Eight and Eighth--Chapter 21
Title: Eight and Eighth
Author: Marmalade Fever
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, and more.
Genres: Romance, Drama, weird combo of in-Hogwarts and post-Hogwarts, and Humor. I can't write a fanfic without humor leaking its way in.
Spoilers: DH (though no epilogue)
Overall Rating: PG-13
Summary: Up from the ashes of seventh year grow the roses of the eighth. Eight students return for their final year at Hogwarts, and Hermione Granger would never have thought Draco Malfoy would or could be one of those roses.
8 & 8th-Chapter 21-An Upward Spiral in a Downward Fall
“That was weird,” Harry commented as he joined Hermione on their way to dinner one Sunday evening.
“What was?” She was trying to walk and study her NEWT preparation guide at the same time, and multi-tasking any more might just be harmful for her health-should she walk into a wall, that is
“Malfoy. I was in the boys’ dorm and he came walking out of the loo with a flower in his hand!” He snorted. “Like I said, weird.”
Hermione blinked. “A flower?” she asked, her pulse starting to race. “The loo?”
“I know! I wonder where he got it from. Maybe he picked it from the greenhouse and was giving it some water.” Harry made a face. “Doesn’t make any sense any way you look at it. Unless….” He gave her a meaningful look and a wink.
“Please don’t suggest he picked it to give to me,” she groaned. Ever since Ron had punched Malfoy, Ginny and Harry had been taking every advantage they could to find proof that a certain blond-haired git fancied her, even if most of their observations were their idea of a joke.
Hermione thanked Merlin and anyone else that they were not taking the idea too seriously. They’d been riled up at first, but now they seemed to find it funny and nothing else.
“Well, if you find a flower at some point, you’ll know where it came from,” he teased. She most certainly would.
Ron was currently away for another brutal practice session to prepare for a game against the Holyhead Harpies, which was, curiously enough, scheduled for Valentine’s Day, which was now only a couple of weeks away. In general, Hermione had to admit that life was much less stressful for her when he was away. She still had to room with August, but luckily the other girl wasn’t one to drone on and on about her boyfriend in front of his ex-girlfriend.
Hermione was happy for them… sort of. It was nice to see Ron moving on after she’d ended their relationship so abruptly. He did deserve love, she just wasn’t sure she was the best person to give it to him. But the green-eyed monster wasn’t so easily tamed.
She gave up trying to read, think, walk, and talk to Harry at the same time, and lowered her NEWT guide just in time to see Padma approaching them.
“I cannot believe it!” she seethed, clutching a letter in her hand and shaking it.
“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked carefully. A fuming Padma, she’d learned, was not the easiest person to get along with.
Padma took a large breath and let it out slowly. “I’m going to be an aunt,” she stated, crossing her arms and waiting for either of them to comment.
Harry opened his mouth and closed it, looking to Hermione for guidance. “Parvati?” Hermione asked.
“Parvati,” Padma confirmed. She slid one of her hands over her face. “She’s not even nineteen yet and she’s married and having a baby and hasn’t finished her schooling! And she’s living in the States! What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s… in love?” Harry guessed.
Padma threw him an angry look. “I just don’t get how she can be so stupid. They barely dated. They as good as eloped. And he’s eight years older than us! How can she think that being so… so frivolous can be a good idea?” she spat. “I know her and I know she’s going to regret this, and it’s already too late! I swear, I’m going to date my future husband for at least three years before I tie the knot!” And with that, Padma stormed off down the hallway.
“She’s so… supportive,” Harry murmured.
Hermione nodded in agreement. “I can see where she’s coming from, though,” she admitted. “We’re still awfully young, and marriage is a big commitment. You need to be sure about these things.”
Harry looked at her. “Being unsure, is that why you and Ron…?”
She blushed. “It’s part of it, besides the cheating thing,” she admitted.
Harry nodded uncomfortably, and they arrived in the Great Hall.
O
Amorell had not been fired. Apparently, her quick response to the “emergency” situation in their class had been enough to override any doubt the ministry had about her teaching skills.
