Everything\'s Free in America
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
3,671
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
3,671
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Fourth
The handkerchief smelled like that stuff Malfoy wore. Hermione kept telling herself she didn’t like it, but when she excused herself from the boys to go to the restroom she pulled out the black cloth and inhaled deeply of it as though she could somehow absorb it into herself. She tucked it back into her pocket and left the bathroom. Harry and Ron were leaning against the wall, watching another tour group go by.
“And look who’s with him,” Ron was saying. “What are they doing here?”
“It’s a free country,” Harry said.
“Bloody ‘ell,” Ron muttered. Hermione looked up to see Malfoy and Nott following the docent. Nott seemed to be doing his best to get into her pants, and Malfoy looked bored. She looked away quickly as Malfoy’s eyes darted up toward them.
“Smarmy little bastard,” Ron said. Hermione looked and saw that Malfoy had sneered at them. Nott looked away from the attractive docent and attempted a smirk, but ended up looking like a seasick goblin. He was a simpering idiot anyway. He and Malfoy had teamed up during sixth and seventh years, and although none of the three Gryffindors was a fan of Malfoy’s, they all acknowledged that he was at least cleverer than Nott. The boys sneered back at the two Slytherins, and Hermione looked away. She felt Malfoy’s gaze still on her.
They had lunch in the cafeteria. Hermione went up to refill her soda, and felt a knot harden in her stomach as Malfoy walked past her. She took the handkerchief from her pocket and looked at him, as he paused to retrieve some plastic utensils.
“Hey Malfoy,” she said. He turned.
“What do you want, Granger?” he asked, his lip curling as though he’d been faced with something loathsome.
“You dropped this,” she said, handing him the wadded-up handkerchief. He all but snatched it from her hands. “You’re welcome,” she said testily, as he walked away.
She sat back down with Ron and Harry and glanced surreptitiously at Malfoy. He shook out the handkerchief to fold it and a piece of paper fell to the table. His eyes slid across hers and he picked it up, tucking the handkerchief into his pocket. She looked away, but watched him unfold it out of the corner of her eye. Ron and Harry were talking about the Yankees game they would be seeing the next day, so they didn’t notice her lack of attention. His eyes flicked over the paper and he looked at her. Hermione held her breath; Malfoy nodded shortly.
Hermione exhaled.
On the paper she’d scrawled a rapid note: Ron & Harry at game tomorrow 2pm--my room?
Malfoy wiped his lips and tucked the note under the paper napkin on his tray. After a few minutes, he and Nott threw away their garbage and left.
“So, Hermione, are you going to be all right tomorrow while we’re at the game?” Harry asked.
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure I’ll find something to do. It’s a big city, after all.”
She could hardly keep her attention on the Broadway show they saw that night. Ron and Harry went off to their room and left her alone in hers. Was she really going to meet Malfoy the next afternoon? Hermione knew why she’d invited him up. She could say it was to talk about what had happened, to come to some agreement about never telling anyone. But that was a lie. As her head had cleared, flashes of the early-morning encounter returned to her. And they were exquisite. She felt like she had to know whether it was really that good or not. She had to smell that cologne again, had to feel Malfoy’s mouth on her bare skin and his body against hers.
Hermione tried to tell herself it was hormonal.
“And look who’s with him,” Ron was saying. “What are they doing here?”
“It’s a free country,” Harry said.
“Bloody ‘ell,” Ron muttered. Hermione looked up to see Malfoy and Nott following the docent. Nott seemed to be doing his best to get into her pants, and Malfoy looked bored. She looked away quickly as Malfoy’s eyes darted up toward them.
“Smarmy little bastard,” Ron said. Hermione looked and saw that Malfoy had sneered at them. Nott looked away from the attractive docent and attempted a smirk, but ended up looking like a seasick goblin. He was a simpering idiot anyway. He and Malfoy had teamed up during sixth and seventh years, and although none of the three Gryffindors was a fan of Malfoy’s, they all acknowledged that he was at least cleverer than Nott. The boys sneered back at the two Slytherins, and Hermione looked away. She felt Malfoy’s gaze still on her.
They had lunch in the cafeteria. Hermione went up to refill her soda, and felt a knot harden in her stomach as Malfoy walked past her. She took the handkerchief from her pocket and looked at him, as he paused to retrieve some plastic utensils.
“Hey Malfoy,” she said. He turned.
“What do you want, Granger?” he asked, his lip curling as though he’d been faced with something loathsome.
“You dropped this,” she said, handing him the wadded-up handkerchief. He all but snatched it from her hands. “You’re welcome,” she said testily, as he walked away.
She sat back down with Ron and Harry and glanced surreptitiously at Malfoy. He shook out the handkerchief to fold it and a piece of paper fell to the table. His eyes slid across hers and he picked it up, tucking the handkerchief into his pocket. She looked away, but watched him unfold it out of the corner of her eye. Ron and Harry were talking about the Yankees game they would be seeing the next day, so they didn’t notice her lack of attention. His eyes flicked over the paper and he looked at her. Hermione held her breath; Malfoy nodded shortly.
Hermione exhaled.
On the paper she’d scrawled a rapid note: Ron & Harry at game tomorrow 2pm--my room?
Malfoy wiped his lips and tucked the note under the paper napkin on his tray. After a few minutes, he and Nott threw away their garbage and left.
“So, Hermione, are you going to be all right tomorrow while we’re at the game?” Harry asked.
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure I’ll find something to do. It’s a big city, after all.”
She could hardly keep her attention on the Broadway show they saw that night. Ron and Harry went off to their room and left her alone in hers. Was she really going to meet Malfoy the next afternoon? Hermione knew why she’d invited him up. She could say it was to talk about what had happened, to come to some agreement about never telling anyone. But that was a lie. As her head had cleared, flashes of the early-morning encounter returned to her. And they were exquisite. She felt like she had to know whether it was really that good or not. She had to smell that cologne again, had to feel Malfoy’s mouth on her bare skin and his body against hers.
Hermione tried to tell herself it was hormonal.