Sucker Love

Chapter 13 • Hermione






Chapter
13 • Hermione

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“We ain’t—we ain’t goin’—we ain’t—goin’ nowhere—we can’t
be stopped, no—cuz it’s bad boys for life—oh, oh, ooh,” I hummed—and
periodically filled in some lyrics with my talented vocal abilities—while
completing some homework. I really couldn’t concentrate on it because of the
deafening silence at first, so I turned on my CD player. Yes, I know, I know—Hogwarts:
A History totally said that we couldn’t bring any electronics in without
them malfunctioning, but the book never said anything about charming the
devices to work. I smirked—ha; loophole.

 

Unfortunately, I realized that another loophole was
needed; I couldn’t get homework done with the music on either. And this
was very unusual and truthfully unlikely. I normally had no problem completing
homework in a snap. It wasn’t the highlight of my day—despite populaelieelief—but it came easily to me. Just get it done and over with.

 

Today, however, my brain just wasn’t functioning properly.
I’d been sitting on my bed for a good hour now, trying to finish this foot-long
parchment and I doubted I even remember what class it was for. I looked at the
title. Ah, Ancient Runes: How to Decipher Cursive Athonian.

 

I scrunched my eyebrows. It was beyond me how one subject
could be so complicated though it didn’t have to be. Exhibit A—Athonian was a
language made up solely of symbols and pictures. How was it possible that some...moron
with too much free time on their hands converted the entire alphabet into
cursive script?

 

I looked at the essay one more time, then shook my head
and moved to look through my knapsack. I’d need to consult my notes. Bobbing mead ead to the music once more, I dragged myself across the bed over to my
knapsack’s location and picked out a parchment from one of the folders. It was
dark.

 

I held up the parchment in the light to see if it was the
damn Athonian translation when I noticed something weird about the doorway.
Ah—there was someone in it. Quickly abandoning my hopes of ever
finishing my essay, I squinted at the entrance to the Girls’ dorms in attempt
to identify the visitor. Didn’t look female.

 

“Puffy, huh?”

 

I raised an eyebrow and took a moment to process what the
guest had said in his casual
lean-against-the-door-frame-with-his-hands-in-his-pockets stance. Then I
chuckled.

 

“I think he goes by Diddy now—P. Diddy.”

 

Harry chuckled and progressed into the room even more
until he reached my bed and sat on the edge of it, grinning at me madly. He
didn’t say anything for a while, just stared giddily, so I was forced to roll
my eyes before reaching over to my dresser and turning the CD player off once I
located my wand.

 

“Don’t look at me like that,” I scolded, a small smile on
my lips with a tint of warning, “like you have something juicy on me because of
this.” I gladly pointed at my CD player loaded with P. Diddy when Harry looked
at me questioningly, his eyebrows raised. “After that time I caught you
listening to Mariah Carey full blast at the Burrow, I’d say you owe me your
life for not saying a word.”

 

The brunette Seeker’s face quickly colored a deep, rosy
color but his expression remained neutral with a hint of carelessness. What was
that, like, everyone’s favorite expression? Looking bored? I didn’t get it. But
that wasn’t all too surprising.

 

“I wouldn’t go that far...I mean, it wasn’t that
ba—”

 

“Your life,” I confirmed seriously. He merely shook
his head and rolled his eyes at me in a very pompous, ‘How am I bad at anything?’
way.

 

I gave Harry a look. I could put an end to this.

 

“Heartbreaker—got the best of me—but I just keep
on coming back incessantly—oh, whoa, whoa...” I bellowed at the top
of my lungs, clutching both of my hands desperately at my heart, very
realistically reenacting Harry’s ‘Rainbow’ experience. I took in a breath for
the next verse when he put his palm urninrningly, causing me to pause
momentarily and hear out his...alibi.

 

“Don’t—just...” he covered his face with one hand
and looked around nervously as if there was anyone else watching and he wanted
to make up for the show by looking ‘deeply ashamed’. There was nobody in the
girls’ dormitory. Poor guy was safe...unless he wanted to pull another ‘Star
Seeker doesn’t make mistakes’ piece of shit act with me. He took a deep
breath and looked me in the eye cautiously. “I’ll sign over my life to you
tomorrow—papers and everything.”