That, in a word, sucked. But Draco was able to look on the bright side: he’d still be partnered with Granger for the rest of the year. What a lovely compromise.
Speaking of whom, he had a flower for her, but he hadn’t quite figured out a method for delivering it to her. He couldn’t just leave it on her doorstep, not unless he wanted everyone to know about it, which he most definitely didn’t. These flowers were for her eyes only.
So what would it be? Opening her bedroom door, braving the awful itch, and throwing it on her bed in hope that she didn’t squash it when she laid down to sleep? Accidentally bumping into her in the hallway, causing her to drop her bag, and slipping it in surreptitiously along with one of her books? Owl it to her? Hope that he could get her alone and then just give her the bloody thing?
This being romantic thing was an absolute pain.
Once dinner was over, he watched her stand and exit the Great Hall, and he tried to act as casually as possible as he left a few seconds after her.
She was alone, thank Merlin. He very carefully removed the flower from his bag and held it in his right hand.
O
Hermione almost jolted when she felt the sudden soft coolness of petals and leaves being pressed into her hand, and she looked up to see Malfoy walking by her, looking completely at ease. For one half of a second, his fingers had brushed against her own.
What was it about his fingers that made her breath hitch in her throat and her heart start racing?
She glanced around, checking to make sure no one was paying her any attention before she took a glance at the flower tucked into her palm. It was a vine flower, similar to a vetch or a pea plant. During her perusal of the flower list, she’d wondered if he might send her a kennedia, and so he had. It meant, simply, intellectual beauty.
She wasn’t sure what to do anymore. These flowers. These rotten, romantic, thoughtful flowers. What was a girl supposed to do when she was being wooed by a boy she didn’t want to like in a manner that was too-she couldn’t find a better word-sweet to ignore?
Intellectual beauty! It made her almost want to laugh and sob in the same breath. Goodness knew she wasn’t one of the girls who fussed constantly over their looks, and she certainly was known for her brains. So what did it mean exactly? That she was only beautiful on the inside? That her intellect was beautiful? Was she merely blowing things out of proportion?
She took a breath, letting it out slowly. Sooner or later, this coquetry was going to have to stop. Or else… or else something else would have to happen, and she couldn’t allow it.
O
The first thing Draco noticed when he woke that morning was the sun shining brightly in through the bewitched windows in their dormitory. Even fake sun was better than no sun at all, and he stood there staring out for five minutes until he heard Thomas start rustling through his trunk in search of a clean robe.
He missed the sun, even if he weren’t exactly well-known for basking in it due to his years in the dungeons and his pale skin. He hadn’t been playing Quidditch, so he’d been more cooped up in the castle than usual, and even the nonexistent warmth of the fake rays were enough to make him feel marginally optimistic about the day. Fake vitamin d was better than none at all, apparently.
And so, here it was. A Monday. And Mondays meant one thing: Good Grief class.
Why that suddenly made him smile, he hadn’t the foggiest.
O
“Hello, Eighth Years,” Amorell greeted, walking into the classroom with a skip in her step and settling onto the edge of her desk. She was barefoot today, which struck Hermione as odd considering the cold stone floor. “Lovely day,” she continued, “so I thought I’d offer a little break from the norm. Today you’ll be spending time with your partners.” She smiled sweetly at them.
Hermione raised her hand. “Isn’t that what we’ve been doing? How is that a ‘break from the norm?’”
“Oh, Miss Granger, always so inquisitive. But to answer your question, you’ll all be leaving the classroom.” She got up and tapped her wand briskly against the blackboard. “And you’ll be trying to find one of each of these items.”
Hermione blinked at the list on the board. A scavenger hunt?
“I suggest you copy these down. You’ll have till the end of class, and any couple who finds all of the items will be rewarded with a small prize. Oh, and yes, Miss Moon, you will be partnering with me,” she added, effectively freezing August’s hand mid-raise. Professor Amorell tapped the board again, and another line was added at the bottom of the list, beside an asterisk. Absolutely no use of magic to find, retrieve, or create these items. Please leave all wands in the classroom.
