Claiming Hermione

Hermione trailed one slender finger down the cold glass of the window in the common room. Harry, Ginny and Ron had practice and Lavender went to watch armed with a mediocre impervious charm that might keep her dry for all of fifteen minutes.

Hermione squinted and her refocused her vision, blurring the Quidditch pitch and bringing the clear grey splatters and streaks into sharp relief. Her head was starting to hurt. Arithmancy was getting to her. She couldn’t seem to focus on it long enough to grasp the new theorem, much less apply it to the current assignment. She refocused her eyes again, trying to pick out the different players by the way they flew.

Ron stayed in a tightly defined area but flew erratically within it. Ginny was a rocket, streamlined and exuding power. Demelza flew in swooping arcs that made Hermione’s stomach turn. She could pick out Dean simply because of his darker skin, despite the distance. The two beaters alternated between looking like mirror images of each other, and looking completely opposite of each other – complementary. And Harry, who looked like he was having a grand time, Harry’s flying was without description. No one flew like Harry.

It was Monday evening, just after dinner, and Hermione was both anxious and exhausted. Her inability to concentrate, and her determination to do just that, was wearing her down. Classes had been rough. Even the professors were more morose and edgy than usual thanks to the interminable rain. Being stuck inside was one thing, but being stuck inside with everyone else was another thing entirely.

The Quidditch players were the only people who ventured out into the downpour and when they came back, they were all bedraggled and sullen. Well, maybe all except Harry. And maybe Malfoy.

He would show up soon. Hermione was expecting him, and that bothered her, but she put it out of her mind in favor or contemplating their last conversation. Their first conversation. The firewhiskey fiasco couldn’t be counted in Hermione’s mind, since it was aided heavily by alcohol.

Hermione focused on the wet pane of glass and the background slipped into a fuzzy mash of grayed colors, reflected in each fat raindrop like little upside down worlds. Like her world.

The more she thought about Malfoy, the more upside down her world became. He was nothing like she expected. There had been a marked change in him in fifth year, but even without the word ‘mudblood’ spewing out, the animosity still radiated off him. It just moved underground, which in many ways, was worse. It was easier when she knew what he was thinking – he had always been so eager to tell her – and she could throw it back in his face. But with the silent treatment, she had to imagine what he was thinking. And she had a great imagination.

And now… Since that strange day in the forest he was even more changed. Quieter, more intent. He was working towards something and Hermione wondered what.

She found herself reevaluating everything she had thought about Malfoy. It was clear now that he was not evil, as she’d once thought. No, she didn’t think he was going to run out and challenge Voldemort to a fight, but she’d drop out of Hogwarts before he joined the Death Eaters. Had that been one of the changes in him, or had it always been that way?

Hermione shook her head in physical agreement with her thoughts, and then leaned her hot forehead on the glass and closed her eyes. Ahhh, that’s nice…

The soft thunk of the door announced Malfoy’s entrance, followed by the heavier thunk of his book bag on the floor by the chair, and then the rustle of robes being removed.

“Not thinking of jumping, are you Granger?” came his low amused voice. With her forehead still pressed against the window, she smiled to herself before turning around to face the blonde, silver-eyed man who had set up shop in her mind.

“Would you save me I did Malfoy?” she returned with a cheeky grin.

Draco raised a brow and the corner of his mouth tugged to the side. He liked this smart-mouthed version of her. It was much better than the scowls and cutting assessment of his character. “I think I’ve proven myself in that scenario already, don’t you think?”

She sighed, “Yes, I suppose you have. My hero!” she flapped her small hand to heart. Draco narrowed his eyes at her disapprovingly and then bent to extract his homework.

Hermione moved back to the couch and tugged her book heavily onto her lap. She cradled her temples between her fingers and rubbed in small circles.

“I just don’t get this!” She said tiredly.

“What? The bookworm is flummoxed by a teensy little theorem? Let me mark my calendar!” he teased, standing over her, looking at the page she was turned to.

“Shut up, Malfoy.” She said, craning her neck to look at him. “You are every bit as much of a bookworm as I am, Malfoy, and I’ve seen it with my own eyes, so don’t bother denying it.”

“Shush Granger, you don’t want to blow my cover now do you?”

“Your cover? I wouldn’t worry, Malfoy, everyone already knows you’re a wanker.”

“Language, Granger! Language!”

