Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Look at him, absolute tosser thought he could pick up where he left off, and he’d still be King Slytherin.” Ron snorted into a bowl of PixiePuffs before looking at Harry, who was frowning in Malfoy’s direction. “You can’t seriously feel sorry for him, Harry?” He mumbled around a mouthful, gawping. 

Hermione scrunched up her nose in disgust as she caught sight of half chewed cereal in Ron’s mouth before casting her eyes back at Malfoy who had sat himself down at the far end of the Slytherin breakfast table; only for those who had been sat nearest him to stand quickly and move further down the long benches. It had been five months since the battle of Hogwarts and a month since their return for their final year of study. Their small class was referred to as ‘8th years’, although all their classes were combined with the final-year students who hadn’t missed an entire year for one reason or another.

“I don't think he had anywhere else to go,” Harry said, looking down at his plate. He had been tearing at a flaky pastry, much of it uneaten.

“Thats crap, the Malfoy’s have estates all over Wizarding Europe, he could have gone anywhere.” Ron swallowed his mouthful before letting his spoon clatter into his bowl, spraying drops of cereal-stained milk up the front of his robes.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ron. Everything his parents owned was seized after their arrests. And sorry, wasn’t it you who was drunkenly blabbering on about how ‘for peace to last’ we needed to accept one another, both pureblood and muggle-born alike?” She gave the redhead a scolding look, “Or was I correct in my thinking that you were just repeating the front page of the Prophet for the benefit of those Hufflepuff 7th years girls?” She raised an eyebrow expectantly and pursed her lips, awaiting his answer.

Ron’s cheeks turned a deep beetroot as he stammered, “Yeah, well, I meant— people not accused of war crimes.”

“Malfoy was acquitted of his crimes, or did you not read about his trial?” She shook her head and turned back to look at the blonde, a worried crease between her eyes as she recalled the evidence that had worked in his favor: his father’s journal entries, the memories that had been forcibly taken from Malfoy’s mind of his aunt’s torturous techniques after her escape from Azkaban. It was no wonder Malfoy had been a child so full of hate and so easily manipulated by those who withheld all love and affection unless he met their agenda.

“Yeah, well. Probably all total bullshit.” Ron grumbled before grabbing at the large platter of pastries and taking a bite of an almond top croissant, sulking slightly that his friends hadn't shared in his sentiments quite as vivaciously as he had hoped.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she stood, grabbing the strap of her satchel and hauling it onto her shoulder, its heavy contents knocking against the hardwood table and sending a goblet of pumpkin juice tumbling over. Students close to them looked at her as she pulled out her wand and cleared the mess wordlessly with a swish.

“Where are you off to?” Harry said, checking the large clock on the wall. They had less than an hour before classes began.

“To practice what Ronald has been preaching.” Her words were confident, but her legs shook slightly as she stepped over the bench. Nervously, she pulled at her robes as she marched in Draco Malfoy’s direction, more than a dozen eyes following her as she went. Her footfall’s slowed ever so slightly as she drew closer and she let her eyes take in the man before her; still that white halo of straight white blonde hair, although not so perfectly styled as it had been before the battle, strands fell forward into his eyes and it looked like it hadn't been cut in some time; curling around the collar of his robes, his gray eyes looked darker; their colour extenuated by the dark circles beneath them and those haughty features that Hermione would have found attractive if they hadn’t been attached to a person so deplorable looked sharper, his cheeks hollow and skin gray looking.

“Can I sit here?” He hadn’t even looked up at her approach, busy staring at the silver plate before him where a green apple had been expertly sliced into thin slivers.

“You get him, Hermione!” Someone from the Ravenclaw table shouted at her, and she frowned in that general direction, catching sight of the eager eyes watching her. Were they waiting for some kind of confrontation? A fight? She glowered at the sea of faces before looking back down at Malfoy, who was watching her now, his face emotionless.

“Come to exact some well-deserved revenge, Granger?” He muttered. His voice sounded hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in some time. Hermione stepped across the bench and sat down opposite him. His eyes widened slightly, and he glanced around nervously but said nothing.

“Are you enjoying classes?” She asked, unsure what else they had to talk about that wouldn’t open a can of worms.

He looked a little horrified and downright confused, full lips slightly parted as he stared at her, silent.