Ahead of her, Malfoy looked slightly relieved, tucking his wand into his school bag before joining her. “Got them down?” he asked, plucking her parchment out of her hand. “Any idea where to find a piece of mistletoe after Christmas?” Was it her imagination, or was there a sparkle in his eye as he asked?
“Oak tree,” she croaked, her cheeks growing suddenly and inexplicably red. “It grows wild in oak trees.”
“Right,” he said, nodding. “Best get started then. After you.” He gestured toward the door.
From experience, Hermione was already aware of the fact that being alone with Draco Malfoy tended to produce strange results. For example, there were goose bumps on the back of her neck. Also, there was the urge to run, which was contrasted by the fact that he was currently acting surprisingly gentlemanly, opening the classroom door for her and following her out.
The sound of the others’ voices faded as they continued down the hall, and Hermione was becoming acutely aware of the clip-clap of their footsteps bouncing in echo from floor to ceiling. Awkward might have been a gentle way of describing how it felt to be alone with him. Again. It was easier when she could avoid him or hide in the comfort of a group, but at the moment she was stuck with him for the duration of the class.
They reached the Entrance Hall, and Malfoy pulled one of the double doors open to the outside, and they both blinked into the bright light. There were a couple of wispy clouds, but otherwise the sky was clear, and as they walked out onto the grounds, Hermione breathed in a breath of the crisp air, even as the sun beat down on her cheeks. She could have just stood there and let the rare weather soak into her if she could, but they had a job to do.
O
They bent around the lake, which had a thin layer of ice covering the surface still from the last freeze, and Granger paused to pick a smooth, white stone with pink veins from the shore, crossing it off of their list. “Quartz,” she murmured. “Actually, quartzite, but it’ll do.” She nodded to herself and tucked it into her cloak pocket.
“What else do we need to find?” he asked, watching her from the side.
She shoved a lock of her hair behind her ear, her hand shaking slightly. “A gobstone, a pheasant quill, a flobberworm of all things, and a tuft of fur. I can get the last two from Hagrid without much difficulty.”
“Or from your cat, fur-wise,” he pointed out. “And we’re in luck. I happen to have a set of gobstones and a pheasant quill back in my room.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised.” They stopped short when they’d arrived at a large oak tree, and she pointed up at a cluster in the branches. “Mistletoe.”
Draco frowned, looking up at the poisonous, parasitic clump of yuletide gaiety. “Bit high to reach without magic, isn’t it?” He walked a few paces to the left before catching sight of a lower one, and he reached an arm up, jumping experimentally. It was still a bit too high up. “Any suggestions?”
Granger bit her lip, looking around them. “I suppose one of us could try to climb the tree, except, well,” she gestured, allowing her idea to trail off. The trunk was wide, and there wasn’t a V to act as a foothold until just above his head.
“Hmm.”
O
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Hermione asked as Malfoy stared at her with his lips curled together to the side of his face in an expression of deep-thought.
He smiled slightly. “You like to raise your arm, don’t you, Granger?”
Hermione shifted her weight. “Your point?”
He tapped his chin. “I see two possibilities, but I’m not sure how much you’ll like either of them. I can either help you up into the tree, so you can climb out and snag a handful or I could lift you up from down here. Your choice.” Hermione felt herself freeze. “Or I suppose you could lift me up, but I’m not too partial to falling over, even if I would be falling onto you.” That was enough to snap her out of her temporary stupor and glower at him.
“Since we don’t have a pair of long-handled shears, I suppose I’ll have to agree to one of your options,” she snipped.
“And which one might that be?” he asked, smirking dandily.
She stepped across the cold earth, only a thin layer of snow scattered about, and paused to survey the clump of mistletoe in question. “I’m not especially good at climbing,” she admitted. “So… so I guess you’ll have to lift me up a bit from here.” When she’d turned back to him, though, his smirk hadn’t grown the way she’d expected it to. Instead he took three steps forward until they were both under the mistletoe, and the implication of their position wasn’t exactly lost on her.