She turned big, wide, innocent amber eyes on him, “But, Malfoy…I thought you wanted me to use my new language skills?” Her lips twitched trying to maintain her pseudo-earnestness.

“So I do, Granger. So I do.” He said more to himself than her and an odd moment stretched out between them. Draco tried to cover the awkwardness and threw his book at the other end of the couch before sitting next to her and pulling her book from her lap.

“Okay, did you understand this first part?” he pointed at the top of the page…

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Draco handed the book back to Hermione and bent over to remove his boots while he explained the theorem. He had to try three different approaches, but he was pretty sure that by the end, she got it. It was refreshing to see the know-it-all who had beat him in every subject forever struggle with a concept that he had easily understood. It made him think that maybe he wasn’t entirely second best to her. He watched her begin to work the problem they had been assigned and, seeing she was off to good start, twisted to grab his Advanced Transfigurations book and scooted into the opposite corner of the couch.

Two hours later they had each switched to different assignments, and different books, and sat facing each other, knees up and feet pointed at the other, deep in concentration on their respective subjects.

Hermione bent to grab her Potions book and her right, stocking-foot slipped, nudging against Malfoy’s for a moment only, before she pulled it back so quickly you’d think she’d been burned. Draco looked up at her and her blush was evident.

“Sorry.” She said hastily, keeping her eyes cast down on her book.

Draco’s eyes were trained on her pinkened face, “Afraid you might get pureblood germs Granger?” he said, referencing her teasing when he drank out of the same firewhiskey bottle as her.

Her eyes shot up to his, relief written on her face. Despite their banter earlier, she still felt sort of nervous around him. Like at any moment he was going to turn on her. “Hardly.”

Draco’s mouth pursed and before she knew what was happening, he clamped one foot over the top of hers and dug the toes of the other underneath her foot and wiggled them. She shrieked in surprise and tried to tug her foot out, wriggling her whole body in the effort.

“Malfoy!” She yelled and finally freed her foot. She quickly tucked her feet under her cross legged so they were inaccessible, pouting at him. Draco laughed at her expression, and then kept laughing until Hermione gave him a reluctant smile.

“Serves you right Granger, trying to play footsie with me.” She whipped the small pillow out from behind her so fast he didn’t have to time to move and it caught him in the side of the head while he continued to laugh.

“Serves you right, Malfoy!” She said smugly and turned back to her book still smiling and trying to look collected.

After a few minutes, Hermione resituated herself, returning to her previous position of bent knees, though her legs were drawn in a bit closer to her body. Her heart was beating hard against her chest and she felt extremely aware of him. His mass on the couch, his clean and warm smell, the quicker rate at which he was breathing, his bright laugh. The small amount of space between their facing feet tingled on her toes as if the air was electrified. Hermione swallowed thickly and reread the sentence for the sixth time.

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Harry Potter, the coming war, Quidditch, NEWTS, Malfoy Manor, and his upcoming exam in Advanced Charms were thoughts that occupied Malfoy’s mind. What was not on his mind was Granger. He didn’t debate each night whether or not he should go to the HCR. He didn’t question his motivation. He didn’t wonder what his friends would think. He just went. He didn’t consider the sensation of sitting next to her on a 6-foot long couch for hours each night. He didn’t ponder the alluring subtle mix of scents that surrounded her. And he definitely was not thinking about his opinion about her.

Examining his ideas of the diminutive head girl with wild hair was not on Draco’s agenda and it was probably this total lack of mental attention to her that was responsible for the punch in the stomach that happened on Wednesday evening, almost three weeks into the longest rain storm in thirteen years.

When Draco entered the common room after Quidditch practice Wednesday night, he frowned. Granger wasn’t there. The spot on the couch he’d grown accustomed to seeing her curled up on, was empty, no book bag, no note…

The bathroom door opened suddenly and she walked out carrying a small tray, not noticing his presence. She stood in front of her desk over her softly steaming cauldron, putting the tray aside and making a note in a small book. The enormous mass of her hair was pulled up on top of her head again, making it into a funny mop and exposing her slim neck. Draco’s breath hitched unexpectedly as the memory of being millimeters from that neck swarmed him suddenly. He averted his gaze and that proved to be a bad idea. She almost always wore her school uniform of tie, white oxford, pleated skirt, socks and maryjanes, or sometimes, school issued black trousers and boots. The dark jeans she was wearing now stretched deliciously over her round little ass and Draco’s cock twitched at the sight. They were cut low at her waist, and as she leaned over the desk, the light golden brown of her lower back was exposed. He stared at the indent of her spine peeking out from the grass green baby tee she wore, and followed it down, dipping below the waistband of her jeans. He had to stop. Look away Draco, look away…

