One Fine Line

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Chapter 8

Every possible means to approach her rather delicate situation tore through Hermione’s mind as she paced in front of the portrait door to the Gryffindor common room. She spent most of the day and early evening trying to figure out the best way to handle it; she even missed dinner because of her indecisiveness. Hermione toyed with the idea of merely storming in and staring her two friends down, intimidating them into future silence; but, the more she considered it, the more she realised that it would only put her in an even more awkward position. If she were to overreact, the first thing Harry would do would be to ask why it was such a big deal, despite the obvious: that they were dealing with Malfoy. She would have to tell them about the incident in her room, along with the most recent hallway assault.

She didn’t have the mental fortitude to deal with the consequences of that. At least, not at the moment.

Sighing heavily, she finally muttered the password to the fat lady, who cast Hermione a rather indignant glare, as she had been waiting a good ten minutes for her to finally say it.

“It’s about time! If I had to wait any longer, they might have replaced me with a new portrait!” She shrilled, placing her fists in her hips.

Hermione clicked her tongue against her teeth as she shot her an irritated glance. She was in no mood for impertinent portrait dwellers.

“Stuff it. I’m in no mood to deal with your attitude! Now, kindly open, please. I’ve more important things to do than to deal with an overweight Prima Donna done up with cheap oil paints!” Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, I never!” the fat lady squealed before swinging open.

“Yeah…you never…” Hermione mumbled as she stalked through entryway.

She did her best to keep her temper from welling over. Normally, she never had problems keeping her irritability in check, but today was an exception; the entire bloody term was an exception!

“YOU!” She glared as she pointed angrily at Ron and Harry, who stopped mid-play during their game of wizard chess.

So much for not overreacting.

“Umm…Her-Hermione. How’s it going?” Ron stammered, obviously startled by the ire in her voice.

“Are you ok?” Harry watched her quizzically, slowly rising from the cushioned arm chair in which he had been previously reclining.

“Does it look like I’m ok?” she seethed. She wasn’t sure when her control finally snapped, but there was no use calming down now. Perhaps if she were intimidating enough, they would be too afraid to ask why.

Yes, that would be brilliant.

“Haven’t seen much of you the last couple days…hope all is well…” Ron stammered, his face becoming redder with each word.

A maniacal laugh escaped her lips as she quickly closed the distance between them. She took little notice to the crowd of gawking bystanders before slamming her palms on the small wooden table between Harry and Ron, causing the black and white figurines to wobble precariously on the game board. .

“Well… well? If you consider being the subject of all recent malicious and insidious jokes and rumours, then I am quite peachy!” Her chestnut curls fell wildly around her face as her icy gaze met Ron’s

Ron jumped from his chair as chess pieces clattered around his feet. His eyes darted around the room, catching small groups of students whispering intently with each pass.

He sputtered a few unintelligible words before shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn khaki pants

“Hermione, maybe you should sit down and relax. Take a few deep breaths...” Harry motioned to the chair he had swiftly abandoned when Hermione had swept into the room.

“Relax? Why, pray tell, should I relax? Hmm? Should I just ignore the fact that everyone is whispering falsities behind my back?” she turned swiftly and shot a menacing glower toward a couple of third years who had been murmuring adamantly during the whole ordeal. Turning back to Harry, she straightened her back and brought herself to full height. She was no where near tall enough to be completely intimidating, but she could at least try.

“Or maybe I should just pretend to have not found out that my dearest friends were the ones that started them! Honestly, Harry! I would have expected much more, especially from you. You know how it feels to have people rumouring about you.” Some of the fight momentarily left her voice with the last statement. She really did hate reaming Harry. She knew that he hadn’t intentionally meant for all of this to get out. Nevertheless, he did tell Ron.

He should have known better.

“What?” His emerald gaze immediately darkened. “What in the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“Blimey, Harry, what did you do?” Ron interjected.

Hermione immediately spun towards Ron, poking him furiously in the chest, “Don’t even get me started on you! You are guilty of far more than Harry!”