“Well, then. You might want to take off your cloak.” Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. “Because I don’t very well want it flopping into my face,” he added. “Same goes for your robe, if you don’t mind.”
It was at this moment that Hermione became extremely grateful that she’d chosen to wear trousers instead of a skirt today, and she blushed as she laid her hulky cloak and her robe in a pile. Why she’d chosen a short-sleeved shirt today was now beyond her. Sun or no sun, it was still nippy out. He bent down on one knee before her-another implication that she wasn’t entirely blind to-and held his hands in criss-cross for her to use as a step. “Hold onto my shoulder,” he instructed, and she stepped onto his hand, and suddenly, he’d straightened so that she was several feet off the ground, balancing precariously. Her freehand reached up and gave a tug at one of the green shoots, a leaf or so falling to the ground before she managed to break off a piece. With her extra tug though, she’d lost some of her footing, and before she knew it, she was slipping down through the circle of Malfoy’s arms until she landed squarely in front of him.
His hands were at either side of her ribcage, and Hermione’s breath caught in her throat and didn’t seem to want to come back. He looked down at her, seeming just as surprised by their sudden position as she felt.
“I…” she began, and made a sudden scramble to get away from him, but his grip tightened.
“Do I scare you so much?” he asked, his thumbs gliding over her ribs in lazy arcs.
“Well, it’s just….” She stopped, a lump in her throat.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, staring down at her, “about that prophecy.” The prophecy? “And you know what I realized? It’s worded rather oddly. You see, Trelawney said we’d fall in love, but she didn’t necessarily say it would be with one another. She also said it would be by the end of the year. Funny how we both took that to mean the end of the school year.”
Hermione opened her mouth-he was right. He was absolutely right. He adjusted his hold on her and moved a finger to her lips.
“So you see, we wouldn’t be proving her right. Not really.” He lowered his head. “So… please?”
Hermione was breathing hollowly by now, her breaths coming with great difficulty.
Without breaking eye contact with her, he picked up her left hand and pressed a kiss into her palm, and Hermione felt a jolt go straight down her middle. He gave her fingers a squeeze before moving his lips to the inner crook of her elbow, lingering a moment on the bare curve of her bicep. He took a step even closer to her, and then his lips pressed lightly to the corner of her left shoulder before descending upon the juncture between her shoulder and neck. Like lightning, goose bumps washed over her right leg, and he drew back, a hand on each of her shoulders, looking at her.
Her breath wasn’t coming at all as Malfoy threaded his fingers into the hair at the base of her skull to cradle her head. She felt utterly hypnotized and could only stand there, breath coming wispishly as his head lowered, and for the first time in either real life or daydream, his lips pressed into hers.
The mistletoe dropped from her hand onto the snow-specked ground.
O
They were kissing. His fingers were warm as they cradled the back of her head, where the hairs grew soft, unexposed to the elements.
He remembered these lips. The curve of the upper and the pout of the lower. The way they were unadorned. He tentatively melded his own to hers, softness sinking into softness, warmth into warmth.
Her hands had been at her sides, but she raised them to hold either side of his ribcage in mirror to how he’d been holding her moments earlier.
Their noses rubbed against one another as he opened his mouth the slightest bit, nibbling his lips around hers.
There had been a time not so long ago when he would have scoffed at the idea that she was the girl he’d want to hold. But here he was now, cherishing her… savoring her. If this never ended, it would be too soon.
There was a whimper from her, and he moved gently to the corner of her mouth to allow her a breath before kissing her with added vigor, his head tilted to the side. She shivered, and he lowered one of his arms to press her into him.
Draco didn’t know anything of the afterlife, where the soul went when it had been banished. But Heaven, he thought, must be something like kissing Hermione Granger.
A.N. This chapter gave me trouble you would not believe. But they kissed! Yippee! So I’m making a deal with you all. I’m posting this a bit earlier than I normally would, and I’m asking that you allow me a few weeks off to write twenty pages for school. Yes. Twenty.
