, getting tossed over by the lowest of the lows—well apart from you Mudbloods, of course.”
No matter how many times I heard that word it stung just the same and I hated it. “If you see yourself as this almighty superior being, why are you so obsessed with making my life miserable?”
“You should know your place.”
“Above you in all subjects? Everyone knows exactly where I rank.”
“That’s just the thing, Granger…”
I despised the rotten words coming out of his mouth when his fingers were combing my hair like that. It felt odd like I was in two places at once. Neither here nor there.
“… no matter how you rank at school, you’ll always fall flat in the real world. Purebloods will never see you as an equal and you’ll spend your whole life fighting for respect that you will never truly earn.”
I squeezed my eyes more tightly and bit my tongue until it burned.
He didn’t need to remind me. The thought of life after school was worrisome precisely because of families like the Malfoys and the Crabbes and the Goyles. Those who’d stand against me even if I was the most qualified candidate for any role. If Hogwarts was bad, life after graduation was bound to be infinitely worse.
“Is that how you like to win?” I croaked. “By default? Because your worthiest opponent is deemed unworthy for the circumstances of her birth? Where’s the integrity in that?”
He said nothing.
The sound of water splashing ceramic became uncomfortably loud.
“You’re a dreamer,” he said at last in a low voice, “to think people actually care about integrity out there.”
“That’s a Muggle song, you know.” I clasped my hands on my lap and drew a lazy circle with my thumb. “You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.”
“Thought you prided yourself on rationality and logic.”
“Usually. But when the rest of society is immensely dense, you change tactics.”
“What? If you can’t beat them, join them kind of thing? Hate to break it to you, but that doesn’t work in your situation,” he said.
“Where did you even hear that? It’s a Muggle saying.”
“Blaise.”
“He’s really enjoying those Muggle Studies.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s a bird course.”
“I don’t mean it in that kind of way,” I said, circling back to his beat em’, join em’ comment. “More like—if you can’t beat them, change the game.”
“And how do you intend to do that?” He shut off the tap and squeezed my hair like a cloth, wrenching the excess water from the ends.
“By becoming impossible to ignore.” I sat up. Long strands of hair clung to my bare shoulders and neck. Frizz replaced by loose curls, more so waves than regular coils.
Something shifted in his gaze when I faced him. There was no malice in his expression. No, more like confusion, or maybe curiosity. His eyes dropped to my breasts again.
“That sounds like you’re joining them.” His response was extremely delayed.
“And when I nestle myself within the Ministry,” I continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “I’m going to rise to the very top, and after I do that—I’m going to flip everything on its senseless, chauvinistic head.”
He laughed. “Definitely a dreamer.”
… so sorry to hear about the chewing gum incident. That boy sounds like a menace. I hope you put him in his place. Speaking of putting people in their place, Dad’s adopted a guard dog. Not that the crime rate is high in the neighbourhood (please don’t worry, we’re fine) but Janet next door’s car was broken into and a pair of designer sunglasses was stolen. I think it was her daughter, she’s turning fifteen this year and already has an eyebrow piercing. But Dad took the opening to bring a big, heavy mutt into the home. If you ask me, it’s just another excuse to leave the house, but I digress… How’s Crook—
“What you got there, Hermione?” Harry called from across the table.
Even though he couldn’t read it from there, I folded the page over my hand. “Just a letter from Mum.”
“How’s she doing?” His eyes were gentle and sincere-looking and for a moment I considered telling him.
Ron arrived, taking a seat directly across from me. He curled his freckled arms around Lavender’s generous waist, and hauled her onto his lap. “You’re looking pretty today.”
Ginny shot me a sympathetic look.
Harry took it as an opportunity to steal the last rosemary potato off her plate.
She noticed and squeezed his face to get him to spit it back out.
What was she going to do? Eat it all soggy and chewed up? Or was it more like if she can’t have it then no one can?
I slipped Mum’s letter into my bookbag and set off for detention without saying goodbye.
Sir Nicholas didn’t so much as tip his head when I passed him outside of the Great Hall. It was like primary school all over again.
One time I got invited to a classmate’s birthday party. The other girls had party hats on, and when I slipped my purple cone with sparkly streamers over my head, they waggled fingers at me and said I was copying them.
Thunk!
“Well, well, well if it isn’t Mudblood Granger.” Crabbe snickered as I scrambled to regain my footing.
On second thought, loneliness was preferable to certain company.
He was by himself, which was surprising.
“Where’s your lord and saviour?” I asked. “Shouldn’t you be kissing the floor he walks on or fanning the sweat off his brow?”
“Ha ha hilarious.” He stepped forward, the scent of grilled sausage and fried beans wafting off him. “Probing for info on your crush? He told us you flashed him at detention.”
Of course he did.
“Was your Pureblood prince blushing over seeing my bra? It’s certainly more riveting than your man boobs.”
“You bitch!” He came at me, but my wand was already digging into his throat, right at his pulse point.
I clicked my tongue. “I don’t think so.”
“What are you going to do, goody-two-shoes? Cast an Unforgivable?”
I made a loud sniffing noise. “You smell odd, Vincent… Did you eat something fowl?” I chanted, “Slugulus Eructo.”
