Chapter Text
“Hermione, I need to speak with you. Do you have a moment?” The blonde skittered closer, shoulders angling towards her with insistence.
“Not now, Zacharias. Sorry. I am supposed to be somewhere." She kept her eyes focused on the door.
“I could talk to you while you head that way. My next period is free.” He brushed her elbow with his forearm, crowding into her space.
“No, but thank you. I’ll catch you later today.” It was as dismissive as possible, without being quite rude.
“We don’t have any other periods together. Let’s talk now.”
Hermione groaned. Zacharias had been sweet on her despite being an utterly foul character and he was surely about to request her attention or help or something to keep them in each other’s orbit. There are precious few of age who returned to Hogwarts - which left a small dating pool. Hermione grabbed her bag and walked away without responding. Like she’d give the time of day to a guy who wasn’t interested in respecting her decision to not want to speak “right this instant” because he wanted to speak “right this instant.” Absolutely not.
She dodged through the flow of students in the corridor, stepping out into a shortcut just as the group rounded a corner. Whew. Hopefully she'd lost him.
“Hermione! I just want to talk!” A shout followed her and she picked up the pace.
Figure out a hint, Zacharias.
She was trying to move as fast as possible in her sensible flats without letting them slap against the floor. Outrunning classmates surely wasn’t the smartest way to be going about her day, but hell – these people could be overwhelming.
She careened around a corner, her messenger bag turning a wider corner than her person, and sprinted to the next turn. Trying to stay ahead of the footsteps she could hear echoing at the end of the prior hall and a faint word that might be her name.
Draco Malfoy was gliding down the other side of the hall towards her, probably headed towards the same dungeon shortcut she was attempting to fool Zacharias into thinking she’d taken.
The months since the war had been good to him. He was still a prideful and arrogant prick, but in a different way. He'd sloughed off "rudely elevated" and eased into "haughty, but accomplished."
He still had echos of the war about him - they all did. Scars on knuckles and the back of his neck, both tucked into shirt cuffs and collars.
And those perfectly slappable cheekbones.
They were friends, now. Though that was a bit of a longer story.
“Oh, good!” Hermione skidded to a stop in front of him. Robes billowing and nearly dumping her bag off her shoulder.
“Granger.” The generally unexpressive man allowed the corner of his mouth to tilt into the hint of a smile.
“I need a favor. Are you dating anyone right now?” Malfoy lifted an eyebrow slowly. Hermione could hear Zacharias’ footsteps get closer. Could hear him saying, “Why are you running from me? I just want to ask you out.” In some terribly insistent manner that she didn’t want, deserve, or encourage.
“No, but what kind of favor could you …”
“I’ll apologize later.” Hermione grabbed a fistful of his shirt, bounced onto her tip toes and quite unromantically hurled her lips into his. She kissed him fervently, with all the desperation of hoping that the unwanted suitor at the end of hall turned the corner and …
Draco Malfoy was kissing her back. She closed her eyes and leaned into the sudden bloom of passion. His bag dropped onto the floor and his hand was tracing up the side of her neck to tangle in her hair. They were kissing in the way that drunk lovers kiss – enthralled by the action and without reservation. She traced his bottom lip with her tongue when it was captured in her mouth. Skated her teeth across that same lip before letting go and chasing it back to his mouth.
Someone shouted. Hermione didn’t care. She let her own bag hit the floor and Malfoy slid an arm under her thighs, lifting her gently into the air and putting her back to the wall so they were at the same height. His lips never left hers.
They were two burning torches, flames high and hot. More together than apart. Combustible. Consumable.
When they separated for a heartbeat, she slowly opened her eyes, nuzzling his nose gently. The castle wall was cold on her back and warmth radiated off of Malfoy, pressing into her. And she wanted it like the first glimpse of summer, with a longing too much for words.
Her own hands, which she’d been paying no attention to, had changed position drastically. One was threading up the back of his neck, fingers splayed against the base of his head, combing through fine blonde hair. The other had released his shirt and followed his collarbone to caress the side of his face gently. Staring into those silver eyes, she ran one finger down the shell of his ear and felt his shiver pin her spine to the wall.
They were both breathing in gasps of air. Eyes a bit misty with bewilderment.
Malfoy had both arms folded under her thighs and the width of his waist pressed in between said thighs. He wore an open expression of want, the wide-bright eyes of the lucky, and his lips were leaning towards her again like long parted lovers - or maybe long awaited lovers.
What the fuck just happened.
Voices drifted into focus, but Hermione and Malfoy were still miles away from the rest of the school. From that hall and whatever she'd been fleeing. What time was it again?
“Granger.” His voice was gravel blown by the wind. Soft and grating. Imagined. It drifted down her neck like a caress and she shivered where it lingered.