<< >>
Please click the tag for a list of chapters.
Author: Marmalade Fever
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, and more.
Genres: Romance, Drama, weird combo of in-Hogwarts and post-Hogwarts, and Humor. I can't write a fanfic without humor leaking its way in.
Spoilers: DH (though no epilogue)
Overall Rating: PG-13
Summary: Up from the ashes of seventh year grow the roses of the eighth. Eight students return for their final year at Hogwarts, and Hermione Granger would never have thought Draco Malfoy would or could be one of those roses.
8 & 8th-Chapter 21-An Upward Spiral in a Downward Fall
“That was weird,” Harry commented as he joined Hermione on their way to dinner one Sunday evening.
“What was?” She was trying to walk and study her NEWT preparation guide at the same time, and multi-tasking any more might just be harmful for her health-should she walk into a wall, that is
“Malfoy. I was in the boys’ dorm and he came walking out of the loo with a flower in his hand!” He snorted. “Like I said, weird.”
Hermione blinked. “A flower?” she asked, her pulse starting to race. “The loo?”
“I know! I wonder where he got it from. Maybe he picked it from the greenhouse and was giving it some water.” Harry made a face. “Doesn’t make any sense any way you look at it. Unless….” He gave her a meaningful look and a wink.
“Please don’t suggest he picked it to give to me,” she groaned. Ever since Ron had punched Malfoy, Ginny and Harry had been taking every advantage they could to find proof that a certain blond-haired git fancied her, even if most of their observations were their idea of a joke.
Hermione thanked Merlin and anyone else that they were not taking the idea too seriously. They’d been riled up at first, but now they seemed to find it funny and nothing else.
“Well, if you find a flower at some point, you’ll know where it came from,” he teased. She most certainly would.
Ron was currently away for another brutal practice session to prepare for a game against the Holyhead Harpies, which was, curiously enough, scheduled for Valentine’s Day, which was now only a couple of weeks away. In general, Hermione had to admit that life was much less stressful for her when he was away. She still had to room with August, but luckily the other girl wasn’t one to drone on and on about her boyfriend in front of his ex-girlfriend.
Hermione was happy for them… sort of. It was nice to see Ron moving on after she’d ended their relationship so abruptly. He did deserve love, she just wasn’t sure she was the best person to give it to him. But the green-eyed monster wasn’t so easily tamed.
She gave up trying to read, think, walk, and talk to Harry at the same time, and lowered her NEWT guide just in time to see Padma approaching them.
“I cannot believe it!” she seethed, clutching a letter in her hand and shaking it.
“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked carefully. A fuming Padma, she’d learned, was not the easiest person to get along with.
Padma took a large breath and let it out slowly. “I’m going to be an aunt,” she stated, crossing her arms and waiting for either of them to comment.
Harry opened his mouth and closed it, looking to Hermione for guidance. “Parvati?” Hermione asked.
“Parvati,” Padma confirmed. She slid one of her hands over her face. “She’s not even nineteen yet and she’s married and having a baby and hasn’t finished her schooling! And she’s living in the States! What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s… in love?” Harry guessed.
Padma threw him an angry look. “I just don’t get how she can be so stupid. They barely dated. They as good as eloped. And he’s eight years older than us! How can she think that being so… so frivolous can be a good idea?” she spat. “I know her and I know she’s going to regret this, and it’s already too late! I swear, I’m going to date my future husband for at least three years before I tie the knot!” And with that, Padma stormed off down the hallway.
“She’s so… supportive,” Harry murmured.
Hermione nodded in agreement. “I can see where she’s coming from, though,” she admitted. “We’re still awfully young, and marriage is a big commitment. You need to be sure about these things.”
Harry looked at her. “Being unsure, is that why you and Ron…?”
She blushed. “It’s part of it, besides the cheating thing,” she admitted.
Harry nodded uncomfortably, and they arrived in the Great Hall.
O
Amorell had not been fired. Apparently, her quick response to the “emergency” situation in their class had been enough to override any doubt the ministry had about her teaching skills.
