Claiming Hermione

Unknot tie. Remove shoes. Socks. Unbutton shirt. Hang up skirt. Bra. Knickers. PJs. First one leg, then the other. Hermione moved automatically, her mind wonderfully blank. She pulled down her covers and climbed in, staring up at the canopy. Her lips felt hot in the cool air of her dark bedroom.

Draco Malfoy kissed her. Kissed her like…like… she couldn’t think of a way to describe it. But, it was, was...

She felt rattled.

Excited.

Scared.

Special.

She felt special. And that was weird.

Hermione was unsure what she was supposed to think, and oddly, the thought that kept surfacing was, “If the other girls knew…”

She could name fifteen girls off the top of her head that would die to be in her position, to be kissed by Draco Malfoy. Hermione groaned at the thought. She didn’t want to be one of those girls.

As her faculties returned, a flood of questions entered her mind. What was going to happen now? What would this do to their working relationship? Why did he kiss her? What did it mean? Was he testing her out? Like taking her for a test-drive before he decided? Did his “damn it” mean that she had failed the test? Could she retake it?

She knew one thing for sure. There was no way in hell she was going to behave like a love-sick puppy. Malfoy kissed her. So what? Was she supposed to swoon and trail at his heels? Okay, she might have swooned. A bit. But Swooning Time was over. And she was not going to follow him around. She had more important things to do with her time.

**************************************************

Pansy pressed up against him on the couch and Draco inched away from her. Daphne looked like she was trying to not laugh and Draco narrowed his eyes at her.

He couldn’t be alone with his thoughts right now. He needed a distraction. The distraction bent her legs under her so her knee was once again pressing into his thigh. He rolled his eyes.

It was just past curfew and the Slytherin Common Room was moderately full. Greg and Vince were huddled with Theo Nott in a corner over a game of snap. They were like sheep. In his absence they had attached themselves to Blaise. Now, with Blaise gone, it looked like Nott was next in line.

No one asked about Zabini. The subject seemed to be taboo. Draco wondered if the Slytherins understood that when Dumbledore said “ill”, he meant “mentally ill”. He wondered if they had seen it coming.

Even Pansy hadn’t said anything. Draco was sure she had thing for Zabini and he wondered what she thought about his absence. But he wouldn’t ask. Since Zabini’s removal, she had been more gloomy than usual and he’d witnessed her sharp tongue lash out at more than one person. It was Pansy’s way. It was the one thing about her that Draco understood.

“I’ve missed you Draco,” she said in low purr, turning her body towards him. Draco cringed. He knew where this was going.

“Can’t please all my fans all the time Pans,” he said trying to put her off. Pansy didn’t notice. Her arm “casually” landed on the back of the couch behind his neck.

She leaned in to whisper in his ear, “But your fans could please you.” She brushed the hair at the nape of his neck lightly. She had all the subtly of a freight train.

Draco pointedly removed her arm from behind him and placed it in her lap, giving her a warning look. It was an old game between them and he couldn’t believe that she was stilltrying. Score one for Parkinson in the tenacity department.

“I doubt it.”

She huffed and pouted like a spoiled little girl. Draco shook his head tiredly and shared a look with Daphne.

Pansy tried a different tactic, “But you haven’t been with anyone all year!”

Draco looked insulted. “How do you know?”

“I have my sources,” she said smugly. “I have to keep track of my Drackie-“

“Don’t!” Draco interrupted harshly. That was the one thing that he absolutely couldn’t stand. That stupid nickname. Granger would never call him that.

Pansy huffed again and looked at Daphne as if asking for help. The tall Slytherin girl merely raised an eyebrow. She wouldn’t get involved in one of Pansy’s ruses if you paid her. Pansy scowled.

Draco shot a grateful look at Daphne and she smiled sweetly at him. Pansy’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. She narrowed her eyes on Daphne who looked confused by the sudden attention.

Pansy looked back at Draco. “Well, you certainly have been scarce lately,” she continued in a tight, controlled voice and then turned back to glare at Daphne. “Maybe my sources have been looking too far from home,” she said bitterly as she shot off the couch and then stomped off.

Daphne rolled her eyes and sighed. “If only she was right,” she said wryly. “I better go clear that up before it gets out of hand.”

Draco watched Daphne’s back wondering briefly about “If only she was right.” He shook his head to clear it. He had enough to deal with right now.

**************************************************

Pansy was a thorn in Draco’s side. But it had been too long and too much had happened to pull the thorn out. He’d probably bleed to death. Even with her obnoxious fawning and clinging, the fact of the matter was that Pansy Parkinson would likely lay down her life for him. And that sort of loyalty was rare, especially in Slytherin. Loyalty was a Gryffindor trait.