 

I grinned, slowly getting up to put away my books, quills
and parchments. It was pretty clear that I wasn’t going to finish any
homework tonight, what with all the diva reenactment solely for that best
friend of mine. Homework? Later—much later.

 

“I’ll be waiting for the legal documents to arrive,” I
answered chuckling, then raised an eyebrow hop hopped back on the bed next to
Harry. “And speaking of legal...How the hell’d you get in here? I mean,
anti-gender-communication stairway still in business, right?”

 

Harry adopted yet another look of, ‘But I’m far too
intelligent to be stopped by that.’

 

“But I’m far too intelligent to be stopped by that.”
He was serious. Oh, the irony.

 

“Really?” I asked, challenging him with a complimentary
eyebrow quirk. He nodded back confidently at me, so I ned ned and tucked my
chin into the palm of my right hand. “Done the Potions homework yet? Figured
out what nourishment Jill Suans need to lay eggs in February?” At his
unresponsive look, I took a step further. “Know what almora simpu riblin se
karpio means?”

 

Harry shook his head slowly, eyeing me carefully. “What’s
it mean?”

 

I smirked. “Loosely translated? ‘You’re full of shit’ in
Weigen.”

 

Harry grinned slightly, then rolled his eyes—probably at
my know-it-all succession. “Well, did you do all those things?”

 

I avoided his eyes and shrugged my shoulders loosely.
“No.” I could see the triumph in his eyes, so I added a little something to his
peace of mind. “But I was just trying to prove a point.” His grin loosened.
“Now, spill, law-breaker. How’d you get past the staircase?”

 

“Well...” Harry started, teasingly, his emerald eyes
twinkling at me, “I’ve found that compromises and wagers work the best with our
dear, old portrait keeper.”

 

I blinked. What exactly was The-Boy-Who-Lived getting at?
Did he—

 

“You bribed the Fat Lady?” I exclaimed, punching
him in the shoulder playfully. At his ‘yeah, I’m sly’ look, however, I adopted
an expression of a stern McGonagall. “How could you do—how could you think of
doing something like—like that? It could get her fired and—and in
trouble or worse!” I shook my head in disappointment as Harry hung his own head
in shame. “Well…tell me. Why did you do it?” I raised an eyebrow, quickly
morphing back into a truly amused expression. “And more importantly—how?”

 

Harry chuckled at my sudden change in heart and probably
put it down for one of those crazy things I do—change my moods unexpectedly.

 

“I’d like to know that myself,” he replied evenly,
“because it would prove to be extremely useful.” Stretching, the brunette
plopped down on my pillow, successfully taking up a good three quarters of the
already tiny twize. ze. “No, Fred and George taught me the counter-curse to the
staircase to keep it from making me land on my ass on the way down.”

 

I smirked. “And why did Fred and George know it?”

 

Harry returned my devious expression. “Now, that’s a
story for another day, my dear ‘Mione.”

 

Another day? Hell no! I wanted to know exactly why Fred
and George had an all-access pass to the girls’ dorms and I didn’t have one to
the boys’. Okay, so I was a devious one. It was fine by me.

 

“Well, actually—” I caught a glimpse of my alarm clock,
“I’ve got to get going.”

 

Harry’s eyebrows knitted in protest. “Going? Where are you
off to?”

 

I smiled the fakest smile I could muster. “To the happiest
place on Earth—Hell with cauldrons.”

 

“Ah, detention,” Harry acknowledged. “Well, if there’s no
way out of that—”

 

“None whatsoever,” I confirmed.

 

“—then I suppose I’ll be lng, ng, too. Don’t want to have
to explain to McGonagall how I got in the dorms as well.”

 

I waved, signaling that I was leaving, before I whirled
around as Harry called my name. He suddenly looked nervous.

 

“’Mione…I wanted to see if you…” He paused, fidgeting a
bit with his cloak. “I just wanted to know if you and I could…I was wondering
if you wanted…”

 

“Yeah?” I asked, checking my watch unconsciously.

 

Then, as quickly as it came, his nervousness was replaced
by a look of serene calm and mischief—the Potter Seeker look which he always
preferred to wear.

 

“Never mind…You go on. We’ll talk later.”