That, in a word, sucked. But Draco was able to look on the bright side: he’d still be partnered with Granger for the rest of the year. What a lovely compromise.
Speaking of whom, he had a flower for her, but he hadn’t quite figured out a method for delivering it to her. He couldn’t just leave it on her doorstep, not unless he wanted everyone to know about it, which he most definitely didn’t. These flowers were for her eyes only.
So what would it be? Opening her bedroom door, braving the awful itch, and throwing it on her bed in hope that she didn’t squash it when she laid down to sleep? Accidentally bumping into her in the hallway, causing her to drop her bag, and slipping it in surreptitiously along with one of her books? Owl it to her? Hope that he could get her alone and then just give her the bloody thing?
This being romantic thing was an absolute pain.
Once dinner was over, he watched her stand and exit the Great Hall, and he tried to act as casually as possible as he left a few seconds after her.
She was alone, thank Merlin. He very carefully removed the flower from his bag and held it in his right hand.
O
Hermione almost jolted when she felt the sudden soft coolness of petals and leaves being pressed into her hand, and she looked up to see Malfoy walking by her, looking completely at ease. For one half of a second, his fingers had brushed against her own.
What was it about his fingers that made her breath hitch in her throat and her heart start racing?
She glanced around, checking to make sure no one was paying her any attention before she took a glance at the flower tucked into her palm. It was a vine flower, similar to a vetch or a pea plant. During her perusal of the flower list, she’d wondered if he might send her a kennedia, and so he had. It meant, simply, intellectual beauty.
She wasn’t sure what to do anymore. These flowers. These rotten, romantic, thoughtful flowers. What was a girl supposed to do when she was being wooed by a boy she didn’t want to like in a manner that was too-she couldn’t find a better word-sweet to ignore?
Intellectual beauty! It made her almost want to laugh and sob in the same breath. Goodness knew she wasn’t one of the girls who fussed constantly over their looks, and she certainly was known for her brains. So what did it mean exactly? That she was only beautiful on the inside? That her intellect was beautiful? Was she merely blowing things out of proportion?
She took a breath, letting it out slowly. Sooner or later, this coquetry was going to have to stop. Or else… or else something else would have to happen, and she couldn’t allow it.
O
The first thing Draco noticed when he woke that morning was the sun shining brightly in through the bewitched windows in their dormitory. Even fake sun was better than no sun at all, and he stood there staring out for five minutes until he heard Thomas start rustling through his trunk in search of a clean robe.
He missed the sun, even if he weren’t exactly well-known for basking in it due to his years in the dungeons and his pale skin. He hadn’t been playing Quidditch, so he’d been more cooped up in the castle than usual, and even the nonexistent warmth of the fake rays were enough to make him feel marginally optimistic about the day. Fake vitamin d was better than none at all, apparently.
And so, here it was. A Monday. And Mondays meant one thing: Good Grief class.
Why that suddenly made him smile, he hadn’t the foggiest.
O
“Hello, Eighth Years,” Amorell greeted, walking into the classroom with a skip in her step and settling onto the edge of her desk. She was barefoot today, which struck Hermione as odd considering the cold stone floor. “Lovely day,” she continued, “so I thought I’d offer a little break from the norm. Today you’ll be spending time with your partners.” She smiled sweetly at them.
Hermione raised her hand. “Isn’t that what we’ve been doing? How is that a ‘break from the norm?’”
“Oh, Miss Granger, always so inquisitive. But to answer your question, you’ll all be leaving the classroom.” She got up and tapped her wand briskly against the blackboard. “And you’ll be trying to find one of each of these items.”
Hermione blinked at the list on the board. A scavenger hunt?
“I suggest you copy these down. You’ll have till the end of class, and any couple who finds all of the items will be rewarded with a small prize. Oh, and yes, Miss Moon, you will be partnering with me,” she added, effectively freezing August’s hand mid-raise. Professor Amorell tapped the board again, and another line was added at the bottom of the list, beside an asterisk. Absolutely no use of magic to find, retrieve, or create these items. Please leave all wands in the classroom.