“I’m finding Ancient Runes a little dull this year, and of course, I opted out of divination—as if anyone needs an N.E.W.T. in that—but overall, I'm enjoying most of my subjects. What did you elect for?” She continued to fill the silence.

“You’re honestly talking to me about classes?” He finally spoke, that emotionless expression back.

“Did you have another topic you wished to talk about?” She hoped he had no intention of it; she spoke enough about the events of the war in her mind healing sessions, and although the worst of the panic attacks were few and far between now, she didn’t wish to bring one on in a public place. 

Malfoy watched her as she waited for him to answer, his eyebrows drawing together for a beat as his eyes narrowed minutely with suspicion. It looked like he was fighting an internal battle between telling her to go away and answering her question and continuing this odd interaction. She could overhear people muttering about them around the hall. She ignored them, and was definitely not about to turn around and look back at Harry and Ron. She had a rich enough imagination to picture the shock on Harry’s face and the revulsion likely plastered on Ron’s.

Malfoy finally decided on a course of action, “Potions, transfiguration, alchemy, charms, astronomy, ancient runes, and Herbology.” He listed off his N.E.W.T subjects, and Hermione was surprised to hear he wasn’t taking Defence against the dark arts.

“No DADA?” The words came before she could consider how they might be perceived, and she bit her bottom lip as he flinched. 

“I wasn’t permitted to take that subject.” He said coldly, and she winced, nodding once before moving on.

“Did you finish the Ancient Runes homework?” She flipped her satchel open and pulled out a large tome and a rolled piece of parchment, glancing up at him as she let them book thump down on the table. “If you haven’t, then you can have this. I checked it from the library last week; it was particularly helpful on the translations Professor Babbling wanted for this week.”

Malfoy looked from the large book to the parchment and then up at Hermione. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Sorry?” Hermione placed her hands in her lap, gripping her fingers together tightly and taking a deep breath through her nose and out of her mouth to calm the peak of anxiety that had shot through her stomach.

“Why are you talking to me?” He repeated, gray eyes bore into hers, and she broke the contact, looking down at the slices of apple, which were beginning to turn brown at the edges.

“You—I,” She stammered, “You just looked…” She didn’t want to finish that observation; telling him he looked lonely would not be taken well.

“Hermione Granger, lost of words, how refreshing.” She thought the corner of his lips twitched into a smile before returning to a hard line.

“Well, you seem to eat breakfast alone, and I just thought—“ he cut her off,

“You just thought I needed your pity?” The words were harsh, biting. Even with the stoney expression.

“I don’t pity you.” She spoke hurriedly. He snorted, leaning away from her slightly and glancing over her momentarily, making Hermione’s skin prickle at its intensity of his passing gaze.

“Am I not pitiable?” He asked,

She contemplated the question, wondering whether he wanted a real answer or not. “I supposed you could be.” His eyebrow quirked upwards at her response. Clearly, he hadn’t expected the truth. 

“But you don’t pity me?”

She shrugged, “I don’t think so.” She wasn’t completely sure of that answer, “I haven’t considered it.”

“So you just brought yourself over here on a whim?” He didn’t look convinced. 

“I can admit I hadn’t put a lot of thought behind it.” She admitted, and again he looked a little surprised.

Silence grew between them as he looked at her, studying her face in a way that made her feel incredibly uncomfortable before he turned to his bag, slender fingers opening it, drawing his own roll of parchment out, and handing it over to her. “We can compare notes if you wish?”

Hermione was astonished as she raised a trembling hand to the scroll and took it from him before lifting her own and handing it over. He carefully unfurled it, and she followed suit, unable to concentrate fully on his elegant scrawl as she read and re-read the page, trying to process the information. She had always known Malfoy was clever, never far behind her in exam rankings, but she had to admit she was somewhat taken aback by the depth of his research and the insights he had gleamed from the rune translations that matched her own preciously.

“As anticipated, your work is flawless.” He was the first to speak as she scanned his conclusion for the fourth time; he rolled up her parchment.

“Thank you, I’m impressed by your work. I hadn’t considered the dual nature of Sowilo as both the sun itself and a symbol of joy or even the end of it when combined with Wunjo or Laguz. It’s an intriguing thought.” There was that twitch to the corner of his lips again. She rolled up his parchment, fumbling with it slightly. He gaze unnerving her again. His hand moved forward, and she flinched, pausing for a moment before he slowly took the half-rolled parchment from her hand, cool fingers grazing the back of her hand.