 

“You sure?” I questioned, worried that it might have been
something important. After all, Harry didn’t have to get nervous talking to me—Hermione.
Best friend.

 

“Yeah, no biggie.” Harry waved as I exited after him and
down the stairs before adding, “Oh, yeah—any death threats issued in your direction
by anyone, you know whom to call.”

 

At that notion, I had to whirl around and give
Harry my best ‘Are you kidding me?’ look.

 

“What? Call Ron,” Harry replied as if that’s what he’d
implied all along. “Ron would love to give Snape or Malfoy a—” he paused
to mime air quotes “—‘beat down’. You do know that’s who I was talking
about, right?”

 

“Goodbye, Harry.”

 

“No, really. That’s who I meant all along!”

 

 

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

 

 

The room was dark—which wasn’t all too surprising since it
was located in the dungeons—but it was scheduled to host two very bored
and melodramatic teenagers within it all the while practicing a form of torture
commonly known as detention. Basically ‘Heh?’ summed it up.

 

I quickly approached the door after looking through the
window inside the classroom and knocked.

 

“Hello?” Silence. I nodded. Okay, this wasn’t too bad. I’d
decided that if no one showed within a ten-minute span, I was officially off
the hook. Who was there to blame? Not me, obviously. I wasn’t about to go into
the Potions class and choose a chore to perform if there was no one
there to dictate what to do. I could just leave.

 

I waited; six more minutes. Six and half, actually.

 

“Anyone there?” I inquired again, raising my voice as I
stuck my head inside the classroom. I wondered briefly if the Pale and Haughty
one was hiding from me or something, then smirked and shook my head. That was
simply ridiculous. I was the one hiding from him this time—not
the other way around.

 

Running a hand through my—unfortunately static-attractive—hair
I sighed as I opted to sit at one of the corner chairs by the door on the off
chance that Professor Snape would abruptly come gallivanting in with his black,
swishy cloak flaring menacingly behind him. I briefly wondered why I sat
close to the door if that’s what my scenario consisted of. Probably for
a more rapid escape route.

 

A sudden rustling brought me out of my deep thoughts. I
heard some shifting or something—a clunking, perhaps, which indicated that I wasn’t
the only bored and silent soul in the room. I stood up and walked over
towards the front of the classroom where I’d heard the noise; perhaps it was
Professor Snape and he didn’t hear me.

 

“Professor Snape?”

 

There was still no answer. I sighed; I could’ve sworn I
heard a chair squeak or…something…anything. I wasn’t crazy—there
was someone there. Quickly looking about Professor Snape’s desk—which couldn’t
have been more bland and undecorated—I glanced up and noticed another door.
Well…ideas of the most genius proportions formed in my head: perhaps someone
was through the door in the other room. Oh, yeah; I knew there was a
reason why I understood Arithmancy and was close to the top of my class. A
small smile came to my lips at my sarcasm and it oddly reminded me of Draco and
his mocking, amusing. I meant…I meant Malfoy.

 

A light also caught my eye and tore me out of my
freakishly off-topic thoughts. So off-topic.

 

I knocked.

 

“Professor—”

 

I heard a shuffling and footsteps approach the door, then
noticed the knob turning. Before I knew what was happening, I was graced with a
very…unwelcoming voice.

 

“Christ, woman. He didn’t answer your fortieth desperate
plea.” There was a pause. “Snape’s not here, bright brilliance.” I
looked up into an annoyed face. “And to all a good night.”

 

He moved to close the door in my face—rude bastard—but I
propped my foot in the doorway, and taking advantage of his pause, stepped
inside.

 

Looking around, I recognized another desk—much like the
one Snape occupies during classtime—and another bookshelf and a timid lantern.
It wasn’t all deathly and doomed like I’d expected Snape to apply his décor. It
was…almost ordinary. Snape…ordinary. I shook my head—yeah. In his bloody
dreams.

 

Noticing the thick carpet, I ran the right sole of my foot
against, testing out the texture and decided that it was good quality, and my
favorite style—plushy and furry. So Snape did have some sort of taste
after all.

 

Giving the room a once over again, I nodded in approval.

 

“So…Snape has an office.” It wasn’t a question; more of an
amusing observation. Malfoy, however, found it to be unworthy of his
ears…or something. Either way, he turned up his nose like the ass he
was. Okay—bad body part comparison, but it worked for me at the time.