A loud gurgling noise rose from the base of his throat. He coughed, gagged, then folded over and puked the first fat slug. Green and sticky-looking with a speckled spine.
I leaped back to avoid catching it on the tip of my shoe.
“Doesn’t look good. I suppose you’ll need to get that checked.” I walked away, grinning.
The sound of Crabbe’s violent vomiting echoed behind me. Splat after splat of slugs slapping the floor.
“What’s with you Gryffindors and that curse? I suppose it’s a testament to your taste.”
I startled when Malfoy emerged from an alcove, blocking my path.
I pointed my wand at his chest.
He grinned. “Going to curse me too?”
“I flashed you? Is your life so small and pathetic that you see a girl’s bra and suddenly it’s Slytherin’s hot gossip?”
“You mean you didn’t go gabbing to all your friends about my abs? After spending all that time gawking at them.”
“There was absolutely nothing to tell.” I tried side-stepping him, but he followed. “Move.”
He rolled his eyes. “We’re going the same way, Granger.”
“You walk slow.”
“Walk slow? Reckon you mis-measured the size of those stubby legs.” His chin jutted towards my knee-high socks.
I flicked my wrist towards the path. “Run along then.”
“But you see, I’m a perfect gentleman and shall do you the honour of escorting you personally.”
“I thought my blood excluded me from the scope of your chivalry.”
“Now, now, Granger, let’s not act closed-minded. Just because I am leaps and bounds greater than you, doesn’t mean I’ll forget my manners. I even held the door open for a Muggle once.”
I gasped. “You did not! Did they get on their knees and kiss your hand for the privilege?”
“No, though if you’d like to do so at the end of our walk I wouldn’t be opposed.”
“You’d just love that, wouldn’t you?” I stopped mid-stride, and he had to backtrack. “Getting me on my knees.”
His eyes shifted to said knees and slowly ascended, lingering on my chest for a second too long before settling on the messy bun at the top of my head.
I’d never admit it out loud, but the gum incident had induced some paranoia so I’d been tying my hair. So far, no tacky items had found home in my curls.
“You offering?” he goaded, and then blew a big, minty bubble in my face.
I shoved him. “You and that blasted chewing gum!”
“Scarred?” He said it like the thought delighted him. In the fire-lit hallway his eyes glimmered like melted votive candles.
“You will be if you chomp like a bloody goat anywhere near my vicinity again.” I continued onwards, without waiting for him.
But as he’d so eloquently pointed out, his legs were significantly longer than mine and keeping up didn’t cost him so much as an extra breath.
We entered the Potions classroom and I was spared whichever dim response was on the tip of his tongue.
Snape stood by his desk, glowering at the doorway, and then us. “How kind of you to show up.” He gestured towards a table at the back corner of the room, geared with two cauldrons and an assortment of colourful ingredients and lab equipment. “You’ll brew potions for Madam Pomfrey. Don’t bother me. Read the labelled vials to see which ones are required of you.”
He departed.
I levitated a cauldron to a different station, taking care to choose the one without the chipped lip.
Malfoy watched bemusedly. “What are you doing?”
“As if I’m going to work next to you. You’ll find a way to set my hair on fire and call it a bloody accident.”
“Honoured you have such faith in my talents.”
“Shut up.”
Admittedly, detention wasn’t so horrendous. I enjoyed brewing potions and since the recipes were basic it didn’t take long for my mind to wander.
I thought of Ron holding Lavender, calling her pretty, without even acknowledging my presence though I was right across the table.
Having a girlfriend had become the new trend, and I’d been an easy catch. It was obvious how much I admired Ron’s sparkly blue eyes and stubborn propensity to make me laugh. He provided escape from my crowded curriculum and companionship in a busy house where I wasn’t the most favoured girl.
There’d been a nasty storm the day we broke up so I could visualize it clearly. As if the wretched universe wanted the memory permanently ingrained in my mind. Rain pelleted the grounds so loudly you could barely hear yourself think, slick mud caked the soles of our shoes, and the corridors had become a mudslide much to Filch’s dismay.
Ron ended it.
Was I surprised that he began to snog Lavender in empty classrooms a week and a half—nine days, to be precise—after he’d told me I wasn’t his type? Not immensely.
Did it hurt that I’d been the one to catch them on patrol?
I wish I’d never gone out with him because our house unwittingly took sides. And who would choose the bossy, know-it-all (Ron’s words) over the bloke who made them laugh so hard their ribs hurt? Including Harry, though he insisted otherwise.
But they were coupled up, and what was every couple’s favourite activity? The stodgy double date. And who wasn’t invited to said double da—
“You’ll burn that potion.”
Oh right, Malfoy was here. He hadn’t spoken in fifteen minutes, which must be a record for him.
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Is that why you’ve been churning the cauldron for three minutes? What is that over two hundred rotations? You’re going faster than one per second.”
“Why are you staring at me? Mind your own work.”
He grinded something with the mortar and pestle, though I couldn’t tell what it was. Maybe moth wings. “Dreaming again, dreamer?” he taunted. “What now? Thoughts of world domination? How you’ll turn Purebloods into your slaves and taint the magical world with your—”
“Call my blood dirty one more time, Malfoy. Go on, I dare you.”