“The manor was full of runes,” he quickly rolled his homework up and placed it back inside his bag, “I spent an entire summer translating them.” His voice had taken on a hollow nature, forcing away any feelings he had toward that memory as he spoke.

“I would have liked to see that.” She said, another statement she was unsure of. She didn't ever want to see the inside of Malfoy Manor again. 

A dark shadow moved across Malfoy’s features, and she blinked before registering a presence behind her.

“Come on, Hermione, I will walk you to class.” Ron stood at her side, glowering at Malfoy as he spoke. Malfoy returned the glare with a sneer, and butterflies began to flap widely in her stomach. She was having a surprisingly pleasant, albeit awkward, interaction with Malfoy, and Ron would spoil that. 

“That’s alright, Ron. I have ancient runes with Malfoy first thing. We are going to go together.” Hermione said, it did not defuse the tension. Ron visibly stiffened, and Malfoy smirked.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Hermione.” Ron ground out through clenched teeth. Hermione could see Harry hovering awkwardly a few metres away.

“Don’t be silly, Ron. You and Harry have a free period, and you both have potions homework to finish. I will meet you before defense against dark arts.” She waved him off with a flick of her hand, but he didn’t move. She glanced over at Malfoy, who looked thoroughly entertained by Ron’s mounting rage.

“Go on.” She said, putting on her best Professor McGonagall voice. Harry moved forward and tugged on Ron’s sleeve,

“Come on, mate, I got a new copy of Quidditch through the ages; you need to see the updated chapter on The Chudley Canons.” Harry barely glanced between Hermione and Malfoy before he gave a furious Ron a hard shove toward the doors.

“I'm warning you, Malfoy—“ Ron started as Harry steered him away, his idle threat going with them, and Hermione shot them both a hard look before clucking her tongue and turning back to Malfoy.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said, cheeks tinging pink.

Malfoy watched as her friends exited the great hall before he looked back at her, “Now that's behavior I expect.” He said cooly.

“But maybe not behavior you quite deserve.” Another unsure statement,

“Don’t be naive, Granger.” He sneered at her words before standing swiftly, lifting his bag before he paused, looking down at her.

“Well, are we going to Ancient Runes or not?” He asked, taking her by surprise.

“Oh,” She fumbled with her bag, staggering to her feet, ignoring the not-so-quiet mutterings that grew louder as she made her way down the hall, side by side with Draco Malfoy.

————————————

That first week of October followed this same routine. She would start breakfast with Harry and Ron, both of whom watched her with concerned faces and tried to broach the subject of Malfoy several times before she cut them off. The three would watch him enter the hall and take his seat alone, another plate of sliced apple that would always go uneaten before him, and then Hermione would excuse herself and take a seat opposite him.

They discussed simple things: classes, the weather, what this year’s Halloween decoration might look like, nothing deeper. They had even spoken about meeting in the library between classes to work on homework for the subjects they shared, although they hadn’t set a time for that yet.
People stared,
People talked
Hermione ignored them all. 

“Do you have a free class after Lunch?” He asked her, tucking a small leather-bound book she was lending him into the inside of his robes. It was a list of adjustments that could be made to certain potions to affect potency or provide additional effects. She had spent most of the night reading it, making notes on areas that interested her most before sliding it into her bag to give to Malfoy in the morning.

“No, not until second class of the afternoon.” She said, taking one of the apple slices from his plate and popping it into her mouth, enjoying the crunch and bittersweet taste on her tongue. 

“Shall we meet in the library then?”

“You have two free periods?” She looked at him suspiciously; it was unlikely but not unheard of. 

“You think I’m skipping classes to spend time with you?” He raised an eyebrow quizzically. 

That’s exactly what she suspected, but she didn’t have the self-assurance to say it out loud and risk being wrong, so she shook her head. “No, just a question.” She took another slice of apple.

“You’re eating my breakfast.” He drawled, watching her lips as she placed the apple between them and bit down. Something flashed in his eyes, and then it was gone.

“Well, it goes to waste on your plate otherwise.” She gave a bold smile that made him blink momentarily before he returned her smile with a slight curl to the corner of his lip. This was the most she had gotten from him over the week, those slight twitches at the corner of his mouth. She had begun to make a game of it; how long would it take to make Draco Malfoy truly smile? And what would do it?

