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As she patrolled the fifth-floor corridor, Hermione Granger was undoubtedly irritated. It wasn’t the prefect’s rounds that irritated her; it wasn’t that she was tired and ached for her four-poster bed; it wasn’t even that she had to patrol with Draco Malfoy. What irritated her was the annoying slurping and licking sounds that he kept making while he sucked on that damned sugar quill. In what world does he think that it is appropriate to consume a sugar quill with such excessive noises?
Malfoy had kept at it all night long, and they still had one more hour left of their patrol before Hermione could float herself up to the Gryffindor Common Room. Yet that stupid sugar quill seemed to be infinite.
She had put every ounce of her strength into ignoring how he sucked on that stupid candy. Her efforts were fruitless, though. With each empty corridor that they rounded, the sound of his licking bounced off the walls and up and down from the floor to the ceiling, reverberating in her eardrums until she couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Could you stop that?” she finally snapped at the blond Slytherin prefect.
He ceased walking and glared at her, as if it was an insult that she, a Mudblood , would dare speak to him.
“What’s gotten into you?” he snarled at her.
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “You keep making those ungodly noises with your mouth, and it’s disgusting.”
Malfoy’s eyes widened before he let a smirk play on his lips. “Nothing I do with my mouth is disgusting, Granger. I’m sure you’d just like a taste of it. Too bad I don’t like the taste of Mudbloods.”
Hermione’s mouth dropped open in shock before she was able to snap back a retort.
“If you don’t like the taste of Mudblood, that means you’ve already tried it,” she sneered.
“Jealous?” he mocked as he continued to lick on his sugar quill.
“Please, I hope you would choke on that stupid quill, and then I could live my life in peace.”
Hermione heard a soft groan and felt a warm grip take hold of her wrist. Before she was able to understand what was happening, she was pinned to a corridor wall, with soft even breaths hitting her face and deep mercury eyes staring down at her.
“Look, Granger,” he spoke, his voice low in the empty corridor, “as much as I would like to believe you wish I’d choke, I’ve noticed how you stare at me, in classes, at the library, and even during Quidditch games.”
Hermione’s breath caught. It was true, she did spend an embarrassing amount of time looking at him. She spent an even more embarrassing amount of time trying to convince herself that he wasn’t the slightest bit attractive — which was pointless because there was no denying how ridiculously handsome he was.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Let me go, Malfoy.”
Red ran up her cheeks at the dread of how her voice broke as she tried to sound menacing. His lips slowly curled into a malicious smile.
“Am I making you nervous, Granger?” he drawled. “Is your heart thumping in your little chest because of my proximity?”
Hermione was sure he could count her eyelashes with how close to her he was standing. In his nearness, she could even hear the beating of his heart in his chest. She tried to wrestle her hand free so that she could reach for her wand, but he held her tightly.
“Let’s make a bet, Granger.” He spoke so softly, she could hardly believe it was his voice directed at her.
“Why would I make a bet with you?” This time, her voice didn’t break, and she felt a rush of Gryffindor bravery take over when she was able to pull her hand away.
She started to walk away, but he quickly followed.
“Because if Gryffindor wins the Quidditch match tomorrow, I will switch prefect patrols with Weasley for the rest of term.”
Hermione stopped dead in her walk. Under the present schedule, she had to patrol with Malfoy twice a week, so this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. As long as they had been at Hogwarts, Gryffindor had never lost a match against Slytherin. Odds were in favor of another Lion victory, which would mean she wouldn’t have to endure Malfoy’s pointy attractive face nor his gorgeous grey eyes so often.
Malfoy had been civil to her once or twice during their patrols. Occasionally, he was able to hold a decent debate with her about their assignments, or even about the rights of different magical species. He would only grow nasty if she cornered him and he had no way of going around her arguments. It was then that he would resort to name calling and insults. Other than that, patrolling with him wasn’t as bad as she had initially dreaded.
But the chance to patrol with Ron, one of her best friends…
She looked him straight in the eye. “Deal.”
His smirk grew into a nasty grin, and his eyes flickered with malice.
“You haven’t heard what I get if I win.”
Hermione turned around and continued her walk up the corridor, waving her hand in the air, like she was swatting away his words.
“I don’t have to. Slytherin hasn’t won against Gryffindor since Harry became Seeker first year,” she answered matter of factly, back still facing him. “But if you’d like to amuse me, by all means, go ahead.”
Malfoy’s low drawl reached her from behind.“If Slytherin wins, I get to snog you.”