 

“Yeah—go figure. Professors have offices which contain
assignments and books. Ooh.” His eyes widened at the last word before returning
to their old steel-grayish blue, which matched his facial expression. Oh, the
irony.

 

I sighed and ran my fingers along the wooden surface of
Snape’s desk. I didn’t want to bicker with Draco. God, didn’t know I’d
ever say that but now I was admitting it. It wasn’t like I couldn’t best
him—we’d probably argue solely about that for hours—but my feelings
about him were mixed, and I didn’t want to suddenly get into an emotion yet
metaphoric conversation with him. I read novels—that was where ‘passionate’
arguments lead. Exhibit A: Essence of Firefly incident. Not good.

 

Draco didn’t move. He kind of watched me from the corner
of the room, by the door. I suppose the fact that I hadn’t answered his retort
with something witty threw him off, but that worked for me. He couldn’t be on
top of everything all the time—I’d made my annoyance of that clear earlier on.
He just couldn’t be king of the world; people weren’t like that. They
made mistakes and showed human emotions. Perhaps for Draco the emotion was yet
to be unfrozen.

 

“Why didn’t answer me if you heard me calling for Snape forty
times?” I asked after a while, noticing Snape’s cluttered desk which
appeared to have been Draco’s current work space. I saw red ink and stacks of
parchment. He’d been grading essays without me; he’d been back here all along.

 

“Next step after answering to Snape’s name is leaving in
conditioner too long in my hair,” he replied swiftly, with a faint smirk playing
on his lips, “and I’m not ready to part with one of my most brilliant features
yet.”

 

I rolled my eyes. Damn, did his ego ever miss a
word?

 

“Then I’m guessing the size of your inflated head isn’t
going anywhere for sometime,” I replied laughingly, eyeing his blue orbs
pointedly. “That appears another one of your valued features.”

 

He smiled in my direction, a touché expression evident on his face, then crossed
over beside me and took his respectable seat behind the desk, effectively
separating us with three stacks of essays.

 

ng ang a quill, he dabbed it in red ink and began marking
off wrong words, ingredients, and misspelled words, glancing at an
official-looking parchment every now and then. I simply looked at him; didn’t
moo heo help or anything.

 

He looked so funny, sitting in Snape’s chair, grading
papers while exercising his ‘serious’ face. It was like some weird dream where
I’d have to refer to Draco as Professor and he’d be the one taking a
ludicrous amount of points from Gryffindor while favoring Slytherin as much as
he could.

 

My brow wrinkled. Of course, that was too Snape. I was too
biased of a thinker. Looking at the situation more clearly, I thought perhaDracDraco would treat all of his students equally had he ever been a professor. Now
that I thought about it, it made sense—strangely. He actually didn’t seem like
the type—anymore, at least—to favor someone because of their house. It
was like…he was above the concept or something.

 

I shrugged; that was something. Something that had changed
in him for the better since I’d been gone. I supposed that even though I’d been
right about the lack of apocalypse at Hogwarts Sixth Year—I checked with
Professor McGonagall—maybe smaller but more significant things had changed.
More significant…people.

 

As my thoughts lost that foggy quality which I usually
recognized in dreams, I came face to face with Draco’s prying eyes. His face
looked smooth and flawless as the lantern light played softly across his face,
the flame warm and inviting as it drew invisible patterns on his cheek. I
wanted to…

 

I blinked. I wanted to find out whaaco aco was saying. To
me, he was simply mouthing something and looking at me questioningly as I
drifted off into space. I shook out of my delirious state and raised a
questioning eyebrow.

 

“Huh—what?”

 

Draco rolled his eyes at me, annoyed, and I retaliated in
the same manner, only more exaggerated. I couldn’t blame him for being
impatient, but he didn’t have to be so asshole-ish about it.

 

“If you’re able to comprehend simple questions now,
I was asking why you were just standing there,” he finally elaborated,
motioning with a free hand towards my immobile state in front of the desk.
“Help—you’re in detention, too.”

 

Eyeing him carefully, I decided to just nod slightly at
his outstretched hand pick up an essay off a pile near me. I didn’t what was
up with his mood tonight, but it was probably something I wasn’t involved in,
nor interested in knowing about. His pissy manner could just stay there—with him.