“Hermione!" This voice was a weapon wielded in anger. "What the fuck are you doing with Malfoy?!” The voice didn’t belong to Zacharias, anymore. It was the whiny, affronted voice of one Ronald Weasley.
“I would like to know as well, I think.” Malfoy whispered into her hair.
“Mr. Weasley!” A sharper voice interjected the scene. “It is quite inappropriate for you to be shouting obscenities down the hall.” The tawny and pinched form of the Headmistress had drifted up behind Zacharias and Ron.
“Use your eyes, Headmistress! It IS appropriate when Hermione is snogging a Death Eater! She’s coupling with the enemy!”
McGonagall quickly surveyed the scene - Malfoy pinning Granger to the wall; Granger’s arms around Malfoy’s neck; their flushed faces and heaving chests. She narrowed her eyes at Mr. Weasely, who was red to the ears with anger and the overeager Zacharias Smith who was looking a bit left out.
“Mr. Malfoy, if you could kindly set Ms. Granger back upon her feet we could continue this conversation without looking such a scandal.” Ron’s mouth opened, but the Headmistress continued quickly, “Mr. Weasely, I’d kindly like to remind you to mind your own business. Who is snogging who is, in fact, not your business - unless they are snogging you. Are we clear?”
“She could be imperio’d?! He could be using her! Hurting her!”
“Fifty points from Gryffindor and a week’s worth of detention with me, Mr. Weasely. I am not so busy a Headmistress that I will allow you to disabuse your female colleagues of their choice to consent. And no Quidditch for a month.”
“Hermione, this is all your fault for being such a whore!” The words burst from Ron with all the subtlety of a sucker punch.
The air seemed to freeze in the corridor, the temperature plummeting as if a dementor was looming. Hermione was slack jawed at her “friend’s” redirection of his abysmal behavior. Malfoy, still standing beside her, wore a face of Porcelain - his eyes transmuted to a slicing silver. He took a single step forward, beginning to raise his wand. Hermione quickly put her hand on his wrist and forced the wand quickly behind her back.
“I’m ashamed for you, Ronald - not only do you refuse me the opportunity to explain myself, but you then redirected your anger to create a wound in me in a scenario you originally pitched out of concern.”
“Mr. Weasely, to my office immediately.” The Headmistress silenced the obstinate brat for good measure. “No, you have lost the use of your words and I am currently at a loss as to how you found any of this acceptable. I am of a mind to expel you immediately.”
It was a testament to Hermione’s self worth, that she did not jump to Ronald’s defence. He would deserve such a fate.
“We will discuss this development in private, Mr. Weasely. Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy, you both look quite the state that this is a consensual development, but please do indulge an old witch and confirm verbally that this is not a case of malcontent.”
“Yes.” Malfoy stated without indulgence in explanation.
“Yes, Headmistress. I was quite …” McGonagall interrupted Hermione’s about to be very long winded attempt to keep Malfoy out of trouble.
“Later, Ms. Granger. After classes are finished today, I would prefer for you to both report to my office. Is that clear?”
“Mr. Weasely, to my office now. I will be there in just a moment. The password is “Padfoot”. Get going. You too, Mr. Smith. Go on to class, I will fetch you if needed.”
Hermione and Malfoy both picked up their bags and Malfoy slipped his wand back in his robes. Before turning away from them, the Headmistress called out, “A moment longer, please.” McGonagall waited until the banished boys had disappeared from view before striding closer to the smitten couple.
“Headmistress, I…”
“Before you defend anyone, Ms. Granger. Please allow me the opportunity to speak.” Hermione blushed, but nodded.
“Please avoid any more … ravishing … in the middle of exposed corridors today, you two. There will be more to say later once I have dealt with Mr. Weasley’s abysmal performance appropriately – but I would like to offer a quick apology to each of you for his outbursts. Ms. Granger, if you consent you are allowed to follow any trajectory that offers you happiness. Mr. Malfoy… You have much to offer. And neither of you deserved the treatment of Mr. Weasely’s ire. Do go about your day now and see me after classes. I expect to see you together.” With a wave of her hand she conjured them both notes. “Since you’ll be late, please take these.” And with that odd show of support, the Headmistress exited the hall.
The late bell rang out loudly through the castle.
Malfoy’s expression was a mixture of curiosity and uninhibited want. Hermione blushed, fiddling with the bag on her shoulder and looking towards her next class - Runes.
“You called me Draco. Twice.”
“That is your name.” She fiddled, looking away. “We really should be going to class.”
“You’ve never called me Draco and the first time I’ve ever heard you do so you were moaning it into my own mouth.”
“Oh… well. I did get a bit carried away. I shouldn’t have…” He touched her face and her words quieted. His fingers were gentle, redirecting but not forcing.
“Did you mean any of that exchange, Granger? Or was that all for show?” His eyes were the steel of a shield anticipating an arrow.