He came around the table to stand right in front of me. Our shoes inches apart.
Round-toe oxfords, women’s size 4, flat black laces, a small white scuff on the right shoe.
Leather ankle boots with a slightly tapered toe, men’s size 11?, shiny and unmarked, effortlessly elegant. School uniform trousers tailored to his exact height, black leather belt with a platinum buckle, crisp white shirt tucked into the waist, no jumper, green and silver tie loosened at the collar as if it was too hot. Long white throat, smug grin, sharp nose, and pale, pale, pale eyes.
I hated that I had to tilt my head back to meet them. And then I thought of those pink pebbled nipples and imagined squeezing one between my index finger and thumb until it peaked again, but then I’d squeeze so hard that he’d scream at me—
“Does that brain ever turn off?” He sounded amused.
“Want to teach me how? I haven’t mastered the art of being simple-minded.”
“Should’ve asked your ex for pointers.”
I laughed and promptly covered my mouth with my hand.
For his part, Malfoy looked shocked.
And then he laughed. “Glad you’re sighting the error of your ways, Granger.”
“Why are we always discussing my past relationship? How about you?” I lifted the tip of my nose to form a snout. “Seasonal allergies must’ve been a really fun time. How many bats could you spot in her cave in one snogging?”
“You’re a cruel, cruel girl,” he said, but the corners of his mouth were undeniably lifted. “Who had the audacity to sort you in Gryffindor?”
“Who knows?” I turned back to my cauldron and ladled the draught into an empty vial. “Maybe I would’ve been a Slytherin if I’d been born into a different family.”
The thought had crossed my mind before. When I’d been sorted into Gryffindor, I’d been ecstatic. People were friendly! The common room was extraordinary, sizzling with magic and rich history. We were courageous and daring and determined like lions.
But over the years, I’d wondered if maybe I could’ve been someone… else.
Not that I prided myself on being cruel but people hadn’t been kind to me and I wouldn’t sit on the sidelines and take it. Defending myself wasn’t enough—I wanted to get back at those who’d hurt my feelings.
I wanted Ron to know how it felt to be shoved aside for someone else. I wanted the Slytherins to bleed for calling me inferior my whole life. I wanted to be powerful so I could show all the people who’d doubted me that they’d been wrong. Was that what a Gryffindor would do?
Frankly, the idea of being sorted into one house and pigeonholing myself to one set of personality traits and ambitions was idiotic in of itself.
I didn’t intend to abuse power. I planned to set this antiquated world right. Free those who’d been inferior their whole lives for simply existing. Give actual chances to the Muggleborn witches and wizards who’d follow me. Was that what a Slytherin would do?
“Have you ever wondered about that?” I asked. “If you’d have been sorted into another house if you weren’t a Malfoy? Maybe you’d have been a Ravenclaw.”
He’d returned to his station and was pouring his ground concoction from the mortar into the cauldron. A cloud of white dust particles floated in the air. “I don’t sulk about in the library on my own because I don’t have any friends. Unlike you, I belong in my house.”
“Right,” I said, swallowing. “You call those pathetic followers your friends. Do they even know the first thing about who you are as a person? Or do they look at you and see the money in your vault and all your shiny bells and whistles?”
Maybe he didn’t even know. He’d grown up around this energy, around people bending to his whim for a sip of the status, an association to his family, his whole life. I doubted the likes of Crabbe and Goyle were interested in him because he received high marks and liked to read books over his spare time.
How else would he have noticed me at the library? That pointy nose was constantly pressed between the pages of a hardcover.
“My friends aren’t piss-poor Weasleys,” he said defensively. “They have their own money.”
“Shouldn’t you know better than anyone? The Weasleys might not have much, but it doesn’t mean they want it as badly as your friends do. The more you have of something, the harder it is to resist the temptation.”
… we’re opening a second dental practice. Dad’s overseeing the setup and hiring staff. He’ll work from that location and I’ll continue at the home branch. We named the dog Hamlet, he’s rather smelly but has big brown eyes that pull you right in. So long as I’m not picking up excrements, I suppose he isn’t so bad.
By the way, I’ve sent you hair products. I went to one of those frivolous salons the other day, the ones that give you champagne and let you choose the music (they weren’t overly fond of Vivaldi). Anyway, the quaintest homosexual man worked wonders on my curls and told me to send you this conditioner since you’ve inherited my horrible frizz. I figured there might be some fancy potion that could do a better job, but I haven’t seen you try any and sometimes a remedy from home might do just the trick.
“Hey, Hermione.”
I shoved Mum’s letter under my textbook and looked up. “Hello, Seamus.”
“What are you working on?” He sat at an angle on the chair across my desk, like he didn’t intend to stay long.
“Arithmancy homework.”
“Oh, bummer. On a Saturday too. Didn’t feel like hitting Hogsmeade?”
I shrugged. “The others went on a double date.”
“Ah, the lowly third wheel. I get it. Dean’s been seeing Parvati and I can’t stand being in a room with them for longer than five minutes. Can’t keep his bloody hands to himself.”
It occurred to me that Seamus was jealous… of Parvati. But I didn’t say that. “Is that why you’re here on a Saturday, too?”