 

“Okay,” I acknowledged, staring down at the paper. It was
a bunch of scribbles. I sighed; this is why our professors stressed the
importance of neat handwriting. How the hell was I supposed to fairly
and sufficiently grade an essay that I couldn’t even read? “So…is
there, like, an answer key or something?”

 

I looked up to see Draco calmly marking off some more
points, or words, without so much as a twitch of the nose in acknowledgement
that he’d heard. Bastard—what was his problem?

 

“Hello? Your highness, will you please answer me,
damn it?”

 

Draco looked up, an irritated glint in hiy eyy eyes.
Pursing his lips, he simply held up the paper he’d been periodically glancing
up and returned his eyes to looking over his essay at hand.

 

“Guidelines,” he explained shortly, then brought it into
his line of vision and scribbled out some more sentences on the already marked
up essay. And that was all he said.

 

I couldn’t take it. It was like he wasn’t even willing to cooperate;
like he was on his goddamn period or something—moody as hell. I was aware
how hypocritical I must’ve sounded, even in my own mind, considering that I
screamed the hell out of Draco himself when he suggested that I was moody
because of my period, but this was different. He was just being a bastard for
no reason. Not even smirking—just being…annoying…and mean.

 

“Okay, that’s it,”
I announced, pushing the sleeves of my robe up to my elbows, then
leaning over the desk with my hands used as support on the edge. I stared into
Draco’s eyes as I leaned over and pursed my lips. “What the fuck is
wrong with you?”

 

Acknowledging my accusation, Draco looked at me
strangely—almost wanting to smile and say, ‘Hey, you swore!’—but decided it and
just shook his head patronizingly. Like I was supposed to know what
was wrong and I was being some sort of idiot for asking.

 

“Nothing.”

 

That was all I got. Nothing. I couldn’t work like
this.

 

Staring at Draco’s bowed head for an extra beat, I
narrowed my eyes at him then shook my head and pushed off the desk, my sleeves
tumbling down my arms down to their appropriate length. I folded my arms out of
anger and began pacing in front of the desk.

 

What was his deal? I hadn’t done anything—I just got here.
And his ‘nothing’ seemed more of a
‘you should’ve damn well already known was it was before asking’.
I sighed and looked at his bowed head, hunched over that poor, failing essay. Men.

 

“Tell me—come on, Malfoy. Tell me what the hell is
up your ass today so that we can get past it and I can serve my detention in
peace,” I almost pleaded, getting his attention with the sharpness of my voice.
“I wouldn’t even bother with this, but…” I looked away, avoiding his
eyes, “there’s only one copy of the guidelines and I don’t…you know…want to
give someone an undeserving grade because I didn’t completely know what they
were supposed to put in the essay due to—”

 

“Okay,” he stressed, finally stopping my rant and
immediately handing me the guideline parchment. “Here. Enjoy.” He continued
scribbling on the essay even though he wasn’t looking at the requirements. I
frowned—it better have not been like the Body Recoil revenge plan where I ended
rewriting my essay over for nothing.

 

I snatched the guidelines forcefully, but kept grimacing
at the situation. This was so… I couldn’t even choose the word.
Draco—Malfoy—is—insufferable. There, that made more sense.

 

“What is wrong?” I asked, my voice finally reaching
a pleading point. “Come on,” I demanded, pounding a fist lightly on the desk,
causing him to look up for the fiftieth time. “Seriously, Draco, what is
up?”

 

He was about to look down again, continuing his ‘ignoring
Granger’ act, when he noticed something in what I’d said. Replaying the words
in my head, I realized that I’d called him Draco. That was probably what caused
him not to blow me off…again.

 

“I should be asking you that same question,” he finally
revealed irritably, dropping his quill in the middle of the essay he’d been
correcting and staring at me in a demanding way. The ink splattered all over
the words. “You’ve—you’ve been a complete bitch to me for the past two
days, ignoring me as if I’d done something wrong, then you come prancing in
here like some holier-than-thou queen or something and asking me what
the fuck is wrong.” He exhaled, surprised that he was even holding his breath
but his flamy, fired-up eyes were focused on me and I felt like I was in the
spotlight, being told off and expected to perform at the same time. “What the
fuck is wrong with you, honey?”