Ron immediately silenced.

“Hermione, what has gotten into you? I know people have been talking…but I swear that we didn’t start any rumours! You know we would never do anything to hurt you.”

“That’s-that’s right!” Ron stuttered before clamping his mouth shut at the sight of Hermione’s still fiery gaze.

“Oh, Hermione. Why don’t you stop with the dramatics and come clean? We all know you are sneaking around with someone. Malfoy, namely. You might as well stop denying it.”

Hermione’s eye twitched in irritation at the sound of Lavender’s voice behind her. Oh, if only…

In one fluid motion, Hermione drew her wand from her robe and had Lavender pinned against the wall before she could utter another senseless word. She knew that she would be reprimanded for this later, but at the moment, all she cared about was shutting the stupid girl’s mouth.

“How dare you even speak to me! Don’t think that I don’t know that you helped in the spreading of these lies.” Hermione pressed the tip of her wand further against the flesh of Lavender’s neck. She was beyond reason and control now. Somewhere along the line, her resolve finally broke and reason took a back seat to passion and anger.

“How do you think I should transfigure you? I think a rat sounds about right. A downright, smarmy flea bitten rat that does nothing but spread disease sounds like the ticket!

“Hermione! What’s gotten into you?” Harry rushed to her side, yanking her wand from her hand. After he had confiscated her wand, he grabbed her by the wrist and wrenched her away from the now whimpering Lavender.

“You could be expelled! What’s going on with you?” He asked again, turning her flush with himself.

Hermione blinked as if coming out of a trace. Hesitantly, she brought her eyes to Harry’s fully expecting to see them full of anger. Rather, his vivid green eyes swam with concern. As her cheeks began to flush with embarrassment, she tentatively glanced around to see many of her housemates standing by, mouths agape in shock at what had just occurred.

Her eyes began to tear at the realisation of what had just transpired. There was no doubt that Headmistress McGonagall would get wind of what happened. She could very well be expelled.

Harry’s gaze softened at the sight of her silent tears. Cupping her damp cheeks with his hands, he rubbed his thumbs soothingly along the flushed skin.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” He whispered, wrapping one lanky arm around her quivering shoulders.

“No!”

Harry started. “What?”

“No! Why couldn’t you have just come to me if you were concerned? If you had just asked me, than none of this would have happened! Don’t try to console me when you are responsible!” She shrieked, almost pleadingly. She desperately wanted to let him console her, but deep down she fell too betrayed. Even if it was unintentional, it still hurt.

“Moine…”

“Don’t!” Her eyes squeezed shut as she frantically shook her head. “Just don’t! You, Ron and Lavender can have fun in your speculations. Don’t expect me to stick around to listen to them.”

Fearing she would break out in full blown sobs, she rushed from the common room, slamming the portrait door behind her. As soon as her feet hit the cold stone of the hallways, she broke into a full run. She didn’t know where she was running to, where she could find solace from everything: her supposed friends, the lies, the insinuations, the whispers.

Herself.

*~*~*~*~*

Eventually, Hermione found herself weakly hunched over the small table of her own common room, a hot cup of tea and a small plate of lemon biscuits as her only company, which was perfectly fine with her, as food didn’t gossip.

Well, she hoped, anyway.

The tears had long dried and the shuddering sobs no longer racked her small frame. She didn’t know what had upset her more, the thought of everyone talking about her apparent affair with her arch enemy and being at the forefront of the biggest scandal since Dumbledore’s death, or the fact that she had just jeopardized her head girl position, over all admittance to Hogwarts, and future in general.

All in one night.

She was always good at multitasking. Where was that bloody time turner when she really needed it?

Running a hand through her tousled curls, she sighed and took a sip of her tea. The light flavour of chamomile contrasted and clashed with the strength of herbal mint. Her eyebrow arched at the irony as she realised that everything in her life seemed to be forming a dichotomy, even her tea.