He took off his cloak revealing his own favorite dark jeans and a lighter blue t-shirt. Slytherin must have endowed him with stealth, because Hermione didn’t hear him. Either that, or she was really concentrating hard. He walked over to the desk and stood behind her, peering over her shoulder into the cauldron. A thick, matte, bubble gum pink liquid burbled one fat bubble. He stepped in closer behind her.

“What is that?” He asked just as she was tipping the small tray slightly over the pot. Hermione shrieked and dropped the tray into the pot as she jumped backwards, slamming into the very close, very tall, and very hard wall of body that was one Draco Malfoy.

Draco jerked his head back and narrowly avoided getting knocked in the chin by her head. She stumbled and stepped hard on his foot twice before he grabbed her by the upper arms and moved her away from him.

“Damn it, Granger!” He scowled. How was such a small person able to make his toe hurt so badly? “Fuck!”

Hermione looked at him anxiously. “Sorry” she squeaked out quietly. Two apologies in three days, not good. Then she remembered her potion. “Oh no!” she ran over to the cauldron and winced at the black, gritty sludge forming inside. She groaned and stepped aside, dropping her face into her hands. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it was a lot of wasted time and effort. Thank goodness she had only used half of her supplies.

Draco stepped over the cauldron and peered inside, studying the black sandy substance. It seemed to be hardening. For the next few moments, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The odorless mixture made a small crackling noise and Draco took a step back, but not fast enough. Hermione’s eyes grew wide as she realized what was about to happen with no time to stop it. In a second the substance exploded, sending hot sticky grit all over Draco. He had clumps of thick black sand in a starburst pattern on his shirt, as well as black speckles on his face and bare arms and in his hair. The look of shock on his face was one Hermione would remember forever. It was almost comical. But the look a moment later, as the grainy substance began to burn his skin was anything but funny.

“Agghhhh! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! It fucking burns! Fuck! Oh my God!” Draco cried as he began to frantically swipe the black spots off his face and arms. Hermione watched in frozen horror as the potion started to eat through his t-shirt. Oh, this was bad. Draco seemed to realize at the same time she did, because a second later he was tugging the fabric over his head as fast as could. Black clumps fell from the shirt being removed into his blonde hair and onto his shoulder and neck. Hermione leapt into action and jumped forward, thinking that if it stayed on him he could get seriously burned.

“Oh my God, Malfoy! I’m so sorry! I had no idea! I’m sorry! Shit!” Hermione was fretfully apologizing. Draco’s fingers were in his hair, shaking it out vigorously and alternately, brushing the debris off his face. She reached out and started swiping at any speck of black she could see.

Somewhere in her mind, in a section that was far from rational, she was cataloguing the details of the glorious architecture that was Malfoy’s chest. Broad, strong shoulders, golden light, smooth muscles above a tight, hard, rippled stomach. Small rosy nipples. The only hair on him was a dark line that ran from just below his navel down…. She swiped at a speck she saw where her eyes had led her, a couple inches above the band of his jeans.

Draco’s stomach tensed under the small quick touch and his whole body went rigid. In another part of her mind that also wasn’t thinking clearly, Hermione wondered if he was going into shock from a burn, or maybe the potion, in all of it’s failure, caused rigamortis, or maybe it had a petrifying effect. She had to get this stuff off him now.

Draco inhaled sharply and held his breath, standing very still, with his back stick-straight so that he seemed even taller and started down his nose at her, eyes wide and stunned. Her little hand was flying over his ribs and up over his chest, carelessly sweeping across his nipples sending little shocks of electricity to his cock. Either the stuff was mostly gone, or it had lost its heat, because he didn’t feel anything but that hand. Delicate, quick, light strokes. Draco did indeed feel like a petrificus had been cast on him. The unreality of Granger touching his naked chest like this seemed to have paralyzed his brain. He was breathing hard and fast and his cock strained heavily against his jeans.

