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“And it’s supposed to smell differently to each one of us, according to what attracts us,” Hermione said, pride swelling in her chest as she recited the effects of amortentia to Professor Slughorn. She knew the other NEWT potions students found her highly pretentious, but she’d learned to stop caring about that years ago. “And I can smell freshly mown grass, and new parchment and-”
Hermione stopped, color rising to her cheeks. Her eyes darted to Harry across from her and she saw him raise his dark eyebrows, just a fraction.
She gave him a sharp look, saying all she needed. He chuckled.
Hermione glanced at Ron, who was not paying any attention to the silent exchange. He was looking aloof and satisfied. She wondered if he smelled strawberry shampoo, or if instead some foolishly floral smell was overwhelming him.
The rest of the period was spent furiously working on the draught of living death. Harry, her wonderful but hopeless best friend, won the Felix Felicis in the end and she was determined to find out how. All wonderings on the owner of a deep, pine scented pomade were left in the dank potions classroom.
~~~
“Harry, Dumbledore is counting on you. You need to focus !” Hermione snapped, glaring at Harry and Ron. They sat by the fireplace playing exploding snap, not studying for their NEWTs, not trying to cozy up to Professor Slughorn- nothing.
Ron rolled his eyes. “We have months, ‘Mione. Bugger off, won’t you?”
She glared at him, unable to keep from glancing down at the little locket he wore around his neck (courtesy of Hermione’s ditzy roommate).
“Harry. You know Dumbledore is waiting.” She pursed her lips, feeling beyond frustrated with the boys.
Harry shrugged, giving her a guilty look. “It’ll get done, I promise. Just… not right now, okay?”
It was all she could do not to stamp her feet. Hermione turned on her heel and scooped her book bag from a maroon couch, hurrying out of the common room. She could do her work in the library. It would be quiet, perhaps she could get prophecies and redheads out of her mind.
~~~
Hermione wiped a frustrated tear from her cheek and reached above her head, charming her thick hair into a frizzy bun. The table before her was strewn with her homework, books piled like walls to a fortress.
She had just broken her quill nib for the fifth time- an easy fix but undeniably frustrating. “Merlin!” She shouted, shoving her wand into the bun she’d just created. Arithmancy was a calming, meditative subject for her. And yet she was still brimming with angry energy.
Madam Pince turned around a corner, sour face pinched. “Miss Granger. That’s quite enough. Time for you to be leaving.” Her tone was brisk and Hermione felt about to burst. She magicked her things clumsily into her bag, leaving the library books cluttering her table. It didn’t matter.
The frazzled witch left the library and stormed down a hall. “Stupid order. Stupid boy. Stupid Lavender. Stupid Potter. Stupid-”
Hermione stopped in her rant, eyes catching on a streak of blonde disappearing at the end of the hall. Malfoy? It was rather late to be… well, wherever they were. She hadn’t paid much attention where she was going.
Harry had been obsessed with Malfoy this whole year. It wasn’t that Hermione didn’t believe him, it was just, well, Malfoy couldn’t be a death eater. He was too good. Right?
But if she could prove that to Harry, maybe he would be able to focus, able to stop staring at the cursed map and spend more time trying to fight the real enemy.
Hermione pulled her wand from her hair and silenced her footsteps before making chase, running after the Slytherin.
It didn’t take long.
Hermione turned a corner and saw Draco Malfoy facing her. He had been midstep and he faltered when he saw her, grey eyes going wide.
His pale lips curled up in a snarl and he pulled out his wand. “Granger. What are you doing-?”
Hermione flicked her wrist and sent out a silent ‘expelliarmus.’ Draco’s wand flew from his hand and skittered across the floor, effectively shutting him up.
“How dare you?!” He yelled at her, running after his wand.
Hermione glanced around the hall. There, to the right of Malfoy was the tapestry, depicting Barnabus the Barmy teaching trolls to dance. She looked back at Malfoy, confusion washing over her.
“What are you trying to do in the Room of Requirement?” She asked him, deciding to come right out with it.
He snatched up his wand and stood up straight, staring her down. “What is it to you?” He demanded. His voice sounded uncertain. That was not something she had expected from the Draco Malfoy.
Hermione stepped forward and he raised his wand at her. She stopped, meters between the two of them, and raised both arms. “I’m not here to hurt you, Malfoy.”
“Sure, Granger. You were just here to have a nice chat, is that it?” He rolled his eyes. “Get out of here, if you know what’s good for you.”
She searched his face, a question in her eyes. They had never actually talked before. The two of them were often studying in the library at the same time. He’d hexed her and sneered at her plenty. But talked? Never. She was curious about him. So of course she didn’t ever know what was good for her.
“You’re thin, Malfoy,” she said quietly. His wand arm dipped.
“I- What?”
Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek. “You’re thinner than last year. Taller, yes, but way too thin. Something is wrong.” It was not a question.
“Since when were you checking me out, Granger?” He sneered, a forced lilt in his voice. “Got a fancy? I always thought you had eyes only for the Weasel.”