“Arrrggggg,” she let out a strangled cry of frustration as her forehead connected with the solid oak table.

“I wouldn’t do that too much, might lose those precious brain cells of yours.”

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but rather remained silent. Any other day she could have taken his verbal onslaught in stride, retaliated even, but today had been too much, even for her.

“Just go away, Malfoy,” she mumbled weakly into the table, not bothering to raise her head to speak to him.

“Oh come now, I expect more than that, especially coming from a girl that nearly hexed a fellow student. Her own housemate at that!”

That got her attention.

“How did you know about that?” Her eye widened as her head shot up, sending a mass of tangled curls tumbling over her eyes.

“Granger, you actually expected to attack the biggest gossiper at Hogwarts an not have it spread all over school? That’s naïve, even for you.” He let out a derisive snort.

“Of course I anticipated- oh for Merlin’s sake Malfoy! Put a shirt on! I am nauseated as it is, I don’t need your help.” Hermione spat. After shoving her frizzy locks from her eyes, she found shirtless Malfoy in front of her, arms crossed over his broad chest and smirking in all his arrogant glory. If she weren’t so irritated, she would have stopped to admire the pleasant form in front of him. The fact that, at the moment, his body was the only thing pleasant about him consoled her for having such treacherous thoughts.

“Why? This is my area too; I should be able to do as I please. Be thankful I’m not walking around naked.”

“Oh, I am.”

“You know,” he mused aloud, dismissing her insult as he toyed with the drawstring of his deep green linen sleeping pants, “I have to admit that I’m almost proud. I never figured you would be so…aggressive. I mean, to risk your position and privilege in such a way-that takes nerve…or you’re completely daft.”

“This coming from the person that tried to kill Dumbledore?” She glanced at him over the rim of her tea cup as she took a sip.

Draco’s jaw muscle clenched in irritation at the comment.

“Well, I wasn’t anticipating an audience. Now you, you had half the bloody Gryffindor house watching, and didn’t even think twice! Nicely done.”

Hermione could hear the sarcasm and derision beneath his twisted compliment, coaxing her face into an irritable pout.

“Well, if you know so much, then you should know that I don’t want to deal with your mockery.” She picked up a small lemon glazed biscuit from the tray she had neglected. “Go away,” she finally stated, articulating each word between forceful bites.

“Nope.”

Hermione emitted a strange gurgling sound before shooting up from her chair, causing it to fall to the floor in a loud clatter. Huffing her hair from her eyes, she set a solid glare on Malfoy. She willed all of those witty insults she stored away to come to her quickly but her anger and frustration had finally exhaust her.

“Why do you insist on annoying me?” She shouted, shifting around the table in attempts to leave.

“Because it’s so easy,” he replied simply as he extended his arm, easily catching her by her waist and preventing her from leaving.

“Well, it would be easy to hex you a third eye, but you don’t see me waving my wand in your face! Grow up, Malfoy, and while you’re at it, take your hands off me.”

“This coming from someone who threatened to hex Lavender into a rat,” he smirked, “Though, fitting choice I might add. And no, I quite like where my hands are.”

Hermione shouted in frustration as she shoved at Draco’s arm, trying to wrench herself free. Finally realising that she wasn’t going to be able to physically remove him from her person, she decided to use the next best course of action: magic.

“I asked nicely, don’t make me use force.” She warned, positioning the tip of her wand squarely on his bare chest.

Rather than the spiteful remark that Hermione was fully expecting to hear, her ears were met with laughter. Not the evil snickering that usually came from Draco, but instead, he sounded fully amused.

As his laughter died, he rose slowly; his arm didn’t release his grip on her waist but was rather tightened its hold and was quickly joined by the wizard’s other arm.

“What…what are you on about?” Hermione stammered as she shifted, more from unease than anger now.