 

Suddenly, I felt the urge to…perform—to answer back. I
mean, I was sure as hell unnerved by his revelation but that only fueled me to
reply. I had good reason to do what I was doing—what I did. And why did he care
if I ignored him anyway? It wasn’t like he was looking to pursue a
relationship with me or anything. Damn.

 

“As a matter of fact, nothing is wrong with me, baby,”
I spat back, shaking my head at the accusation thrown at me. “First of all, I
was not a bitch to you; we barely even talk at all. How could you even
tell that I was ignoring you? Second of all, you had done something
wrong and it would have been appropriate for me to ignore you, though I hadn’t
. Well, not you per se, but it was wrong. Something wrong happened; not right
and…and that’s that.” I crossed my arms over my chest and exhaled
slowly, looking up at the stony ceiling, aware that Draco’s eyes were still
burning holes through me, urging me to continue or give him a sign that it was
the end of my speech. To give him answers…that I didn’t have. “And I didn’t…prance
in here. Bastard.”

 

The last word I said with a small smile and eased the
tension a bit in the room, gaining a familiar twinkle in Draco’s eye, which I
had learned to mean humor and happiness. At least a little bit of both.

 

A long silence ensued. I continued to stare in Draco’s
direction, somewhere along the wall behind him and Draco’s eyes were still
focused on me—point blank.

 

I didn’t know why he hadn’t responded yet, but I knew that
I couldn’t have elaborated more than I did. I knew that I had lied; I did ignore
him for the past two days, but I’d also spoken the truth. What had happened
wasn’t right. I was upset. And he was there—and we kissed.

 

Of course, I didn’t always impulsively kiss random
bystander on my bad days when things were falling apart, but Draco was
different. I mean, it wasn’t like we didn’t almost-kisses or anything. And I
wasn’t the old Hermione anymore; I figured ‘the hell with it all’ and went for
it.

 

Well, that was all gravy until my conscience smirked at me
before imploding, yelling, ‘What the fuck did you just do? What have you
started?’

 

Far be it for me to pretend like I didn’t enjoy the s, bs, but that was beside the point. No matter how amazing it had felt, it was
just ‘the moment’. I didn’t dare try and pretend that it would’ve felt that
great with anyone else, but it wasn’t anything that was meant to be.

 

Besides…I wasn’t about to hook up with Hogwarts’ newest
Playboy. He hadn’t appeared to have used any lines on me or anything, but Ginny
wasn’t a liar. And…in her letter, things were pretty clear: black and
white—right and wrong. And Draco…well, he was definitely the wrong.

 

“So, you really think it was wrong?” he finally broke he
silence, and my eyes automatically jumped to his softly illuminated features.
He wore a mask of cool indifference but I could tell that was all it was. I didn’t
why he cared and why he didn’t just dropbut but my thinking that our
kiss was wrong seemed to bother him. And I didn’t know…why.

 

“I…” I trailed off. What could I have told him? Yeah,
it was wrong. No, I don’t kiss people randomly. Yes, it made it a difference
that it was with you. No, it can’t happen again. Yeah, it waod; od; shut up.
That was all I could offer him. I just didn’t know where to go from
here. I knew that I couldn’t give into my lust and change my mind. I couldn’t
tell him that, yes, it was right and grab his head to touch his soft
lips once more. I couldn’t explain that it had felt unlike anything else I’d
experience. Not that he should get a big head about that—I hadn’t been
around that many blocks—but it still felt special; different. I couldn’t
fall for him blindly like some weak little schoolgirl. “I…don’t think it
should’ve happened. I mean, really, Draco…do you?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Don’t you have your reputation? Isn’t a Malfoy kissing a Mudblood like the
juiciest piece of news anyone could ever get a hold of? I mean…why do you
care?”

 

The look on his face really caused my thoughts to reel and
reevaluate exactly whom I was conversing with. That last phrase transformed his
expression from neutral, to hurt, then back to neutral in an instant.
The hurt was just there for a tenth of a second…but I caught it. And why was
it there? It didn’t matter to him. He wasn’t upset that I voiced
what we were both aware of—he didn’t care if I ignored him because of
our kiss. And if he did care…why?