“That… and I had to finish my Charms essay. I was actually hoping to ask you for a favour?” He opened his school bag with a speckled hand.
“What?”
“Could you proof-read it for me? If you have the time. You’re the best at school and I could really use the help.” He withdrew a stack of sheets. The top one had crinkled and he smoothed it out with his palm.
“Fine.” I reached out my hand, looking away so he wouldn’t see the shine in my eyes. “Give it here.”
“You’re the absolute best, Hermione.” He passed it to me. “I was rooting for you, you know. With Ron. Sorry, that didn’t work out.”
“Is that all?” The first line of his essay already had an error.
“Uh yeah…” he said awkwardly. “Thanks again.”
Only when I heard his muffled footsteps did I look up. His head disappeared behind a row of 17th century books.
Bleary-eyed and yawning for the fifteenth time since I left the library, I trudged back to the common room. Everyone would’ve returned from Hogsmeade by now, likely tipsy and high off too much sugar, playing late night games and testing out whichever gadget Fred and George had conjured up this week.
Pounding footsteps rose behind me, growing louder.
I turned to see what the commotion was about when a pair of hands snatched my waist, hauling me off my feet.
I screamed and began kicking.
“Quick, get her wand!” The voice above my head rushed out.
I tried using the sharp points of my elbows to clip my attacker but Goyle, who was barrelling towards us, cast a Petrificus Totalus.
My body locked tight.
Panic rose as I raged against the magical barrier, clawing at invisible walls. But no matter how I tried, my limbs refused to cooperate.
Goyle felt me up with his big, grubby hands until he located the bulge of my wand. He yanked it roughly from the waistband of my skirt. Part of my shirt slipped out, becoming half untucked.
As if I were a sack of flour, Crabbe slung me over his shoulder and set off in a jog down the corridor.
His sweaty hand rested on my bare thigh between my sock and the hem of my skirt. Putrid sweat and musky cologne stung my nostrils like he’d tried to conceal his stench with something expensive and long-lasting.
I tried screaming but it was no use.
It was the worst of my nightmares come true. The ones where I tried to scream for help but couldn’t make any noise.
A door creaked on its hinges.
We entered a dark classroom.
He tossed me in a heap on the floor. My skull smashed the ground. A sharp throb and the world disappeared, but only for a second.
Ceiling tiles re-emerged, twirling like moving staircases above my head. My eyes glazed staring at them.
“Right then,” Crabbe said, looking too pleased with himself as he hovered above me. “What to do with you, Mudblood?”
“We should get Draco,” Goyle said. “He’ll be pissed off if he misses this.”
“Fine. Go get him.”
“Me? You should go.”
“I’m the one who captured her, I get to stay.”
My mind raced, sifting through everything I knew about the spell and if there were any loopholes to break it on my own. But their arguing was distracting, and my head had gone all woozy after being dropped.
The boys went back and forth. “But I was the one who cast the spell. Without it your balls would be bruised right now.”
“I was the one who chundered slugs for six hours!”
“Fine. But don’t do anything until I get back.”
“Promise.”
Of course, Crabbe was a rotten liar and the moment Goyle left the room he was on me. “Not so brave now, are you, Mudblood?” He jeered and then smacked me across the face.
Sharp ringing blared through my eardrums and tears prickled my eyes. I hadn’t so much as flinched.
Who was on patrol tonight? Any chance they hadn’t checked this classroom yet? Maybe Seamus would come looking for me to get his bloody essay back. Fat chance he’d check here, though.
His stubby fingers wrapped around my throat, foul breath in my face. “Do you know how painful it was to vomit slugs over and over again?” His hand tightened, blocking my airway. “It’s like your stomach is going to explode. Couldn’t eat anything for two days.”
Black spots floated in the sky like opaque bubbles. His silhouette fuzzed. I never noticed before how he was shaped like a snowman. So round.
“How does it feel? Watching me win?”
Each sense fluttered away. Taste. Scent. Sight was next. Slowly, slowly, spanning its wings and leaving me alone.
Crabbe squeezed and squeezed, eyes glowing with maniacal delight. Was this the last thing I’d see before I died?
My fingers wouldn’t twitch. Eyes wide-open even as my sense of sight soared further and further, waning like the cycle of the moon sped up. Full, waning, quarter, crescent, gone.
“I swear, Goyle, this better be good interrupting my—”
I knew that voice better than the others. I knew it at the “I”. The one letter alone was drenched in pretension.
“The hell’s the matter with you!”
My throat opened up and air lodged itself back through my nostrils. Painfully.
“Are you trying to get yourself expelled?”
“Mudblood cursed me last week and no one bloody believed me! Not that toad, Pomfrey. Said Saint over there volunteers her free time at the bloody hosp wing so why would she hurt another student?” Crabbe’s voice surged too quickly, like he was panicking. “And which professor showed up for the report? Bloody McGonagall, that cunt. As if her star pupil would do something so vicious and even if she did, then it was well-deserved.”
“She said that?” Goyle sounded outraged.
“Course not! But I could tell it was what she meant. Saw it in her beady little eyes.”
A gust of magic swept over me, and suddenly I could move again. I sat up with a gasp, hands flying to my throat. Every breath flared iron hot like I was choking on fire.