“You honestly think,” he started slowly, almost insultingly, “that you frighten me? I’m a Malfoy. I assure you that I’ve seen far more dark and disturbing things than the end of your wand.” His lips turned in a contemptuous smirk. “Though,” he continued, “I do have to say that this bolder side of you is intriguing.”

Hermione cocked an eyebrow; “Intriguing?” She would have bit back with something a tad bit wittier, but the close proximity to an attractive half naked man did nothing for her brain functions.

“Yes.” His grip tightened, forcing her body closer to his.

“Why,” she cleared her throat, “would it be intriguing.” she finished, letting the sarcasm drip from her last words.

“Oh come now, I thought you were supposed to be clever.” Draco scoffed in return. “Well, if I must explain,” he added before she had a chance to respond, “You showed power today and publicly at that. You forcefully displayed your dominance and superior magical power over another. It was so very un-Gryffindor like and so very sexy.”

Hermione blanched, “Sexy?” This was the last thing she needed.

“I know you aren’t daft. Power is seductive and damn near irresistible. Much to my chagrin, of course, seeing as you are a mudblood. Despite that little hitch, you can’t deny that you’ve never wondered what it would be like to cross that line.”

Hermione swallowed audibly as Draco leaned his face in closer to hers.

“It felt good, didn’t it? To give into your darker side. To throw caution into the wind and let your inner most desires dictate your actions. It was empowering wasn’t it?”

Hermione lifted her gaze to meet his, stopping momentarily to take in the change in his eyes. The normal silvery grey had deepened into rich pewter, full of not only passion, but also provocation.

She tried her best to admit to herself that everything he had just said hadn’t be an exact recitation of what she had been mulling over for the past hour. It had felt good to finally stand up for herself, to prove that she could reduce a fellow wizard to tears by the mere suggestion of using her powers. The more control she realised she had, the more she wished to display it. The seductive rush of magic that had coursed through her veins was addicting.

And dangerous.

She was beginning to understand why dark wizards turned. Possessing superior intellect and ability in magic left no room for weakness. One slip in self control could send one spiralling down a path that lead to a place no one should be.

“Give in.” He finally stated, “Why deny yourself something you know you want.”

“You mean you?” She scoffed, shaking herself out of the odd trace that seemed to overcome her. “Please, don’t flatter yourself.”

“To the power. Cross that line, Granger.” He urged, lightly brushing her lips with his.

“Never,” she replied breathlessly.

Draco didn’t give her time to pull away before he forcefully brought his lips against hers. Dragging a hand through her knotted curls, he anchored her mouth, deepening his possessive and potent kiss.

Hermione began to protest as he crushed himself against her. She didn’t want to admit or believe that she could be seduced by him, but every time his lips brushed hers before claiming her mouth in a searing kiss, every time he nipped at her bottom lip causing her entire body to erupt in pleasurable shivers, more and more of her already weakened resistance began to crumble.

She did want to be challenged. She wanted someone who could match her, even surpass her, in a way. She was tired of people always regarding her with mild disinterest, writing her off as the brainy overachiever who wanted nothing more than a quiet room and a dusty book.

She was tired of it. Tired of being the smart one, the cautious one, the sensible one.

Tired of it all.

With the sound of her wand clattering against the floor echoing in her ears, her small hands slid up the naked flesh of his chest and came to rest at the base of his neck, taking a moment to finger his cleanly trimmed hair before pressing herself to him. A throaty moan escaped her she felt Draco drag his hand underneath the tail of her wrinkled, untucked oxford shirt, gently scraping his short nails across her back.

“You can feel it, can’t you? It courses through your veins like a drug.” He growled before dragging his teeth roughly across her collarbone, leaving small bite marks against her flushed skin.

“Don’t you know when to shut the hell up?” She gasped, grasping the lip of the table for support, since her knees decided they would have nothing to do with it.

“Don’t get cheeky with me, mudblood,” He warned, pushing her back further against the edge of the table.

“Or what?” she placed two open palms against his chest, “what makes you think I’m scared of you?” She shoved him forcefully, causing him to stumble back a few steps.