“So?” He asked her, breaking her train of thought.

“So…?”

“The library? Second study session?” He waited for her answer,

“Oh, of course, yes, that sounds fine.” She felt a slight drop in her stomach as he began packing his bag to leave for class.

“See you then.” He stood, hovering for a moment before he took a slice of apple off his plate, biting it in half as he gave her a slight wave and disappeared from the hall.

——————

“It’s just really weird, Hermione. What do you even talk about?” Ginny stood beside her in Herbology, not so gracefully re-potting a large dittany shrub. She needed her fingers in the soil before pulling out her wand and casting water from its tip, moving on as Hermione pruned at a few dead flowers and followed her.

“It’s not weird.” She argued, although she knew it was a little weird.

“He bullied you for years, had the dark mark branded on his arm, and watched as his aunt tortured you.” Ginny looked at Hermione from the corner of her eye and waited for a response.

Hermione bristled, “I’m fully aware of all that, but—“

“No buts, Hermione. I know you’re going to bring up his childhood and the stuff from his trial.” Ginny turned to face her as a vine of Devil’s Snare snaked out from under its covered trellis, trying to wrap its dark tentacles around Ginny’s ankle. “Does it really excuse everything he’s done? Is it worth risking your reputation? Your friendships?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes to slits, “My reputation should be one of kindness and being level headed.” She growled out, “And as for my friends, are you saying you would end our friendship because I saw a chance to forgive an abused man and took it?”

Ginny hung her head a little and sighed, “No, I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that I don’t picture a lot of Gryffindor’s welcoming Draco Malfoy up to the common room for drinks and reminiscing about the good old days.”

“Well, I’m not asking them to.” Hermione cast incendio too forcefully, and the Devil Snare retracted quickly, a little screech emanating from the plant.

“Miss Granger, please try not to damage the plants.” Professor Sprout called over to her, a disapproving look on her face. Hermione nodded and mumbled an apology.

“I’m just looking out for you. Harry and Ron are both really worried, and people are talking.” Ginny shrugged.

“Well, they needn’t be. I can take care of myself; all we do is discuss classes and the weather. I hardly think that’s cause for concern.” Hermione sprayed the trellis covering with a layer of water, pausing only as she heard Ginny mutter;

“There’s a lot of smiling for someone just discussing the weather.” Hermione shot her a look but said nothing as Professor Sprout announced the end of class, and the pair packed up their things and headed to the great hall for lunch.

——————

For the first time since Umbridge taught it, Defence Against the Dark Arts seemed to drag, and Hermione had to give Harry’s concerned glances several reassuring smiles when he caught her checking the clock on the wall. They worked together easily, and to her relief, he did not bring up Malfoy once. When Professor McMaster announced the end of the lesson, Hermione's chair scrapped loudly on the stone floor, and she hurriedly bid farewell to Harry before he could question her and dashed through the door, colliding in her haste with the hard chest of Malfoy, who had been waiting in the corridor beyond, presumably to walk with her to the library.

She rubbed her nose as she looked up at him, that twitch in the corner of his mouth as he studied her.

“In a hurry, Granger?” His tone jovial as he lifted a hand, wrapping fingers around the strap of her bag and pulling it from her shoulder and slinging it over his own casually, as if the gesture to carry her things for her was normal behavior for him.

“I…erm.” She wasn’t sure what to say, caught off guard by his presence as she heard the rest of the class feed out of the doors behind her, a few gasps as students spotted her and Malfoy, who stood close to one another. She took a half step backwards and shrugged.

“Sorry, lost in my thoughts, I suppose.” It wasn’t a lie; she had been lost in her thoughts, thoughts of him. “Shall we head to the library?” She changed the subject as her eyes caught sight of Ron, fists clenched and face almost purple with rage. Draco caught sight of him  as well and raised his eyebrows.

“That’s probably for the best.” He sounded almost amused by the attention they were getting. “I need to swing by the Slytherin common room first.”

“Oh, well, I can meet you back at the library if you want.” Hermione fidgeted from one foot to another, eying the bag on his shoulder.