Ahead of her, Malfoy looked slightly relieved, tucking his wand into his school bag before joining her. “Got them down?” he asked, plucking her parchment out of her hand. “Any idea where to find a piece of mistletoe after Christmas?” Was it her imagination, or was there a sparkle in his eye as he asked?
“Oak tree,” she croaked, her cheeks growing suddenly and inexplicably red. “It grows wild in oak trees.”
“Right,” he said, nodding. “Best get started then. After you.” He gestured toward the door.
From experience, Hermione was already aware of the fact that being alone with Draco Malfoy tended to produce strange results. For example, there were goose bumps on the back of her neck. Also, there was the urge to run, which was contrasted by the fact that he was currently acting surprisingly gentlemanly, opening the classroom door for her and following her out.
The sound of the others’ voices faded as they continued down the hall, and Hermione was becoming acutely aware of the clip-clap of their footsteps bouncing in echo from floor to ceiling. Awkward might have been a gentle way of describing how it felt to be alone with him. Again. It was easier when she could avoid him or hide in the comfort of a group, but at the moment she was stuck with him for the duration of the class.
They reached the Entrance Hall, and Malfoy pulled one of the double doors open to the outside, and they both blinked into the bright light. There were a couple of wispy clouds, but otherwise the sky was clear, and as they walked out onto the grounds, Hermione breathed in a breath of the crisp air, even as the sun beat down on her cheeks. She could have just stood there and let the rare weather soak into her if she could, but they had a job to do.
O
They bent around the lake, which had a thin layer of ice covering the surface still from the last freeze, and Granger paused to pick a smooth, white stone with pink veins from the shore, crossing it off of their list. “Quartz,” she murmured. “Actually, quartzite, but it’ll do.” She nodded to herself and tucked it into her cloak pocket.
“What else do we need to find?” he asked, watching her from the side.
She shoved a lock of her hair behind her ear, her hand shaking slightly. “A gobstone, a pheasant quill, a flobberworm of all things, and a tuft of fur. I can get the last two from Hagrid without much difficulty.”
“Or from your cat, fur-wise,” he pointed out. “And we’re in luck. I happen to have a set of gobstones and a pheasant quill back in my room.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised.” They stopped short when they’d arrived at a large oak tree, and she pointed up at a cluster in the branches. “Mistletoe.”
Draco frowned, looking up at the poisonous, parasitic clump of yuletide gaiety. “Bit high to reach without magic, isn’t it?” He walked a few paces to the left before catching sight of a lower one, and he reached an arm up, jumping experimentally. It was still a bit too high up. “Any suggestions?”
Granger bit her lip, looking around them. “I suppose one of us could try to climb the tree, except, well,” she gestured, allowing her idea to trail off. The trunk was wide, and there wasn’t a V to act as a foothold until just above his head.
“Hmm.”
O
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Hermione asked as Malfoy stared at her with his lips curled together to the side of his face in an expression of deep-thought.
He smiled slightly. “You like to raise your arm, don’t you, Granger?”
Hermione shifted her weight. “Your point?”
He tapped his chin. “I see two possibilities, but I’m not sure how much you’ll like either of them. I can either help you up into the tree, so you can climb out and snag a handful or I could lift you up from down here. Your choice.” Hermione felt herself freeze. “Or I suppose you could lift me up, but I’m not too partial to falling over, even if I would be falling onto you.” That was enough to snap her out of her temporary stupor and glower at him.
“Since we don’t have a pair of long-handled shears, I suppose I’ll have to agree to one of your options,” she snipped.
“And which one might that be?” he asked, smirking dandily.
She stepped across the cold earth, only a thin layer of snow scattered about, and paused to survey the clump of mistletoe in question. “I’m not especially good at climbing,” she admitted. “So… so I guess you’ll have to lift me up a bit from here.” When she’d turned back to him, though, his smirk hadn’t grown the way she’d expected it to. Instead he took three steps forward until they were both under the mistletoe, and the implication of their position wasn’t exactly lost on her.