Draco pulled off his clothes and left them piled on the floor of his bathroom. He held his wand up for a second, but couldn’t think of anything to add. The hot water curled around his claves as he stepped down in the bath, and he felt his muscles relax the moment the heat surrounded them.

Pansy. He hadn’t had sex with her since fourth year and even then it had only been a few times. Draco didn’t really like her even then, but he was young and didn’t know any better. She threw herself at him (a trait she hadn’t grown out of) and he went for it, like any randy kid would. They fooled around; touching, hand jobs under clothes, a blow job once. Draco told her, in all his young ineloquence, to show him how she “wanked”. And then he learned how to make her come. He had enjoyed that especially. It made him feel powerful. And they had sex. Three times. It could have been more, but she began to act like she owned him, publicly flaunting her “relationship” with the rich Malfoy heir.

The last time they had sex was in his bed while his dorm mates were still at dinner. He didn’t see to her pleasure, though she didn’t seem to mind, and after he came, and they were lying side by side, she said, “Oh, Drakie-poo, that was wonderful and just think how great it will be when I come to the Malfoy Manor over break. I’m sure father will let me.”

And that was it. He never touched her again. He didn’t invite her to the manor. And he made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that not only did she mean nothing to him, but she was never to call him that again. He left her in a hallway sobbing.

Draco shook his head. He was an asshole. She may have overstepped her bounds a bit, but he could have been more considerate, nicer. He could see now that the experience with Pansy set the tone for the rest of his sex life and how he was with all the girls he had been with. He didn’t promise more than he could deliver, but he knew that for some, even if they said they were okay with what they were getting, like Pansy, they harbored secret hopes of more. But he never gave anyone more and he never had sex in his own bed again. He was an asshole.

It couldn’t be like that with Granger. Because of who she was. And because of who he was. And there were other reasons, but he wasn’t ready to admit those yet.

He couldn’t do what she wanted. He wasn’t what she needed. She was Hermione Granger. Practically a legend even if she didn’t know it. A muggleborn in the wizarding world. An outsider who hadn’t let anything bring her down. She was incredibly powerful, smart, and as clever as they come. She had fought grown Death Eaters at fifteen. And no matter what was thrown at her, she remained fair and kind-hearted.

Granger needed a good man. Saint Potter. Thomas. That Roger Davies bloke. Someone like the late Cedric Diggory. Not a Malfoy.

**************************************************

The arched doors leading into the Great Hall were huge and old, but still easy to open. Hermione tilted her head back and looked up at the point of the frame. Why did anyone need a door so insurmountable? Yes, it was impressive and imposing, but it was all for show. That sort of pretense was of no use to Hermione.

Taking a fortifying breath, Hermione lifted her chin a little and strode into the Great Hall. Breakfast was in full-swing and she took her place next to Harry and across from Ron. It was funny how over the years, students tended to claim their spots. It wasn’t liked they had assigned seating, but still they always sat in the same spot.

She could see the Slytherin table – as well as who was not currently sitting at it – from “her” seat. Every mealtime at the Gryffindor table since the spot at had become hers, she had a clear view of Malfoy. Harry did too. Ron didn’t.

Could seeing something, even something you thought you hated, everyday – many times a day – for years, somehow affect your feelings about it? Could simple familiarity make you more likely to accept that thing? It was an odd thought.

**************************************************

Draco turned his head automatically, the way one does when they catch a movement out of the corner of their eye, to see Granger walking up the aisle of the small Arithmancy classroom. She smiled a casual, non-descript smile. Draco didn’t know what to make of it, but nodded his head in return.

He hadn’t known what to expect, but he felt like whatever was supposed to come his way still hadn’t been delivered. It put him slightly on edge.

And that little smile – she might give a cat that smile – was all he got. No awkward glances. No knowing stares. No star-struck I’ve-just-been-kissed-by-Draco-Malfoy look that he was used to. Not even a cold shoulder. Just nothing. It was like nothing had happened.

But that was what he wanted right?

**************************************************

Hermione managed to do a good job of acting unaffected all the way through Friday’s prefect meeting. Throughout the week she was brief, but not unfriendly, and didn’t shy away from discussing their head duties. Their Thursday meeting was very productive – they some changes to the tutoring program, decided that Draco would handle the Yule Ball, while Hermione continued to oversee the prefects. She was rather proud of herself.