When she saw his features darken dangerously, Hermione immediately regretted baiting him. She knew he was dangerous, dangerous enough for Voldermort to entrust the murder of Dumbledore. Eyeing her wand on the floor, she mentally slapped herself for letting it fall in the heat of the moment.

Draco followed her gaze to her wand and back. Smirking, he swiftly closed the space between them and grasped her by the waist.

“That won’t save you now.”

With fluid ease, he lifted her, forcing her legs around his waist and bringing her back against the top of the table with painful force, causing Hermione’s tea and biscuits to tumble to the floor with a loud crash.

Hermione let out a silent scream as she felt all the air leave her lungs. Pain mixed with pleasure as her shirt was ripped open, exposing her to the cool air and Draco’s hungry eyes. Her hands pawed headily at his shirtless torso as she tried to grasp him; though, she was unsure whether it was to push him away or pull him onto her. Not that she really had any say in the matter, and startlingly, she was fine with that.

Finally gripping his upper arms, she pulled him back to her, letting the weight of him consume her as she nipped at his bottom lip. Drawing it into her mouth, she suckled gently, allowing her tongue to trace seductively before releasing.

Draco groaned heavily as he dropped his head, trailing open kisses down her neck to the crevice between her breasts, finally resting upon her lace clad nipple. Suckling through the fabric, he let his hands slid around her back, deftly releasing the clasp of her bra.

He eagerly tugged the straps from her arms, removing the delicate lace and letting it fall hastily to the floor. Once the offensive garment had been disposed of, he let his hand glide over the smooth, taut skin of her stomach. Reaching her breast, he ran his thumb over her exposed nipple.

Hermione let out a small gasp at as hot sparks resonated through her. In the back of her mind, she kept reminding herself who this was. Malfoy was her enemy, the one person in the world next to Voldermort who was hell bent on destroying her and her friends. But those hands, and the way her body shivered deliciously when his hot breath beat against her balmy skin. It felt too damn good.

She sighed pleasurably as she felt his tongue languidly trace her taut nipples, squirming as the seductive heat began to spread through her belly. She remembered the first night this happened, the way he had tackled her on her bed, held her down and slowly wore away at her defences.

“Why?” she panted

“Why, what?” He mumbled into the skin of her stomach

“Why are you doing this?” The lust induced fog slowly began to dissipate in her mind.

“What are you asking questions?” He arched a pale eyebrow as he glanced up from her stomach. Really, she had no sense of timing.

She shoved as she wiggled herself free from his weight. Snatching her shirt from the back of a chair, she blushed as hormones subsided and modesty set in. To her dismay, the small opal buttons of her shirt were scattered across the floor, and as her gaze once again met Malfoy, she quickly covered her chest with the fabric.

“Don’t you think that it’s a bit inconsequential if you cover yourself? It’s nothing I’ve not already seen.”

“I have my modesty.” And dignity, damn it.

“You didn’t seem all that modest when you practically jumped me a few minutes ago. So maybe I should ask, what are you doing?”

“That’s….different.” she sniffed, “I was in emotional turmoil and not thinking clearly. You shouldn’t have taken advantage me.”

Draco shoved his hands into the pockets of his sleep pants. He might be rude, arrogant, and evil even, but he didn’t take advantage of women. He did have some moral fibre.

“I did no such thing, and I resent being accused of such.” He casually stepped towards her, “I merely presented you with the open door; you were the one who walked through.”

Hermione had no excuse. She was the one who let him get so far, and she had enjoyed it.
“I just don’t understand what, why you are interested in me. We’ve hated each other for years. Why now?”

He simply shrugged as he began to circle her, stopping behind her to caress the skin of her neck. “I can’t say I’ve warmed up to your insufferable attitude, but your body, now that’s a different story.” Brushing her hair to the side, he nibbled at one of her earlobes.

“So this is purely physical? No other mental or emotional intentions involved?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Nope.”

“I can live with that.”