Hermione stopped walking once more, this time frozen in place. She shifted to look at him. A smile rested on his lips as if he’d already won the bet.
“As if you’d really want to snog me.”
He laughed, a loud cackling laugh that reverberated across the empty corridor.
“I don’t want to snog you, Granger.” he spoke, that malicious grin still playing on his features. “I want to prove to you the amazing things my mouth can do. Leave you frazzled.”
She crossed her arms indignantly. “Deal.”
His lips twitched and his eyes darkened.
“You won’t regret this, Granger.”
When Hermione arrived at the Great Hall the next day for breakfast, she was surrounded by the Gryffindor Quidditch team. All seven crimson clad figures walked with their faces held high. It would be the first match with Harry as captain, and they had been training excessively over the past few weeks.
The team members all took seats at the table while their fellow housemates’ applause thundered inside the Great Hall. She sat next to Harry and across from Ron and Ginny, permitting a perfect view of the Slytherin table. Hermione noticed that the Slytherin team had not arrived for breakfast yet. It made her stomach uneasy. What if Malfoy was planning something?
“Ron, you need to eat.” Harry’s words brought her back to the Gryffindor table as Harry piled food onto Ron’s empty plate.
“I’m not hungry,” Ron argued, a clear warning sign.
“It’s the first Quidditch game. The Slytherins probably arranged another nasty rendition of that awful song from last year, so you need to prove them wrong again. Eat, or you won’t be able to keep your strength up.” Harry seemed to think his arguments weren’t valid enough because after a moment, he added, “That’s an order from your captain.”
Ron grimaced at Harry before he started picking at his food.
“You’ll be fine, Ron,” Ginny told him as she reached for some bacon and eggs. “You’ve been doing great at practice, and the Slytherin Chasers aren’t that good.”
“Thanks for the support, but-“ Ron stopped halfway through his sentence and glared at something behind Hermione. His eyes turned to narrow slits. “What are you doing here, Malfoy?”
Hermione’s head snapped up from her breakfast, and she whipped around. Sure enough, Draco Malfoy was standing right behind her, his arms hidden behind his back and a smirk covering his features.
“Merlin, Weasel, didn’t they teach you manners? Good morning to you too.” His eyes flickered to Hermione’s face, and she felt herself burn red. “Just came to bring something for Granger.”
He slowly brought his hands to the front, and Hermione almost gasped when he rested the item on her shoulders and wrapped it once around her neck — a green and silver Slytherin scarf . She was too frozen in shock to stop him.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“Seeing as you’re rooting for Slytherin today, you might as well wear our colors.”
“I’m not rooting for Slytherin!” As soon as he stepped away from her, Hermione tugged at the scarf, but she couldn’t take it off. A flame of outrage fired in her chest. “What did you do to this, Malfoy?”
“It’s charmed, Granger. You won’t be able to take it off until someone catches the Snitch,” he explained smugly, before walking away from the lions’ table and joining his team.
Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the Gryffindor team stared at her in bewilderment.
“What was that?” Ginny asked.
“Malfoy being a prat.” Hermione answered. She kept tugging at the scarf around her neck, but it didn’t budge. Her frustration reached a new peak. “Get this off me, Harry!”
Harry looked at her for a moment before he tried to pry the scarf away from Hermione, but the scarf only seemed to tighten around her, like a snake. Harry took his wand from his robe pocket and pointed it at the offending object.
“ Finite Incantatem .”
Nothing happened.
“That was supposed to work.” Harry said, running his hand through his hair.
Hermione’s fists clenched around the scarf.
“That stupid ferret!” Hermione growled. “He must have cast a charm against the Finite !”
Ron, whose face had turned as red as his hair, glared at Hermione. “What was that about?”
Hermione slumped her shoulders. “I just really need Gryffindor to win the match today.” Her voice was small when she spoke. “If you win, Malfoy will switch patrols with you.”
Ron gaped. “What happens if we lose?”
Hermione looked down at her plate, her cheeks burning red. She shook her head slowly.
“We won’t lose,” Harry contended, placing his arm around Hermione’s shoulders and glaring at Ron. “And I’ll do my best to make it a quick victory so we can get that scarf off of you as soon as possible.”
They finished their breakfast without speaking much more and headed to the Quidditch pitch, Hermione flanked by her two best friends.
She waved goodbye and wished them both good luck before heading up the stands and finding her usual seat next to Neville. He eyed her curiously and seemed to want to ask about her unexpected choice in accessory, when Luna’s magnified voice announced that the players were walking onto the field.