But by the time she sat down for dinner Friday night, the act was starting to get hard to keep up. She needed resolution, some sort of closure. And not just about the kiss. There was still that other thing hanging over them. She was torn between feeling relieved that he was late and she didn’t have to face him, and wanting to grab him, feed him veritaserum, and begin the inquisition.

The large door creaked open and Malfoy slipped inside. Many heads turned at the noise, including Hermione’s. But she turned back quickly and, a little too loudly, said, “So, Lavender, how are you going to wear your hair for the ball?”

Lavender paused with her fork half way to her open mouth and gaped at her right along with Ron, Ginny and Harry, whose face was scrunched up in perplexity. She looked at all the stunned faces and frowned.

“What?”

**************************************************

Hermione sat in the quiet common room late Friday night. Draco was still missing in action. He hadn’t spent a single evening there since she’d dragged him to the decorations room. The cubby labeled, “Draco Malfoy, Head Boy” was cleaned out, and having seen several notes in it yesterday, it was obvious to Hermione that Draco had been there. So, yes, he was avoiding her and that fact seeming to amplify Hermione’s need for closure.

Leaning her elbows on her desk, she rested her forehead on her palms and stared down at the smooth wood of her desk. After several long minutes she decided that it couldn’t be ignored, even if she had to be the one to bring it up.

Steeling her courage, she ripped off a small square of parchment and dipped her quill in ink.

I think we need to talk.
- Hermione




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Thank you all for all the love nuggets! I’m trying carve out extra time in my busy month to make some real progress, and the kudos REALLY help me justify losing sleep and writing on the bus!

Crissy, clarice, MidnighTemptation, Gryffindor_Slytherin, pointlessdreamer, Mrs.Malfoy, Dani, Teh Kita, Sunny, forever his, Snapes_Goddess, The Cat, Meakochan, OCHIT, luv2cusmile, and alyssium: Thank you so much for all the encouragement!

Chickacherrycola
What’s Cali got to do with it? (I’m pretty sure I know why you like guys :o)

SoftObsidian74
“and they can go on playing this game forever and not having sex” – Oh my god, no! If they do that, then * I * will spontaneously combust. Thank you so much for all the encouragement. I really can’t say thank you enough, so know how grateful I am.

kittycat30
“How can Draco be so good, so patient?” – In my mind he has incredible self control. He’s a calculating sort of guy, always observing, always waiting ‘til the right time to strike. In this case, he is also feeling years of karmic guilt and it’s preventing him from acting.

kazfeist
I’m hoping that he’ll see it as a kind of compass. Not that I think that Draco should be a Quidditch player, but it represents someone’s faith in him, even when he isn’t “the best”. I hope it reminds to not give up.

Breanna (Breenieweenie)
Um, yes! You do beautiful trailers. I would be an idiot to not say, yes please. I emailed you. Can’t wait to talk to you about it. Thanks!

Dreamweaver
Hermione has no idea what she is in for, and Draco knows that she doesn’t. What he may come to see though, is that the “fuller” experience she is looking for may not be so far from what he wants. Can’t wait to get your reactions to the next few chapters!

tootsie
Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like that either. I think it takes a special kind of man to produce that sort of kiss. * sigh * I think Hermione is pretty sure that Draco enjoyed the kiss, though she may be unsure why he broke it off. But I think she was a little too stunned to really think much at all.

gabby1234
I WISH my special project was about dramione. Ha! I’ve helped develop and internship program in my city over the last year and the interns are finally here! Four weeks to go…
I did sign up for a fic exchange though!

Pipa
Awww, you called me nena. I grew up in a Spanish speaking neighborhood and nena and meha are warm and fuzzy words that smell like tamales cooking. ☺

Liz
Thanks!

sugypunk
LMAO! No, not like a dog. But speaking of animals and nicknames, don’t you love it in stories where the guy calls the girl “pet”. Mmmmmm… I likes.

Sara
I do love socks. Doesn’t everyone? My favorites that I designed are: ladies – white knee-his with a long carrot up the back of the calf (green toe and heel), and mens – bright red with a bold white lightning bolt on the sides. I also did some ninja socks that pretty much rock, as ninja socks would. :P

ichi.ruki
“they have a love/hate but respect on both sides relationship, even though bicker like crazy” – sounds a little familiar…

“And not to imply the gift and the ball are related, but…” – girl you have a dirty mind! Lol!

“See, I could be the comedy to your angst and vice versa!” – exactly what I was thinking. So send me a message. LJ or email. ☺
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Oooh the shit is about to hit the fan. Maybe. I'm not giving anything away. Please review!