“What’d you do that for?” Crabbe’s eyes shot to the boy next to me. “Hadn’t even started with her yet.”
“Was death not a good enough punishment?” Malfoy’s voice was eerily calm. “What else were you planning to do?”
“Wasn’t going to kill her.” Crabbe scoffed. “Let’s freeze her again and have a proper go.”
I whimpered, scrambling backwards. I was trapped in a room with three armed boys who hated me, without my wand, and my head continued to spin.
Crabbe’s wand pointed to my chest, about to cast the spell, but Malfoy said, “Stop.”
He hesitated. “Why?”
“Eager to tell your father you were expelled because of a Mudblood?” Malfoy’s voice sounded entirely too close. I scooted away. “Besides, I reckon she’s learned her lesson. I mean… look at her.”
I looked at him, knelt next to me, and had to do a double take. His eyes were pinned to my neck, and they were furious.
“Leave,” he said.
For a moment I thought he was talking to me, but his head turned to his friends.
“What?” Crabbe asked, appalled. “What do you mean leave?”
“Did you not bloody hear me?” he spat, practically shaking. “Get out of here.”
Crabbe and Goyle exchanged uncertain looks before shrugging and obeying their master dutifully. I’d have rolled my eyes if I wasn’t so grateful.
I shot out my hand, clasping Malfoy’s forearm. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and it was bare skin on bare skin.
He shot me an irritated look, but I ignored him. “My—” my voice was barely a whisper, “—my wand.” I needed water desperately.
“Which one of you’s got her wand?” He stopped them. “Hand it over.”
A reluctant Goyle slipped it from his back pocket and gave it to him. Malfoy didn’t give it back to me. He watched the two of them leave the room, shutting the door behind them.
And then he turned to me. “Really bloody clever, Granger. Getting yourself caught by those two of all people.” He came closer. I slid back. He froze. “Let me heal you.”
“Fuck off.” I croaked. “Wand.”
He gave it to me and I conjured a glass of water. It was cold and prickly against my sore throat, so I took my time sipping it until I reached the bottom of the glass and filled it again.
“What are you still doing here?” I asked after finishing the second glass, feeling significantly better, though the rasp in my voice was obvious.
“That’s how you thank me?” He bared his teeth. “I saved your bloody life.”
“This is your fault.” I stood, wiping the dust off my clothes and re-tucking the end of my shirt into my skirt.
“My fault? How the hell was it my fault?”
“This,” I waved towards myself, “is what happens when you go around calling me a Mudblood all the time and acting like you’re so much better than me. It makes your goons think it’s okay to shove me into an empty classroom and have their merry way with me.”
Colour jumped from his cheeks. A muscle ticked in his jaw twice. His eyes fell to the waistband of my skirt, as if recalling how it had been rumpled. “He touched you?” his voice was very low.
Why was he looking at me like that? “Do you care?” I asked instead of immediately denying it. Were our after-class detentions softening him up? Did he hate me moderately less than before?
“Malfoys don’t affiliate themselves with rapists.”
How bloody typical.
“Don’t worry, Malfoy, he didn’t touch me. You can go back to using him as your errand boy.” I started to leave the classroom.
He clutched my wrist.
I tore away from his grasp. “Don’t touch me!”
He ignored me and swept my hair over my shoulder, eyes firm on my neck where I imagined Crabbe had left a necklace of bruises. But then his hand grazed my cheek, making me flinch. Oh right, he’d backhanded me. Forgot about that. But now that I was thinking about it, that bloody hurt, too. “Let me heal you.”
“No, thanks.” I took a step back, but he stepped forward. “I can take care of myself.”
His eyes were fixated on my mouth, drawing closer. I stared at his lips. They were parted like he was about to speak because he didn’t know how to keep his bloody words to himself and always had too many of them.
But he didn’t say anything.
Somewhere outside, I heard chattering. Strange vocabulary and adult voices from another era—the paintings socializing with one another. Deeper within, a steady and erratic thumpthumpthumpthump, my heart barely recovered and sprinting again.
And Draco came closer. Lower. Draco? No. Malfoy. His name was Malfoy.
“And you wonder why you’re so alone.” His words hummed around my mouth, danced over my swollen cheek, sunk into my skin.
I shoved him away. “I’d rather be alone than spend time with the likes of you.”
It was bad.
No wonder Malfoy had been looking at me like that.
It didn’t look so much like a choker of bruises, but splashes of red spread like a wine stain. My cheek was swollen, one side significantly puffier than the other. And there was this deer-in-headlights look to my eyes that made me wonder if they had frozen me that way. If Crabbe had stared at that terror with greedy thirst as he choked the life out of me.
Using basic healing spells I’d learned from Pomfrey, I began the mending process.
And you wonder why you’re so alone.
What had he meant by that? As if he could fill that void in my life?
What would have happened if they hadn’t fetched Malfoy? Would Crabbe really have murdered me in his ire? And how was Malfoy going to explain himself to his minions? There was a time when he would’ve jumped at the chance to torture me.
Or would he?
Petty hexes and sharp words were his specialty. But physical blows and strangulation? He wasn’t the type to get stains on his white shirt. With my dirty blood, as he liked to remind me every day. Though, significantly less recently, and only in front of other people.