Hermione fought a blush and rolled her brown eyes. “As if. I just manage to pay attention, unlike just about everyone else in our year. Surely Pansy has noticed you looking green around the gills. Is it your father? Are you missing him now he’s in Azkaban?” That felt like a cruel jab. But it’s what Harry and Ron would say. She had to be a Gryffindor right now. She had to figure out what was going on with Malfoy.
Malfoy looked stretched thin, ready to snap. “Don’t talk about my father, mudblood.”
“We both bleed red, Malfoy.”
“Wanna test that theory?” He asked threateningly. He raised his wand again. “Stupif-“
Hermione had mastered the silent spell by now. She deflected his attack and stuck his legs together, making him fall backwards.
Malfoy growled. “Confundus!” He shouted.
“Protego!” She shouted back. She tried disarming him again but he deflected. “It’s late, and I don’t want to fight, Malfoy. Stop being a child and tell me what’s going on!”
“I don’t owe you anything!”
“You’re a dimwit!”
“You’re a mudblood!”
“Oh, really great comeback, Malfoy,” she taunted. He freed his legs and stood again.
“Bloody leave me alone, Granger. Go back to your lion's den,” he said, quieter this time.
Hermione stuck her wand in her hair and crossed her arms. “Come with me.”
He frowned. “What, to the Gryffindor common room? As if.”
She rolled her eyes. “No. To the kitchens. You’ve been skipping every other meal. You look like one good hex would do you in.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t dine with filth.”
“I’m so hurt. Come on you idiot.” Hermione turned and began walking in the direction of the kitchens. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she was sure he would follow.
After a few seconds of hesitation, he did.
~~~
Hermione stepped into the kitchens and was swarmed by a bunch of house elves. Her heart tugged, seeing them all hat-less. She’d have to try something else.
“I’m so very sorry to wake you all. I was hoping perhaps you have leftovers from dinner?” She asked hopefully, glancing behind her and nearly jumping when Malfoy’s tall thin frame was there. “Right,” she breathed.
“No, no miss!” An elf squeaked. “We do not give old food! We makes a dinner for you now! Just the two…?”
Hermione nodded. “Thank you, I can pay!” The elf gave her a look like she was off her rocker and left.
Malfoy stepped further into the kitchen and gave her a look as well. “Pay, granger? What kind of witch are you?” He sneered.
“A good one, I hope,” she told him, sitting at the tiny table in the corner.
Malfoy scoffed and transfigured the table and chairs into a more appropriate size.
Standing, Hermione found the larger seat and sat. “Too good for elf-chairs?”
“Too tall.”
Yes, she supposed that made sense.
They sat in silence and waited for their meal. Hermione picked at her thumbnail, which had dry skin peeling around the edges. It was a terrible habit, but she couldn’t help it.
She glanced up at Malfoy and was startled to see grey eyes looking back at her. They held each other’s gaze for a moment. Hermione couldn’t help wondering if he had been watching her for very long.
“Staring is rude, Malfoy. I thought you were all manners.”
He leaned back in his chair but didn’t stop looking at her. “It’s not a look of admiration, don’t worry,” he drawled. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”
“Is that so? And what have you figured?”
He crossed his arms. “You Gryffindors always try to run into the burning building and save the helpless kitten. You risk your life for the life of a creature that has no feelings-“
“Cats do have feelings.” She interjected.
“And you expect a trophy when you’re done. Bravo, look at you, what a savior you are.” He looked at the floor, eyes burning a hole into the cobbled stone. “Granger, I am not a kitten. I am not helpless. I don’t need you.” Malfoy’s eyes snapped up to find hers. He sat forward and leaned on the table. “Go find a different charity case.”
Hermione was sure she looked like a buffoon, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. “I- what? No. I don’t-“
Malfoy stared at her, eyes burning. As he leaned forward Hermione caught a whiff of pine that brought her right back to the dungeons on the first day of school. She shook her head and tried to clear her thoughts.
“Don’t think I don’t see how you look at me. You think I’m a cause to get behind, like your precious house elves. I’m not. You think I need your help. I don’t.”
Hermione felt a tear prick in the corner of her eye. She brushed it away. “I don’t know what is going on, but the Order can help you, Malfoy. Vol-“
“Don’t call him that.”
“-demort is evil but not indestructible. If something is going on, we can help you. You don’t have to do everything alone,” she said, voice quiet.
Malfoy’s gaunt face looked pained. He tore his eyes from her and looked down at the wood grain of the table. “I don’t want your help. Leave me alone, mudblood.”
“I don’t think you mean that.” She said matter-of-factly. She reached across the table and touched his hand, her dark fingers covering his pale ones. He jumped a little but he didn’t pull his hand away. He looked back at her.
“He’ll kill me. He’ll kill my mother.”
Her heart squeezed right. “The order can get her to safety. They can hide her away, like they’ve done with so many others.”
His hard eyes began to soften. “Potter won’t take me. I’m a snake.”
“Harry isn’t the Order. And he’s an idiot.” Silence fell over them, but this time it was a comfortable one. An understanding was beginning to pass between the pair.
Hermione gently flipped his hand and threaded her fingers through his. Malfoy looked more confused than anything.