 

He opened his mouth to say something then momentarily
closed it. Closing his eyes briefly, he looked like he’d reevaluated everything
he’d ever thought in his entire life, scanning the contents of his precious
existence, then opened his eyes to reveal
a sea of blue and everything was back to normal. Kind of.

 

“You think you’ve got everything figured out, don’t you,
Mya?” His eyes searched mine out with amusement, thoughts, ideas, and feelings
heavily veiled within them. But one thing was clear—he was trying to get a
point across. And prove me wrong. “Think that you’ve got me all figured
out, huh?”

 

He suddenly pushed his chair back and stood up, advancing
towards me, his posture perfect and swagger poised. He approached me, looking
me square in the eye and reaching forward ever so slowly to tuck a strand of
hair behind me ear as he examined whatever the hell it was, I was thinking in
my eyes. I couldn’t have recalled as I accidentally got lost in the sea of blue
that I’d secretly promised to never look deeply into again.

 

“Sometimes…the world isn’t right and wrong, Hermione,” he
finally uttered, just above a whisper, his eyes never leaving mine. I looked at
him as if I worshipped the words he’d spoken. “It’s gray…and beige and teal and
everything you try to identify but fail miserably and settle for the only
explanation people give you: right or wrong.” I inhaled. “But it’s not. It’s
neither. And mostly…it’s here…and it’s now…and it feels good…and it makes you
feel.” His thumb trailed along my
cheek, and I unconsciously tilted my face into the palm of his hand. “And it
sure as hell isn’t right…and it’s not wrong. It’s there…and it’s now.”

 

He leaned in, so slowly that I though forever passed and
we were still stuck in detention after everything around us fell to the ground,
corrupted and experienced rebirth, all while he kept leaning in, his eyes
impaled upon me and mine unconsciously drifting closed.

 

And when his amazing lips met mine, I couldn’t help but
lean into it as forcefully as he did into me. It was amazing; unbelievably
tender, yet demanding and possessive. And why he’d want to possess me,
I’d never know but for there and now, I wrapped rms rms around
his neck and pulled him closer to me.

 

I felt like we were in a still frame. Our lips were moving
against each other, as if synchronized—fully aware of where and how to react to
one another, but the still frame enveloped us both and captured what neither
had ever thought to have. My problems melted away, my thoughts numbed and my
responsibilities shoved out the damned window as I battled Draco’s amazing lips
softly, humbly, forcefully, desperately.

 

My mind didn’t register when we finally broke apart
because my eyes were still closed and the still frame was present in my
thoughts. Maybe it really wasn’t all that spectacular, all that magical, all
that unbelievable and meaningful…but it sure as hell was in my head.

 

By the time I opened my eyes, Draco’s serious stare into
the depths of my soul had returned as if we’d never kissed and I knew that if
hadn’t a choice and we were stuck like this forever, just looking at each
other…it wouldn’t be so bad.

 

“That was beautiful…poetic, even,” I commented softly when
I found my voice, at last. Draco’s eyes danced, perhaps at the sound of
my compliment, and I felt compelled to smile in honor of making Draco Malfoy’s
eyes dance all by myself. Then, quickly licking my lips and applying a smirk
upon my face, I looked up in the eyes of the man that captured me unexpectedly
with his genuine words and unbelievable passion. “And you know I’d kill
your ass very painfully if that was just a line.”

 

Draco’s hearty laugh filled the room and my ears, his
audible amusement invading my senses and I had to chuckle along with him. It
was one of the few times I’d seen his well-practiced grins reach his marine
blue eyes, engulfed in enjoyment and acknowledgement of feelings besides
superiority and pride. It was like I was witnessing those four-in-a-lifetime
opportunities, where it’s evident that Draco had laughed before…but not so
much that this wasn’t an unusual occurrence. I felt special; privileged to
bring that out of him—to make him happy. If only for a minute.

 

Then, I frowned as I realized how stupid that sounded.
God, I sounded like some love-sick puppy. And I couldn’t help it.

 

“Well, we both know how much I value my ass,” Draco
finally said after he stopped laughing, the grin still apparent on his
beautiful—I meant handsome to preserve his male pride—face. “I’d never
put it at risk.”

 

I quirked an eyebrow.