This was surely a testament to my miserable existence. I was finding the pros of Draco Malfoy. Maybe I’d hit my head a little too hard in the classroom.
And you wonder why you’re so alone.
Or maybe it was because he was the only one to talk to me without asking for a favour.
Let me heal you.
Would I have offered him the same if our roles had been reversed?
“Blaise thought you were a new student today.”
I frowned, glancing at Malfoy. He chopped three-inch sprigs of lavender at the station next to mine. The air was rife with it, even from where I stood.
“Why?” I was slicing valerian. We’d been tasked with preparing ingredients for Snape’s First Year lab tomorrow.
“He saw you from behind and your hair looked like… that.”
I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling. Was that why I was getting so many odd looks today? I’d tried Mum’s gift this morning and was pleasantly surprised to find it actually worked. The frizz was gone, and my hair fell in loose curls down my back.
I turned back to my work, making a precise incision on the stem. “I used a Muggle conditioner.” Why did I tell him that?
“I suppose you folk have some redeeming products.”
I looked at him and saw he was already watching me. Leaden eyes on my neck but there was nothing to see because I’d vanished all the bruises.
I’d considered going to Dumbledore about the incident, but then figured Crabbe would tell him I’d used a curse on him and get in trouble too. Even if my punishment would be less severe, I didn’t want to deal with it.
If they intercepted me alone again, I’d be ready.
“Did Draco Malfoy just compliment a Muggle invention? I think I fell into a parallel universe.”
His mouth cocked up into a cheeky grin. “I listened to that song.”
“Which song?”
“The Dreamer one or whatever.”
“Imagine?”
“Sure, if that’s what it’s called.”
“How did you get your hands on that?”
“Blaise had this case thingy from class and Burbage gave him the glue and one of those songs was that one.”
It took me a moment to decode what he’d just said, and then I laughed. “A cassette player? She gave him a tape?”
His cheeks went rosy. It was oddly pleasant that he was so pale, I could spot his blush a quidditch pitch away. “Yeah.”
“And?”
“And what?” he asked.
“What did you think of the song?”
“It was very you.”
“That’s it?” I was disappointed. Imagine always gave me goosebumps, but it didn’t resonate with him in the slightest? What was the point of such songs if they didn’t get through to headstrong people who so desperately needed to hear them?
“Is that your mission? To get into the Ministry and work miracles?”
“You think it’s a miracle?”
“To want everyone to hold hands and get along? Yeah, Granger, I’d call that a miracle. What? You thought I’d hear it and imagine this fluffy future with pink ponies and prancing puppies?”
“No,” I said slowly, as if he were dense, because sometimes, he really was. “I thought you’d call it preposterous.”
“His voice wasn’t half bad.”
“Not the song.” I sighed. “The message. I thought it would disgust you. I didn’t think you’d call it a miracle.”
“Fuck.” A stream of blood dripped onto his table. Crimson soaking pretty purple petals.
Without thinking, I rushed over and took his hand. He froze, but didn’t yank it back like I’d done the other night.
Let me heal you.
And you wonder why you’re so alone.
The open wound where he’d sliced himself stitched back together as I hovered my wand and chanted the spell under my breath. His hand trembled on my palm.
When I looked up, I saw he was staring at my lips. Heat trailed up my neck and cheeks. To hide the incriminating blush, I focused on casting a Scourgify so his hand was shiny and new again.
“The message didn’t disgust me,” he mumbled. “Like I said, it reminded me of you.”
“Exactly.” I pulled away, staring at his blood on the table.
“Who’d you reckon I’d be without the possessions and the name?” he asked. “I’d lose my identity. But you… you don’t really have much of either and that means the bloody sky’s your limit. If that song came to fruition, you’d stand a chance. But people like me… we’d be nothing.”
“That’s not true.” His honesty chafed instead of making me smug like it would have a week ago. “Even if I am cleverer than you, it doesn’t mean you aren’t clever. That’s the most irritating bit about you, you know. At least your goons are nobodies without their titles and toys, but you… you’d be someone either way.”
“Anyone could be someone.”
I elaborated. “You’d be someone worthy of respect, if you weren’t a prick about it like always.” He shot me a look, but I continued. “You’re ambitious and intelligent and as convinced as I’d been, you’re not actually evil incarnate. There’s a heart in there somewhere and sometimes, a heart is all you need to make a difference.”
“Remember how you said you could be a Slytherin last week?”
I laughed. “Too schmaltzy for your serpent ears?”
“Overkill is more like it.”
I shoved his arm and got a laugh out of him.
His mended hand drew a crescent on my cheek—the one Crabbe had struck. My breath caught in my throat, but I didn’t pull back.
“You’re not the only one,” he breathed.
I shut my eyes, leaning into his touch.
The door slammed open, and we sprang apart.
Snape shot us a sharp look. His lip curled, seeming disturbed.
I flushed.
He rounded the workstation and glanced at the chopped lavender. “Whose blood is that?”
Draco caught my eye, and I wondered if it dawned on him that the slurs he’d subjected me to since we were prepubescent had no basis. They were as imaginary as my miracle world, as imaginary as his superiority because of the gold in his vault and the name tacked onto his birth certificate.
