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The wind burned Hermione’s face as she walked, her arms and her chest too but it was her face that took the brunt of it. She had felt so beautiful walking down those stairs, had loved the attention everyone had given her.
Mouths open, eyes wide. The whispers and chatter that “holy moly the muggleborn cleaned up well!”
The night had been going so well, so bloody well until Ronald, the tosser, had messed it all up. Now the wind burned her already tear stricken face, the cold nipping at her bare skin.
Fresh air was the only thing she could think of when her tears started bubbling, she couldn’t bear the thought of others watching her sob her eyes out.
The stone bench was a welcome relief, happy to leave behind the feeling of the wet soil squishing beneath her heels. She sat on one end of it, curled herself up with her arms around her legs.
She tucked her chin in between her knees, looking out over the darkness of Hogwarts’ grounds. There were small lampposts, lit inside by some pixie or charm.
She sniffled a little, completely unaware of her surroundings. As a result she didn’t notice the silver haired Slytherin until he’d plopped himself down on the other end of the bench.
She jumped at the sudden vibration, looking to her left and finding a disgruntled Malfoy sneering at her. His bow tie was slightly crooked, his hair was messed up. There was a singular lipstick mark on the neckline of his shirt, and his dress robes (the black coat), had been thrown beside him on the bench.
“What are you staring at Granger?” he snapped, flinging one arm over the back of the bench, spreading his legs and looking away from her.
“You look like you got attacked by a wild Pansy,” was her reply, a giggle falling free from her lips.
He scoffed, running his hand through his hair in an attempt to bring it back to its former state.
“That’s because I was.”
“Why’d you even ask her if you were just gonna run from her the whole night?”
“Why would you accept Krum’s offer if you were just going to bicker with Weasel the whole night?”
“That’s not!” she kicked the bench and groaned in frustration. “That’s not what happened. Ron was being a prick, and I was trying to avoid him. But he would not get off my back!”
She returned her legs to their previous position, sniffling to hold the tears in. “Ruined the whole bloody night for me.”
Malfoy was silent, and for a moment she thought he’d left. But then she felt his jacket on her shoulders.
She looked at him, mouth falling open in surprise as she realized he was much closer than he’d been a few moments before.
“If it makes you feel better, no one at that ball could keep their eyes off of you,” he muttered, cheeks pink though from the cold or embarrassment she wasn’t sure.
“Oh? Does that include you Malfoy?” she teased, forgetting her tears momentarily. “Did you think the mudblood looked pretty for the first time ever?”
He scoffed, and she readied herself for an insult that never came. “I never said I thought you were ugly Granger. And for the record I’m sorry for ever calling you mudblood, it was- it was uncalled for.”
She was silent, frozen. She wasn’t sure how to respond. “What brought on this sudden change?” she whispered, turning her body on the bench to stare at him.
He looked at the ground silent. “It’s not a very good reason,” he admitted. “All my life I’ve been taught that muggleborns are lesser. But you- Granger you’re anything but. You’re brilliant, you outdo me in nearly every class. You’re a spitfire, my nose still burns everytime I see you. And you’re beautiful. You’re not lesser, you’re more than I’ll ever be.”
Her mouth had fallen open, her hands limp by her sides. She didn’t know what to say, she had no clue how to react. But then he started to stand, hands in his pockets, and she knew she couldn’t let him leave.
She grabbed his shirt sleeve and dragged him down pressing her lips against his. He gasped into her mouth, frozen. Then just as she let him go he cupped her cheek and deepened the kiss.
His hand tangled in her hair, lips searing and demanding. He dragged, ignoring her surprised “oomph!” in favour of gripping her thighs and pulling her into his lap.
She’d never felt so alive, her blood sang with desire. She never wanted to stop kissing him, never wanted this night to end.
Eventually he pulled away, breathing heavily as their foreheads met. Now she was ready for him to shove her away, physically she was. If her heart had any say in the matter, she’d never leave his arms.
Instead his arms encircled her, tugging her closer. His jacket still lingered on her shoulders, the smell of his cologne enveloping her fully.
He kissed her again, briefly. Then once more.
“I hope you know I’m never going to be able to stop doing that,” he admitted, cheeks flushing with his words.
She grinned, digging her fingers into his perfectly gelled hair. She wanted to mess it up, needed to show everyone that he was only hers to “attack.”
“So this isn’t just a-“ she searched for the word. “A one night nothing?”
His eyebrows furrowed, the breaths leaving his mouth obvious in the cold. “No. At least- I don’t want it to be.”
She smiled, an easy gesture that he readily returned.
“Thank fucking god,” she laughed, head tilting back. “Because I don’t know if I could survive you pushing me off after kissing me like that.”
He kissed her again, one hand cupping her cheek while the other held her close. “Nope. You’ve kissed me once, now you’re gonna have to kiss me 1000 more times to satisfy the beast in me.”
She giggled. “The beast being the horny teenage boy?”
He shrugged. “Guilty as charged. You’ve had me hooked on you since you punched me in the face, and likely for a lot longer than that. And now you’re mine.”
He kissed her again. “All mine.”
She thought she could live with that, it wasn’t the worst fate after all. And Draco did light a fire inside her heart. One she hoped he’d never extinguish.