The little fingers swept over the hollow just below his shoulder. Draco’s body hummed. With a suddenness and speed that rivaled a snitch, Draco captured her small wrist tightly in his hand mid-swipe, and immobilized it. Hermione’s eyes flew up to his as he held her palm firmly against his chest. They stood there like that, both breathing heavily, eyes locked, and her wrist enveloped by his larger hand.

The look that Malfoy’s silvery eyes had locked onto hers was arresting and Hermione’s stomach plummeted. She let out a shaky breath and didn’t even try to move her hand. She was so close to him. She could smell him. My God, she was touching him. His skin. A bolt of desire unlike any she had felt before flamed through her. She wanted to hurtle forward and somehow mesh into him.

Draco’s eyes flicked down to her lips, open slightly in surprise, and then back to her eyes. He was breathing hard through his nose, his mouth pressed in a tight line, trying to regain his footing. His expression was unreadable. He looked at her lips again, for only a moment, and then closed his eyes, taking in multiple deep breaths. Hermione stared at him, completely unable to move or speak or think.
Finally, his grip on her wrist eased and she slowly pulled her hand away, looking down shyly. “I’m sorry. I had no idea it would do that. I mean, it probably wouldn’t have if I hadn’t dropped the tray in it, but I didn’t hear you come in, and then I got startled and I…I’m… “

The quiet rambling continued as Malfoy slowly bent to pick up his shirt and he cast a few silent repairing charms and it was good as new. She turned to him then and her eyes went wide all over again as she stared dumbly at his still naked chest. Draco slipped the shirt back over his head and pulled it down as Hermione continued muttering.

“It was just supposed to get pink and goopy and then I was supposed to let it sit for three hours, and then I was going to… but it’s okay, I mean, I have more so, and then your poor shirt, and I think it’s all off and you should be okay. I don’t think there are any side effects when…”

“Granger,” Malfoy said sharply in a kind of warning, causing Hermione to stop mid-ramble on an inhale that she held. Her amber eyes locked on his again. He had to get out of here.

And it had to stop raining.



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Phoebejs, sugypunk, The Cat, tootsie: you guys rock. Thanks! The kudos are like writing fuel!

Dreamweaver
I totally agree about Ginny – she’d a bit bolder than Hermione, probably thanks to her older bothers (particularly Fred and George – I love them! I wish they were * my * family – brothers, sons, uncles, I don’t care, okay, probably wouldn’t want them as dads). And yes, Draco is unpredictable. If it were me, I’d assume he was going to stomp all over my heart. But who knows….

Okay, you did it. I’ve been waiting for you to definitively uncover some of my plans (not the maybe plans, but the definite plans – which there aren’t many of), and now you’ve done it. And that’s all I’m going to say about that…

Ahhh Blaise… I didn’t start out intending to write him so evil, it just happened (the whole damn story just happened). I love a nice Blaise. Have you read The Island on CG and IATQO? There is a lovely Blaise there (and a stupendous Draco, much like my own though slightly less broody). * sigh * but waiting for the updates is torture.

I’ve decided to ditch the mantra and indulge in my Draco crush. My hunny can just deal. I still love him best.

luv2cusmile
I love seeing your reaction to the details, like the “human Draco”. (When I read super human Draco, I kept trying to picture him in tights and cape, lol.) And I’m glad you liked the recap. I was feeling like, wow this moving too slow, but then I thought, wait, it’s only been like a week! And now it’s been three and that’s more reasonable for our practical, usually level-headed Hermione to not feel like things are moving too fast. And in what direction?

gabby1234
You may not know this, but this started as a very smutty one-shot that reviewers kept asking me how they had gotten to “that place”. So, I started to write a back story. I had no idea it would be so much about the falling in love stuff. But, the lovely smut will make a come back and man, I can’t wait.

I love Harry and Ginny too. In fact, that’s how I discovered the world of fanfiction. I have read ridiculous quantities of great H/G stuff. H/G ROCKS!

Ooh, Christmas presents…What will they get each other? Will they get each other something? Oh man, I don’t know, I don’t know….

chickacherrycola
Thanks for the hug! Awkward shmackward! Hugs rock! I’m sorry to hear you had a poop-e night. Glad this made it better!

vilasgirl
Husbands. Hmph. Just kidding, I adore mine. But, alas, he snickers at me over the whole Harry Potter Fan Fiction business. But, I don’t let it stop me and sometimes I make him help me think of some of the details. Like…. what kind of potion is Hermione brewing anyway?

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I'd love to hear what you think! Love to all!