And then it occurred to me that was what he’d been trying to imply this whole conversation.
At some point, maybe when he’d found Crabbe strangling me Saturday night, or when I’d asked him if he could’ve been a Ravenclaw, or when we’d stripped off our shirts and realized we were equally enticed by each other’s naked skin, at some point we’d overgrown the iron fences and reached for one another.
You’re not the only one.
… I know you were looking forward to the holidays, darling, but it’s best you wait to visit in the summer. Perhaps you can go to a friend’s? Harry’s maybe? I know how you adore his mother. Dad has rented a house near the new practice and is moving there with Hamlet next week. Don’t you worry, things should return to normal in a jiffy. I’m thrilled the conditioner worked! Send one of those moving photographs when you get a chance. I love to see that pretty smile.
I stopped mid-stride when I spotted the figure perched at the edge of the Astronomy Tower. His legs dangled off the ledge through the gaps of the railing. Midday sun splashed onto his hair making it silvery and smooth like quartz, stark against the high collar of his dark coat.
I considered turning back and realized I didn’t want to.
He looked surprised to see me but not in a bad way. “Hey, didn’t know you liked this spot.” He shuffled over so I could sit beside him.
The view was spectacular even though the grounds weren’t green anymore. Treeless hills swept high in the distance. A sparkling serpentine river trailed between them, its reflection rippled rocky plains and fire-gilded clouds. Some floated just ahead. If I reached out my arm, I might touch one. Feel it mist between my fingertips.
“Only when I’m sad,” I told him.
“And why are you sad?” he asked carefully.
“I think my parents are getting divorced.” Speaking it out loud left a foul taste in my mouth. Making it too real.
He placed an arm around my shoulder.
There was no hesitation—not from him, nor from me. I hid my face in the lapel of his fine black coat. Butter soft against my cheek, readily absorbing my tears. He squeezed until my arms wound around him, holding on just as tightly. Tighter.
All thoughts evaporated except for how nice it was to have someone to speak to. To have a blasted shoulder or neck or spine to cry on.
He held steady against my muffled sobs. My muscles thawed. Rising and falling with his breath. Gradually growing deeper as time passed.
A cold gust of wind slapped my hair into his mouth and he chuckled despite everything, making me laugh too.
He removed a leather glove with his front teeth, and brushed the tears from beneath my eyes. His hand was toasty warm and assertive, no trace of hesitation when he touched me.
The way he looked at me… it wasn’t him.
His hair lifted in the breeze, revealing a delicate fold between his brows. Blankety concern in his eyes. “How do you know?”
I handed him the letter without considering how personal it was. How I was giving him a window into my Muggle life, for him to mock or jeer at or judge.
As he read it, I cast a warming charm on myself to deflect the ferocious wind, and to spare myself the awkwardness of watching him read it. I couldn’t bear to witness his reaction.
“Who’s Hamlet?”
“Their new dog.”
“They named him after ham?”
I laughed, endeared by his confusion. “It’s a character from a Shakespeare play. He was a very famous Muggle playwright and poet.”
“This isn’t a guarantee of divorce, Granger.” He handed the letter back to me. I folded it twice and slipped it back into my coat pocket. “Sometimes people need time apart before they realize they’re better off together. My…” he stuttered, looking at me carefully.
Something on my face made him continue, “… mother left my father for a while. She lived in France on her own. Nearly a year. But she came back to him and they’ve been better for it.”
Warmth unfurled at the base of my chest. I wasn’t expecting him to confess something so personal about his family. Something I could easily hold against him.
“You really think they’d get back together?” I met his eyes and found them gazing at me, all wonder and soft edges.
“Look, I don’t want to give you false hope, but I also don’t want you to worry about something that hasn’t happened yet. People have a way of… surprising you.”
Two nearly invisible lines rested above the bridge of his nose. He’d spent so much of his life frowning that wrinkles had formed early. The realization made me smile. Was Draco a boy whose scowls tallied higher than his smiles? And if so, could I change it so premature wrinkles appeared above his lips? Or at the corners of his eyes?
Eyes that peered into mine like he saw me. Up close I noticed his pupils were bordered by canary yellow halos. They seeped into deep blue-grey like the sea after dusk. I captured every shift of colour, the reflection of the clouds passing his irises. Watched deep black discs widen as our inches became millimetres. Until our lips met and my eyes shut.
We spilled onto the cold stone floor.
He was on top of me, knees on either side of my hips, mouth pushing deeper and deeper, inhaling me.
I wrapped my arms around him. Our bodies pressed together like opposite pages of a book. He was heavy and smelled like mint and clean skin. White silk draped over my eyes as he began to explore with ravenous lips, treading kisses over my chin, jaw, and neck.
We rolled over.
He cradled the back of my skull, one leather glove, one bare hand.
“Granger,” he said between shared breath.
“Hermione,” I corrected.
“Hermione,” he intoned, trying it out. He smiled and kissed me again. “Hermione.”
“Draco,” I said in return.
He kissed me harder.
Our tongues collided. He tasted like mint, too. I reeled back as something slipped into my mouth. “Really, Malfoy?”
He chuckled. “Better your tongue than your hair, right?” His fingers combed through a section of my hair, down to the very tips.