Hermione looked down at the pitch as fourteen red and green figures met at its center. Harry and Malfoy, heading both groups, shook hands and exchanged words. Even from far away, she could make out Malfoy’s smirk and saw Harry tense before glancing at her in the stands.
Before Hermione had fully processed the interaction, the sharp whistle from Madam Hooch pierced through the pitch, and the players kicked their brooms into the sky.
“And it begins. It’s no surprise that Ginny got her hands on the Quaffle first. She’s a very skilled Chaser,” Luna’s commentary began.
Hermione kept looking between Harry and Malfoy. They were circling each other over the pitch like predators stalking their prey.
“Ginny passes to Katie, and Katie scores!” A roar of cheering erupted from the Gryffindor end of the pitch. “That’s ten-zero to Gryffindor!”
Katie and Ginny high fived each other in mid-air as one of the Slytherin Chasers took possession of the Quaffle and zoomed towards Ron.
“Ron Weasley is returning as Gryffindor Keeper for his second year. He had some difficulties last year, so I do hope he stops this score.” Luna’s comment was met with jeering from the Slytherins before a cheer from the Gryffindors. “Demelza Robbins intercepts a pass from Slytherin, steals the Quaffle, and is on her way to score!”
Demelza passed to Katie, who in turn passed to Ginny, who zipped towards Urquhart, before-
“Goyle hits Ginny Weasley with a Bludger to the back. That’s not very nice!”
Hermione lit up in alarm for her friend and found that Harry, frozen in the air, was also staring at Ginny. To her horror, though, she then noticed Malfoy speeding towards the Gryffindor goal posts.
“HARRY!” Her yell was raw and loud enough for Harry to look up as she pointed towards Malfoy.
Harry quickly darted towards the goalposts, a race for the key to victory. Yet before either one could snag the Snitch, a Bludger swept past Malfoy, making him whirl and lose course.
Malfoy seemed to exclaim something to himself while Harry glanced around the pitch in pursuit of where the Snitch had gone. Apparently, though, it had disappeared from sight again.
The game went on with three more goals for Gryffindor and two for Slytherin. Harry and Malfoy each seemed to think they had seen the Snitch at least once, but both were false alarms.
Suddenly Hermione saw Harry shoot towards the Gryffindor stands.
“It seems like Harry’s seen the Snitch!” Luna squealed.
Hermione held her breath as Harry flew closer to the golden prize, but a sinking feeling settled in her gut when she noticed that Malfoy was already closer to the Gryffindor stands. Malfoy appeared to trail his eyes towards where Harry’s attention was trained and a glimmer of gold glinted close to the base of the stands. Malfoy flew towards it. Harry caught up.
The whole stadium seemed to be frozen in anticipation as Harry and Malfoy raced neck and neck. Malfoy stretched out his arm, so did Harry, and they collided before Hermione got a clear look at who had been able to snap his hand shut over the tiny ball first.
“Who’s got it?” Luna’s magnified voice asked over the yells and gasps across the stands.
Harry touched down on the ground and peered up in the direction of Hermione, defeat etched across his features. Her face paled considerably, only growing blancher when Malfoy flew up towards the Gryffindor stands. He hopped off his broomstick right in front of her and opened his hand to reveal the Snitch.
“I don’t understand what Malfoy is doing, but it seems like Slytherin’s won the match!” Luna finally announced, and the Slytherins started to cheer.
With his free hand, he tilted her head up. He stared deep into her eyes, and she felt her cheeks burn red. Gray, exhilarated eyes met brown, panicked ones. She stiffened and held her breath, but she didn’t do anything to stop him. The surrounding pitch went quiet.
As soon as their lips met, it was as if her mouth was on fire, a very pleasant fire. She was lost in the sensation when he moved his hand to cup the back of her head while the one he was using to hold the Snitch found itself to her waist. As he pulled her closer, her body relaxed and she could feel him smile against her lips. She wasn’t moving and her hands were limp at her side, but she was kissing him back.
After what felt like a long time, he released her lips and rested his head on her forehead for a second, letting the hot air of his exhales ghost over her mouth. Then, he gently stepped back, mounted his broom, and flew towards the rest of his team.
She stood speechless with ragged breaths, her cheeks and ears flushed crimson. Hermione looked at her feet, and her hair tumbled down to cover her face as she broke into a grin.
She slowly took off the Slytherin scarf and held it tightly. It would be a good reminder that not everything Draco Malfoy could do with his mouth was awful.