“Granger. I don’t get it. What is this? Why me?” He tried reclaiming his hand but she tightened her grip, standing and holding his hand in both of hers. She took his left sleeve and unbuttoned the cuff, slowly pushing it up to expose his forearm. Malfoy didn’t move. She pushed the sleeve to his elbow and gazed down at his pale arm, marred by an ugly, fresh tattoo. The black lines seemed to move, bringing the snake and skull to life. His hand in hers twitched.
“Draco…” she trailed off and met his eyes. “You don’t deserve this. No 16 year old deserves this. You are as much a victim of Voldemort as Harry. As any of us.” She felt more tears come but she didn’t try to hide them anymore. Let him know how much she cared. Had always cared.
“You’re a bully, Draco.” He flinched but she continued on. “I don’t think it’s your fault. It’s how you were raised. I forgive you.”
His eyes were cloudy as he slowly shook his head. “Granger, I don’t deserve forgiveness. You don’t need to.”
“I want to.” She brushed a tear off his high cheekbone. Again, she could smell his pomade, a scent she used to loathe as a kid. Now, she found it rather nice. “You deserve another chance.”
He looked back and forth between her eyes, trying to find something- she wasn’t sure what. She did know that they were rather close. It felt good. Being close to Ron was never like this, charged and warm.
“Gr-Hermione,” he said, pursing his lips. She shivered. That was new. “Thank you.”
An icicle in her chest melted, warmth filling her heart. “Of course. The Order is good. And you deserve it.”
He shook his head and pulled her hand closer. “I don’t think the order asked you to be yourself. I highly doubt they asked you to have me eat some dinner,” he chuckled. “Thank you.”
She swallowed thickly. “Of course, Draco.” Her eyes fell on his lips and she immediately looked away. What was she thinking? She needed some space before she did something rather stupid.
“You and the Weasel a thing?” He asked out of the blue.
She whipped her head back around. “What, Ron? No, wh-“
“Good,” he whispered, pulling her down and catching her lips with his.
~~~
Hermione forgot how to breathe. She had fallen into Malfoy’s lap and didn’t want to move a hair. She was wide eyed as he pulled his face away.
“I- you-“ She stuttered. How did he always have her stuttering?
He gave a sheepish grin. “My turn to say sorry?”
She shook her head in dismay. “What was that?” She was keenly aware of his hand on her back, her legs on his.
“I think it’s called a kiss, Granger.” Back to teasing.
Hermione was sure this was stupid. Sure she’d regret it. And completely sure she wanted it. She leaned in and pressed her lips back to his, closing her eyes and savoring the moment. He pulled her closer to him and reached a hand up to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her bushy hair. She let out a breath, pulling just a millimeter away and raking in his smell. So this was Draco Malfoy. Pine, pomade, some delicious something that was perhaps rose?
He was the one to kiss her this time, lips moving hungrily against hers. He was not looking for a chaste peck on the lips. He pulled her hair gently and left her mouth, kissing her jaw and throat.
Hermione let out a shaky breath and let him tilt her head back. She snaked her arms around his neck, letting her fingers play idly with the hair at the nape. She was not sure that this would ever happen again and was desperate for as much as she could have. “Draco-“
“Shh…” he murmured against her neck, teeth grazing her skin. He let both hands fall to her hips and leaned back up to kiss her lips again. He squeezed her, his tongue asking permission to explore her better.
She leaned into him, tongue dancing against his. She began undoing his Slytherin tie, eager to feel a little more of his skin.
Draco moaned softly, helping her tank off the tie and undo his top buttons. She shivered. What a delightful sound.
It was her turn to kiss his jaw, taking her time to press long kisses to every inch of his soft skin. Just below his ear, she stopped and sucked at his neck, begging him for another of those low moans. He obliged, sliding her up on his lap and groaning. She pulled away to look at him, her chest heaving with her quick breaths. She was torn, wanting to kiss him and yet wishing she could look into his eyes forever. Maybe she could unlock all of him, his thoughts and secrets and-
“Miss! Mister!” A squeak behind them made the pair jump. Draco stood with an abruptness that sent Hermione toppling onto the floor. She scrambled to stand.
Two elves were staring at them, orb-like eyes wide in shock. “We-we has dinner!” The first said sheepishly.
“Yes. Yes, thank you.” Hermione cleared her throat and helped them set trays of food on the table. She was sure her face was flaming.
The elves decided to stay close for the entire time they ate, like little watchdogs. She wished she could crawl in a hole and never come out. What were they to say? She had just been making out with Draco bloody Malfoy!
Hermione bit her lip and nodded to Malfoy as they left the kitchens ten minutes later. He had straightened his shirt and tie, but she had certainly left a mark.
“I-Er- I'll let the Order know what you said,” she told him, shuffling her feet. “I mean! Not all of what you said! Just- you know what I mean.”
His ears were a dashing shade of pink. “Great. Good. I… later, Granger.” He nodded to her and spun around, hurrying to the dungeons.
Hermione watched him go, feeling strange. What the bloody hell was she going to tell Harry?