“You can come with me; I won’t be long.” He turned towards the stairs that led down, away from the library and toward the dungeons. She hesitated, torn between the idea of the rumors that might circulate if she was caught entering the Slytherin common room and the desire to see inside it. Her interest won out as she walked up beside him, where he waited for her to decide.
And there it was: that first real smile.
It took her off guard, her feet catching on each other as she stumbled forward. He easily caught her, hand on her elbow as he corrected her. She hadn’t expected that smile to be quite that distracting- full pale pink lips and just a hint of pearly white teeth, it made her stomach clench and her heart quicken.

“Careful, Granger. If you fall down the stairs, everyone will say, I pushed you.” He didn’t remove his hand from her elbow, slender fingers gently holding her and her brain roved thoughts she didn’t know she had; what would his fingers feel like in other places, being the more prominent.

“Oi!” A shout from behind. She knew it was Ron, watching the whole thing from where he stood beside Harry and probably determining her trip as some kind of vicious attack. Hermione didn’t even turn to look at him. A quickening desperation in her chest, she didn’t want that smile to go away or the rest of their afternoon to be cast over by the dark shadow of Ron’s hostile attitude. So, without thinking, Hermione grabbed Malfoy’s hand in her own and pulled, taking the steps two at a time, him following her at a glide as she rushed them towards the dungeons. A smile now pulling at her lips.

——————————————

After another three weeks; breakfasts now began and ended with Malfoy. Lunches were taken in the library, a hidden stash of pumpkin pasties smuggled into their robes. He snuck her into the Slytherin common room during free periods; Crabbe and Goyles deaths and Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini being transferred to Durmstrang to finish their studies meant Malfoy had the dormitory to himself. Hermione would sit cross legged on the vacant fourposter bed that had belonged to Blaise and the pair would pass books back and forth, compare notes, but most of the time the room was just filled with the scratching of quills on parchment and the occasional rustle of a bag of every flavored beans. 

It was all so surprisingly easy and she had caught herself on numerous occasions starring at the man on the bed across from her, observing little quirks that had gone unnoticed over the seven years prior to this; The way he loosened his tie and flipped it over his shoulder as he wrote, he was left handed and she had never noticed that, the side of his palm was often coated in ink as it smudged his scribblings and he would have to tidy his essays with a charm when he was finished, just to make them readable again. He chewed his lower lip often as he read, scanning the same passages repeatedly until Hermione was sure he must have committed them to memory. When he found something particularly interesting, he would slide from his bed and make his way to her, the heat from his body permeating hers as he leaned in close, showing her a paragraph in a book or his notes on different alchemical formulations. 

He had a thirst for knowledge that matched her own and the way he scoured library shelves, pale fingers running across the spines of leather backed books, his body almost vibrating with interest as he piled those that intrigued him onto their desk; hidden away at the back, near a dusty old window that overlooked the great lake, it sent a spark of something down her spine she couldn’t quite put words to. This version of him was so endearing to her. Before the war, he had been a one-dimensional contemptuous being. Now, he had allowed her a small peek behind whatever veiled that exterior, and what lay beyond was a person she wanted to explore.

This determination to know him better fueled her to ask her next question. As she watched him scan the page of a transfiguration textbook, she steeled herself for his response.

“Why are we still spending time together?” She asked and then grimaced. It had not come out the way she intended. He looked up at her, brows drawn together and face stoic.

“Excuse me?” His tone was a little clipped as he leaned back in the chair, eyes narrowing; she could see him building a wall around himself, protecting whatever fragile self he shown her this last month.

“That came out wrong.” She clarified, but he didn’t relax. “I mean, I enjoy spending time with you.” She hesitated. “You aren’t the person I thought you were. I guess I was just wondering why you spend time with me?” 

His eyebrow cocked and gray eyes held her own, the silence drawing between them until he parted his lips before closing them and shrugging, returning to the page of the text book.

“You seemed to hate me so much….before.” She wasn’t about to let a shrug be his only answer.

“I did hate you.” He clarified, and she flinched.

“What’s changed?” she pushed, and he looked up again, a sneer on his lips now as he glanced around the library.

“Well, that’s a rather stupid question.” He drawled. This was getting uncomfortable, and Hermione was beginning to panic that her line of questioning would put a stop to a budding friendship she was enjoying so very much.

“I hardly think so. Something must have changed for you to want to spend this much time with a muggle-born witch, who you claimed to hate not seven months ago.” Her mind was telling her to stop, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t. She was constantly defending him to her friends now, and they looked at her like she was an imbecile, not an expression she was accustomed to.