“Well, then. You might want to take off your cloak.” Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. “Because I don’t very well want it flopping into my face,” he added. “Same goes for your robe, if you don’t mind.”
It was at this moment that Hermione became extremely grateful that she’d chosen to wear trousers instead of a skirt today, and she blushed as she laid her hulky cloak and her robe in a pile. Why she’d chosen a short-sleeved shirt today was now beyond her. Sun or no sun, it was still nippy out. He bent down on one knee before her-another implication that she wasn’t entirely blind to-and held his hands in criss-cross for her to use as a step. “Hold onto my shoulder,” he instructed, and she stepped onto his hand, and suddenly, he’d straightened so that she was several feet off the ground, balancing precariously. Her freehand reached up and gave a tug at one of the green shoots, a leaf or so falling to the ground before she managed to break off a piece. With her extra tug though, she’d lost some of her footing, and before she knew it, she was slipping down through the circle of Malfoy’s arms until she landed squarely in front of him.
His hands were at either side of her ribcage, and Hermione’s breath caught in her throat and didn’t seem to want to come back. He looked down at her, seeming just as surprised by their sudden position as she felt.
“I…” she began, and made a sudden scramble to get away from him, but his grip tightened.
“Do I scare you so much?” he asked, his thumbs gliding over her ribs in lazy arcs.
“Well, it’s just….” She stopped, a lump in her throat.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, staring down at her, “about that prophecy.” The prophecy? “And you know what I realized? It’s worded rather oddly. You see, Trelawney said we’d fall in love, but she didn’t necessarily say it would be with one another. She also said it would be by the end of the year. Funny how we both took that to mean the end of the school year.”
Hermione opened her mouth-he was right. He was absolutely right. He adjusted his hold on her and moved a finger to her lips.
“So you see, we wouldn’t be proving her right. Not really.” He lowered his head. “So… please?”
Hermione was breathing hollowly by now, her breaths coming with great difficulty.
Without breaking eye contact with her, he picked up her left hand and pressed a kiss into her palm, and Hermione felt a jolt go straight down her middle. He gave her fingers a squeeze before moving his lips to the inner crook of her elbow, lingering a moment on the bare curve of her bicep. He took a step even closer to her, and then his lips pressed lightly to the corner of her left shoulder before descending upon the juncture between her shoulder and neck. Like lightning, goose bumps washed over her right leg, and he drew back, a hand on each of her shoulders, looking at her.
Her breath wasn’t coming at all as Malfoy threaded his fingers into the hair at the base of her skull to cradle her head. She felt utterly hypnotized and could only stand there, breath coming wispishly as his head lowered, and for the first time in either real life or daydream, his lips pressed into hers.
The mistletoe dropped from her hand onto the snow-specked ground.
O
They were kissing. His fingers were warm as they cradled the back of her head, where the hairs grew soft, unexposed to the elements.
He remembered these lips. The curve of the upper and the pout of the lower. The way they were unadorned. He tentatively melded his own to hers, softness sinking into softness, warmth into warmth.
Her hands had been at her sides, but she raised them to hold either side of his ribcage in mirror to how he’d been holding her moments earlier.
Their noses rubbed against one another as he opened his mouth the slightest bit, nibbling his lips around hers.
There had been a time not so long ago when he would have scoffed at the idea that she was the girl he’d want to hold. But here he was now, cherishing her… savoring her. If this never ended, it would be too soon.
There was a whimper from her, and he moved gently to the corner of her mouth to allow her a breath before kissing her with added vigor, his head tilted to the side. She shivered, and he lowered one of his arms to press her into him.
Draco didn’t know anything of the afterlife, where the soul went when it had been banished. But Heaven, he thought, must be something like kissing Hermione Granger.
A.N. This chapter gave me trouble you would not believe. But they kissed! Yippee! So I’m making a deal with you all. I’m posting this a bit earlier than I normally would, and I’m asking that you allow me a few weeks off to write twenty pages for school. Yes. Twenty.
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