I blew an enormous bubble with the gum that was now in my mouth and snapped it in his face. A piece stuck to the tip of his nose. “Oops.”
“You irritating witch.” He wiped it away with the gloveless palm. “Should really watch where you chomp that thing. Like a bloody goat!”
“Shut up.” I smacked his chest, my hand settling on soft wool again. “How’d you like it if I spat it in your hair?”
“Would you wash it out for me later? Shirtless of course.” His lips recaptured mine and when his mouth opened, I returned the gum.
“You can keep that,” I said, getting up.
He yanked me back down by the hips. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Away from you and that horrid chewing gum.”
His throat bobbed and I heard him swallow. He showed me his tongue. “Problem solved.”
“So you like to swallow, huh?”
Mischief sparked in his eyes as he flipped us around once more so he was on top of me. “The important question, Hermione, is if you do.”
“You’re an ass.”
“Yeah?” He pressed kisses on the pulse of my neck, and I wondered if he felt it drum on his lips. “Why are you snogging me, then?”
“You’re snogging me.”
“Hm.” He pulled away. “Last I checked, snogging was a two-way street.”
I clutched the front of his coat and kissed him again. Even though the gum was gone, his tongue tasted devilishly of it, and I suppose mine did too.
“You started it.”
He nibbled my earlobe. “Isn’t that out of character? Weren’t you supposed to be the brave lioness?”
I snorted. “Need to be brave to kiss me?”
“Have you met you?” He cocked a brow. “You don’t let anyone get away with anything.”
“Least of all you.”
“For now.”
“For always.”
… I appreciate the kind words, darling. I’m alright, and I can’t wait to have you home in the summer. You look so happy in that photograph! What’s got you laughing like that? Could it be a boy? (Please don’t tell me it was the one who spat the gum in your hair… though, it would be rather funny, wouldn’t it?) Whatever is the source of that happiness I hope you grasp onto it, and remember that life is unsteady, but we hold on anyway because it’s worth it. By the way, I’m considering adopting another dog. Name suggestions?
It was our last day of detention. I brewed Draught of Peace for Snape, and bluish-silver steam filled the room, rising in flame-like swirls. Cool mist cleansed my lungs, softening the edges of the lab. Watching vapor form iridescent patterns eased every bit of tension from my limbs.
Or maybe it was because of the boy raining offensively sweet kisses down my neck.
He’d left his potion brewing at the table behind me, which I was certain Snape was going to reprimand him for whether or not he was his favourite student. But Draco was a Slytherin and heeding instructions wasn’t his forte. I suppose it wasn’t mine either.
His hands were clasped on either side of my waist. Broad chest pressed to my back, distracting me.
Two weeks ago, he’d stripped off his shirt, and I’d pretended not to care— but now? I conjured a list of all the places we could sneak off to after detention beginning with the Astronomy Tower.
The tip of his nose brushed the column of my neck and my train of thought puffed away.
He breathed me in. “I’ve thought about doing this all fucking day.”
I grinned, trying to focus on the potion but it was becoming incredibly difficult. Lips that were used to saying mean, terrible things felt too velvety on my skin.
“You’re going to burn your potion.”
“I’ll brew another one,” he said too easily, used to having his way no matter the cost.
“Snape won’t be happy about that.”
“I don’t bloody care about bloody Snape.”
He gathered my hair in one hand and draped it over my right shoulder. Quickly covering every exposed inch of my neck with his possessive mouth. I angled my head, creating more room.
My eyes fluttered shut. I sighed. “That feels nice.”
His arm wrapped all the way around my waist, clinging to me like he was worried I’d run away, or as if he needed something to hold on to. “Keep talking.”
“Can’t say anyone’s told me that before.”
“I love the sound of your voice,” he said, which was funny because I loved the sound of his. “Follows me in my sleep, you arguing with me.”
“Enjoy that, do you?”
“Are you joking?” he said into my ear, licking the outer shell. “It’s invigorating. I look forward to arguing with you every single day.”
“Sounds like an auspicious start to a relationship.”
Realizing what I’d blurted out, I tensed. Nobody had said anything about a relationship… well, I had just now, but it was Draco Malfoy…
“Did you freeze like a spooked doe because the idea freaks you out, or is it because you think I’ll run away?”
“Won’t you run away?”
He turned me around. Hands clasped together at the base of my spine, confining me in his arms. “Because your parents are Muggles?”
“Of course.”
“Well, you see, Granger—Hermione, I’ve drawn some conclusions about that entire ordeal.”
“Oh?”
“I’m realizing we aren’t so different, you and I.” Expressive eyes reflected metallic turquoise next to the gurgling potion, his heart shining just beneath the surface. “Your parents name things after theatre and mine name them after constellations—they’re both stories, really.” A kiss on the corner of my mouth. “You’re bossy, I’m a leader.”
I scoffed at that one, remembering who I was speaking to. He shushed me, continuing on.
“We’re brilliant. You’re alone and I’m lonely.” A teasing flick of his tongue above my cupid’s bow. “We’re both minty and delicious. You’re a dreamer, and I like to dream. And sometimes,” he brushed my cheek with the back of his hand, “those dreams come true.”