“I don’t wish to have this conversation.” He said through gritted teeth, flipping his book shut and grabbing for his bag.

“Well, I do.” She said indignantly, standing from her chair and making her way around the table, snatching his bag from his hands and holding it at arms length away from him. He stood quickly, towering over her. She had to tilt her chin backward to keep eye contact.

“Leave it, Granger,” he snarled as he reached for the bag she held, his chest bumping her shoulder as she whipped the bag further from his reach.

“I will not.” She insisted.

“I am not a textbook for you to study or an ancient rune to interrupt. I was one thing, and now I am another. Are my actions insufficient for you to conclude that I have changed?” He was seething now, pushing back strands of blond hair roughly as he watched his bag, eager to get hold of it so he could leave.

“You have, but I want to know why this change came about.” She stepped away in case he intended to lurch forward for his belongings. 

He rolled his eyes and stepped around her, stalking down the shelves and abandoning his bag with her. She dropped it instantly and took off after him. “Don’t walk away from me, Draco,” she whispered loud enough for him to hear, acutely aware they were in the library and not wanting to draw unwanted attention.

He froze, and she nearly plowed into the back of him. He rounded on her, gray eyes sharp and bright as he took a step closer; he looked like a wild animal, all sharp angles and teeth bared. She backed away, suddenly remembering what he may be capable of. He closed the gap; with every step she took backward, he took another toward her, backing her into a dark corner as she drew away from him, cowering against the wall, bookshelves biting into her back. She could feel his breath against her face, almost taste the tart apples they had eaten together for breakfast on her tongue.

“Draco,” She whispered on a out breath, a pleading sound laced with fear.

His eyes fluttered shut, and he inhaled sharply before speaking, low and thick, “Say it again.”

She frowned before she stammered out the words he thought he wanted, “I want to know why this change—“

“Not that.” He shook his head, his hands rising to hover around her shoulders. He didn’t touch her, but his fingers moved, tracing the air around her arms as if to lay them upon her.

“Then what?”

“My name, say my name.” He croaked out.

“Draco.” It felt strange against her teeth; she hadn’t even realised she had used his first name. He let out a soft groan,

“Again.”

“Draco,” She sounded it out softly, and his hand flew upward, palm against her jaw and finger digging softly into her cheeks. he tilted her head upward to look at him directly.

“Seven months.” His voice was heavy, thick with something she didn’t recognise. “Have you ever gone seven months without someone calling you by your given name?” He asked her. She shook her head, the movement stopped by his grip on her face.

“Im sorry,” She whispered lifting both hands to wrap them around his wrist, gently trying to draw his hand from her face; his finger loosened, but instead of letting go of her completely his hand fell to her neck, palm spread across her collarbone as he brushed the pads of his finger tips against her pulse point; his eyes watched his movements, confusion on his face as silence descended. His face dropped lower to hers, only an inch away, but his eyes didn’t meet hers again as he tickled the skin of her throat. Their breathing heavy and synced.

The same feeling she had acted all those weeks ago in the Great Hall took over her, a spark of spontaneity and desire to prove something; to herself or others - she wasn’t sure, but that feeling had led her here and she was thankful for it, so she spoke the words her mind sang to her, trusting that feeling again.

“Draco?” 

He hummed in response, eyes closing at the sound of his name. “Are you going to kiss me?”

 They snapped back open, fear and longing morphing across his face as his gaze darted to each of her features before settling on her eyes, his hands moving from her throat to the nape of her neck, fingers entwining in her hair.

“Is that— is that what you want?” his voice hoarse as he moved slightly closer, his lips so close she could close the gap with just the faintest of movements. Is that what he wanted? It definitely seemed that way. But was it what she wanted? It certainly felt that way: the hammering of her heart in her ears, the fluttering low in her stomach, and a deep aching between her legs.

“Draco,” the shape of his name in her mouth brushed her lips ever so softly against his, “Kiss me.” She finished, and his mouth crashed into hers without even a pause for thought.

Her arms instinctively encircled his neck as he drew her up into him. His lips moved roughly against hers, furious and punishing as his tongue brushed its opening, demanding entrance. She opened for him, letting his tongue sweep into her mouth and claim her. He did, in fact, taste like apples, and she whimpered as she savored the feel of his tongue against hers. His hand gripped her hair, pulling her head backward and bearing her throat. Tearing his lips from hers, he moved them downward, pressing them against the sensitive skin below her ear, nipping and licking as he worked along her jaw until he returned them to her lips.

