Waiting

He was late.

She sat at the table – their table – and spread her notes out, looking for the carefully marked place where they had left off the day before. Even if he was going to be late, she was going to take advantage of the time she had and gather her thoughts. Reaching into her bag, she took out a quill and an inkpot, and began scratching away some notes about what else they should include.

“Gods, Granger, you just couldn’t wait five minutes, could you?” she could see him asking incredulously. It would purely be incredulous, and not mean-spirited in the least; she had been shocked to discover, two weeks prior, that he was capable of being perfectly civil one-on-one. He would gape at the work she had done already, roll his eyes with a little chuckle (Merlin she loved that chuckle. There was something so human about it that made her smile every time.), and sit down next to her in order to read over her shoulder while she explained herself.

But that couldn’t happen until he arrived. It was a sunny Saturday, so he had probably had Quidditch practice. Maybe he was running up to the library right now in order to get to their study session on time. He had been perfectly on time every day for the past two weeks, so today shouldn’t be any different.

There were only a few more days until their Transfiguration project was due, after all, and while they had already done so much, there was so much more to do before it satisfied either of their standards.

So any minute he wasn’t there helping her was a wasted minute. And there had already been fifteen wasted minutes.

Not that they hadn’t wasted fifteen minutes during every previous study session. But those had been because they had gotten talking about current research, post-Hogwarts plans, and teaching strategies. They hadn’t been because he was late.

Although, yesterday’s wasted time had been for an entirely different reason.

Unable to work any longer, she puts her quill down and leans back in her chair, biting her lip, twirling a chestnut-colored curl around her finger, and staring into space, frowning slightly. She thinks she knows the reason why he’s late, now.

Yesterday, even though it had been a Friday night, they had agreed to meet to work. No one else was in the library, aside from Madam Pince, and their table was hidden from her desk. They had just finished work for night and were just sitting, talking about Gods know what.

He had been telling her a particularly funny story about meeting with Cornelius Fudge – who neither of them had a satisfactory opinion of – when somehow, someway, she still wasn’t exactly sure how it happened, he kissed her.

One minute she was laughing over how much of a suck-up Fudge had been as Minister, and the next he had leaned over and his lips were on hers.

At first she had been too shocked to do anything at all. If she were honest with herself, at that moment there was nothing that she wanted more in the world than to be kissing him. But before she had a chance to respond, he had pulled back, grey eyes wide as he muttered, “Sorry,” and then grabbed all of his things and bolted out of there.

She didn’t think she had ever seen Draco Malfoy bolt out of anywhere. Maybe retreat cowardly, but never bolt.

Even now, she didn’t know why she hadn’t called out to him, telling him to wait or to come back or that she was the one who was sorry. But now it was too late. They were supposed to meet half an hour ago, and he didn’t show up.

“Hermione Granger doesn’t wait for anyone,” she muttered to herself as she stood up and gathered her things. But as she brushed away a tear, the only outward sign that she had been hoping for him to show, she knew that it wasn’t true. She would wait for him. Whether it be a sign that he liked her as more than a friend, which she hoped, or an opening for her to tell him how she felt, or at least to kiss him, she would wait.

**

Thoughts?
xx
suzz