 

“Values ass greatly,” I said in a serious voice, chancing
a look at the now-famous rear end of Mr. Malfoy. “Noted.”

 

“You know it,” Draco retorted, chuckling a bit before
cupping my face in his right hand once more.

 

Slowly, our lips touched and a brief, yet still astounding
kiss, my mind not wanting to order the rest of body to lean away from Draco. It
was like a natural reaction; chemistry, I supposed, it was.

 

“You won’t regret this,” he finally whispered, totally
serious, no trace of his previous grin on his lips. He held my gaze. And as he
dropped his hand from my cheek, he still held my gaze looking for approval to
his statement.

 

For the first time in the last drastic ten minutes of my
life, In’t n’t feel swept away in something Draco had said. ‘You won’t regret
this.’ Regret what? Exactly what was it we had? Now, I definitely couldn’t
deny that I didn’t feel anything towards him…And I couldn’t blame the kiss on
anything anymore…except for Draco. God, it got so complicated, so fast, and I witnessed
it all happening. I just got swept away in the feeling of it, the
incredible warmth of Draco’s lips upon mine that I didn’t realize there was
suddenly a ‘this’ between. Draco would now refer to it as a ‘this’
and in my mind would stick at ‘this’ with Draco.

 

And what was
‘this’? It felt impossible to answer. A couple of kisses and a foggy
explanation for something that probably should’ve never happened? A reason to
distance my best friends even more so than they are now? A joke to Draco and a
complicated mess of problems for me?

 

I just didn’t know. And it wasn’t like it was
suddenly bad and horrible. Standing in front of the desk in—Christ—Snape’s office
still felt right. And was it right? Was it just about there and now
like Draco had put it?

 

Still waiting for a response, Draco stared deeply into my
eyes, completely lost in his own world; maybe thinking of the exact same thing
I was, maybe the exact opposite. But I couldn’t disappoint him. It was probably
more along the lines of I couldn’t disappoint myself. I knew that in the long
run, ‘this’ would probably cause more problem than it solved, but I had
made up my mind. For once, I’d give in for then and now.

 

I nodded.

 

It was like approval. It was acceptance of something—of
what just happened. So that the next day in Potions, I wouldn’t ignore Draco.
So that in Arithmancy, if he—for some reason—switched seats to sit next to me,
I wouldn’t pretend like I cared if he broke the rules and get angry with him
for it. So that if he saw me in the halls, and secretly smirked—I’d know it was
for me…and I’d smirk back.

 

I didn’t why he’d want this. There was the little
fact that he was a Malfoy and detested Mudbloods, but he hadn’t
said anything and skirted the question when I’d addressed him with this issue.
Maybe he’d changed and it didn’t matter to him. Maybe…just maybe he was that
significant person that’s changed instead of the annual Hogwarts apocalypse.
Maybe…this was happening for a reason.

 

“Now…don’t we have detention or something?”

 

We both laughed and I forgot which one of us said it. It
was all a blur. Me and Draco—kissed. Again. Realization built themselves
in my mind one on top of the other, trying to get to recognize them first, but
I ignored it all and focused my mind on grading essays and laughing and trading
pitiful insults with Draco and being on the receiving end of his penetrating
eyes.

 

He’d handed me the guidelines for the essay and I’d graded
a few.

 

By the time I was done with five, he was still
grading that one he had been working on when I found him in the back room. It
was revealed that somehow Ron’s essay popped out at Draco and he
just couldn’t disgrace Snape by skirting some Gryffindor’s essay just
because he didn’t like him; he had to do his job.

 

Humorously pointing out that Ron would be furious when he
realized that all those red markings were just the reflection of Draco’s
feelings for him, the blonde male handed me the essay and pointed out that
those were all actual mistakes.

 

I laughed. He raised an eyebrow and asked why I had
even bothered to act surprised. And I answered because he was my friend. And he
sarcastically asked why I had even bothered befriending such an
idiot. And I laughed harder.

 

Finally, truly enjoying myself since my parents’ divorce,
the knowledge of my mother’s heart condition, my father’s secretary, my
friends’ unquenching curiosity, and my not becoming Head Girl, I realized that
maybe ‘this’ wasn’t anything to fear.

 

Maybe the gray area was to embrace.