He moved his hand from her hair, grabbing her wrists and pulling, pinning them above her, one large hand encasing both of them. Her hips moved forward, thrusting against him as he slammed himself against her, grinding her against the bookcase. She hissed at the bite of shelves against her back, never breaking the kiss, the pain and pleasure of it all making her dizzy and alight with wanting. His free hand moved to her hip, his fingertips bruising her skin. He growled as she tried to roll her hips again, his thigh slipping between her legs to keep her still; it didn’t work. Instead, she ground herself against him harder, keening from the sensation of him between her legs. Her head a whirl of warring emotions and desperate need.

“Draco.” She let his name sing from her lips, and he moaned into her mouth. Dropping her wrists, he wrapped his arms beneath her buttocks and pulled her upwards, her legs wrapping around his waist. She was above him now, her hands on either side of his face, tracing the edges of his jaw and the hollows of his cheeks as she deepened the kiss, running her fingers up over his temples and into his hair, tugging at it gently. He moved them with a few quick strides until she was propped against the sloping stone alcove of a stained glass window. His hands free to roam her body now, traveling up her legs, fiddling with the hem of her skirt as he slowed the movement of his mouth, biting her bottom lip and pulling at it gently as he moved his hand higher, tickling the inside of her thigh. He hesitated as he reached the seam of her underwear, pulling his lips from hers, she whined at the loss his mouth, the taste of his tongue.

Those gray eyes burned into her again, that fear and longing overshadowed by an unspoken question, the ghost of his touch so close to a place that ached so intensely for him, she could have screamed at him to take what he wanted. She panted, unable to speak or give him the consent he needed to travel further. His eyes creased with worry as she parted her lips, closing them again when nothing but air passed them. She moved her hands from his hair and ran them along his arm, her skirt hitching higher as she reached the back of his hand, turning it palm up and guiding it forward until his fingers brushed the damp fabric of her underwear. 

It was the permission he needed and she let her hand fall as he nudged her underwear aside and slid his fingers along her, groaning as he felt how wet she was in this moment, body shaking as he introduced his thumb, finding her clit; he pressed gently before circling it, eliciting a whimper of pleasure from deep within her as she moved her hips and spread her knees, encouraging him deeper. She moaned, her head tilting backward against the glass as he repeated the motions, adding pressure that made her shudder with pleasure as he slipped a finger inside her, thumb continuing its torturous circles as his finger curled forward finding that spot inside her that made her hips buck, her hands reaching forward, gripping at the fabric of his shirt and the hard muscle of his chest beneath it. He added a second finger, his free hand moving to her lower back to move her closer to him, her legs around his hips again, her positioning pushing her clit against the palm of his hand as she fell forward, wrapping an arm around his neck in a tight embrace as she rode him, his face now buried in her hair. He trailed kisses along her ear and whispered soft words of encouragement as he moved his fingers within her, breathy growls escaping his lips as she ground herself against his hand and mewed satisfied yips and gasps into his neck. 

Her pleasure built faster as he curled his fingers more easily, her arousal coating his skin as he worked her, increasing the pace as she pulled herself ever closer to him, her climax in sight; whines and whimpers escaping her throat, as he bit down on the side of her neck and she tumbled over the edge of ecstasy, calling his name a little to loudly as she felt herself clench around his fingers, pulsing against him as he stroked her down from the heights of her orgasm, holding her limp body upright now as she nuzzled her face into his neck and breathed him in and he panted into her hair. Silent for a few blissful beats of their hearts.

“Hermione?” The voice was neither hers nor Draco’s, and she was suddenly alert as Draco removed his fingers from her, and she sat bolt upright. Her eyes met those of Neville Longbottom, who was barely keeping hold of the stack of Herbology books in his arms. His mouth was open and eyes wide with shock.

“Shit,” Draco grunted as he moved, pulling Hermione’s skirt down to cover her knees, helping her slide down the from the alcove, her legs wobbly as they barely held her upright.

“Neville, did you find what you were looking for?” Pavati Patil appeared, her eyes on Nevillie as he stared, gobsmacked at the scene he had just walked in on. Parvati followed his gaze, and her jaw dropped as she took in the sight before her: Hermione’s wild hair and pink cheeks, post orgasm glow. The pair’s swollen lips and Draco’s rumpled shirt, his hand placed firmly on Hermione’s lower back to steady her. “Oh my.” The words escaped the girl's lips as she came to her own, fairly accurate, conclusions. Her hand going to her mouth as she quickly spun on her heel and disappeared from sight.

Hermione groaned. This would be circulating the Castles Gossip tree before dinner, and she felt a pit of nerves open wide in her stomach as she stepped towards Neville, hand outstretched as she spoke, “Neville, I can explain.” Her first friend at Hogwarts just stepped away from her, shaking his head before he too departed. Leaving her and Draco alone again.

“Granger?” She flinched slightly at the insecurity in Draco’s voice, and she turned towards him. 

“I don’t regret it.” She spoke before he could; his eyebrows rose, and he gave her a quick nod.

“Want me to walk you to Potions?” He shuffled awkwardly, unsure if that was the right thing to offer after he had just given her such an intensely delicious and earth-shattering orgasm, in her recent memory.

She nodded. “I think we should—“

He cut her off quickly, “Cool it off for a while?” his eyes dropped to the ground, and she thought he looked a little sheepish.

“I was going to say we should request to be potion partners. Justin isn’t nearly as skilled with his hands as you are.” She gave him a teasing look despite the wave of nerves that threatened to overwhelm her, “But if you’d rather not, I understand.” She added, giving him the option to ‘Cool it off’ as he had so aptly put it. 

His eyes rose to meet hers, astonishment written across her face, and that smile was back as he nodded. He took her hand in his, and they wove through the library, passing by their desk to collect their things before making their way to the library doors. He dropped her hand, and she stopped, looking at him quizzically.

“Parvati will have told half the school by now.” She told him, looking back into the library; a few students were hunched over desks, too fixed on their work to notice them. “If we are going to do this, we might as well just dive in head first. If you would like?” 

He looked around and then down at her hand, “This?” he asked, and she felt herself blush.

“Be friends, I mean.” She backtracked slightly, self confidence draining.

“Do you often do that kind of thing in the library with friends?” He teased, crooked grin as her blush deepened. 

She rolled her eyes at him. “You’re making this awkward.” She said in her most scolding tone.

“I just think you need to know what you are walking into. Life as a pariah isn’t a happy one. Life as Draco Malfoy’s girlfriend would be worse.”

“Your girlfriend?” Her voice was high-pitched and startled as she repeated his words. Completely taken aback.

He shrugged. “What else would you call it?”

“I…I hadn’t considered it in the five minutes since-“ She didn’t finish the sentence, unsure how to word what they had just done politely.

“Well, I have.” He looked down at her, shrugging once more, “I don’t share, Granger; it’s not in my nature. And I don’t do things half heartedly. Take some time to think about it. We can return to our study sessions and breakfasts if you wish, but if you want me to do that-“ he gestured back into the rows of library shelves, “Again. Then you are mine, and I am yours.” He moved closer to her, letting his pinkie finger brush the back of her hand as he dipped his mouth to her ear, “And that was just the taste of whats to come.” The words almost made her moan, and she covered her lips with her fingertips to stop herself.

As he pulled away, he wore a predatory grin, and she felt her stomach flip-flop at the sight of it. She really should think this over and consider the consequences. Still, the pleasure he had wrought onto her, the way he ignited something inside her when he stood so close, even when he shared something from class or corrected parts of her assignments, it all made her heart stutter and her blood heat. The impending outing of their tryst this afternoon would already be circulating, and she knew that her friends would implore her to make, what they believed, to be the right decision, coerce her into thoughts she did not want to have. No, making this decision now would at least be on her terms, no little birds squawking in her ears, no pressure to choose between what she wanted and what her friends would withhold from her if she didn’t choose the path they deemed right. No, Hermione Granger had spent years putting her friendships first, the needs of others before her own. This time she would choose for herself, be damned the consequences.

It felt liberating to look up at Draco and know she was choosing herself, choosing him because that was what she truly wanted. They could only try, see what happened, if something like this would work. She wasn’t sure of his motivations still and it niggled at the back of her mind for a moment, but she was sure of her own. And so she nodded.

“Then I am yours, and you are mine.” She repeated his words back to him and he scanned her face carefully before nodding. Taking her hand in his. They walked through the doors of the library.