Hermione was having a really bad week. She was still refusing to talk to Ron who was giving her puppy dog eyes every time he saw her. This had forced Hermione to hide out in the library for longer than usual just to avoid him in the Gryffindor common room. The most depressing thing for her was that she didn’t even feel sad that she had broken up with Ron. She felt relieved more than anything, not realising until now just how much she’d been clinging to the façade of a relationship because it was what she felt she should want. In reality, she hadn’t enjoyed being Ron’s girlfriend at all. It had highlighted all his worst qualities until she struggled to remember what it was she liked about him in the first place.
Harry was trying to stay clear of the fall-out. However, because he didn’t like to spend the majority of his time in the library, this meant he was seeing Ron a lot more than her. Ginny was being as supportive as she could be. She’d made it clear to everyone that Ron was to blame for the break-up. Surprisingly for Hogwarts, the details of the bet had not spread far and wide. Hermione and her friends had a vested interest in keeping it quiet, but she didn’t understand why Malfoy wasn’t swaggering around bragging about it.
In fact, Malfoy had been spending a lot of time in the library, too. Hermione had felt his mercurial gaze burning holes in the back of her head, and it was only a severe amount of discipline that had stopped her from turning around every five minutes to stare back at him. Every time she did catch eyes with him, he’d smile that smug smirk, and she’d be tempted to go over and smack him once more.
All in all, Hermione was in a constant bad mood.
She was currently scribbling furiously on her Transfiguration essay. The one good thing about the situation she found herself in was that she was miles ahead in all of her studies. The chair opposite scraped across the floor, making her look up.
“Angel,” Malfoy greeted her before flopping down and spreading his things across the table.
“What are you doing, Malfoy?” she asked.
“What does it look like? I’m studying,” he replied.
“Not here you’re not. I don’t want you sitting near me,” she said emphatically.
“Tough,” he remarked. “You’re stuck with me. Besides, you have all the books I need for the Transfiguration essay.”
Hermione huffed as Malfoy started fingering through the huge pile of books she’d collected around her. “Go and work on another essay,” she ordered.
He stopped what he was doing and raised an eyebrow. “Was that an order, Angel?”
“What if it was?” she asked.
“I only take orders from the significant women in my life. Are you offering to be significant?” he asked suggestively.
Hermione blushed as she realised that Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, was flirting with her. He’d moved in closer and ran his finger down her reddened cheek. “So are you looking forward to Saturday night?” he whispered intimately across to her.
She was feeling a little hot and dazed. “What?” she uttered weakly. Then she took in his smug look, cleared her throat, and sat up straighter.
“You’re lucky I’m turning up, Malfoy,” she said waspishly. “I’m only doing this because Ron was stupid enough to make an Unbreakable Vow with you, and I don’t want him to die.”
The blond smiled beguilingly at her as he reached across and took her hand in his. “So you’re not even a little curious about what a date with me would be like?” he asked, stroking her fingers.
She cursed her traitorous body. His warm hands were causing tingles to ripple up her arm. What the hell was going on? Nothing Ron had done had even felt remotely like this. She also wasn’t sure how to reply to his question, as she was a little curious.
Malfoy had always been a bit of a mystery. Earlier in their school career, she’d dismissed him as a school bully, but when Harry had told her about what had happened at the top of the Astronomy Tower, she’d realised that he’d had immense pressures piled on him, too. His surname meant that he was expected to act and think a certain way. Then the times she’d seen him during that final year, he’d seemed diminished somehow, and she’d never forget how haunted he’d looked as he’d watched her being tortured by his aunt. He’d tried his hardest not to identify her, despite the fact that it was obvious who they were as soon they’d been dragged in front of him.
And this year, she’d noticed that he watched her --not in the same way that he had before but with an intensity that made her shiver and not in a bad way. His grey eyes would darken when they rested on her, and he no longer sneered and insulted her. He’d returned to Hogwarts looking healthier, having grown a couple of inches and filled out. He no longer looked like a boy but like a man.
Hermione had heard the whispers about him in the Hogwarts female bathrooms. Many girls were going out of their way to bump into him, but he appeared uninterested. A spiteful Morag McDougal had suggested that maybe he was gay. He and Blaise Zabini were seen together often, and neither handsome boy had a girlfriend.
The sound of a book being flung down caused Hermione to whip her head around. There, standing across the library, staring at the pair of them in horror, was Ron.
She realised how intimate she looked, leaning a little towards Malfoy as he clasped her hand. She pulled her hand out of his and quickly fled the library in confusion.
Draco smiled slowly as he watched Granger retreat in disarray. So the little Gryffindor wasn’t as immune to him as he’d thought. He’d seen the goose bumps on her arms as he’d stroked her hand. Her pupils had dilated, too. To top it off, she’d hesitated for a telling time before being startled by Weasley. Maybe he had a chance in bringing her around after all.
He watched as the Weasel stalked towards him. “What are you playing at, ferret? You leave Hermione alone,” Weasley growled.
The Slytherin rested his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “I can’t, Weasel. I have to take her on a date, or you die,” he taunted.
“You’d better not try anything, or I’ll hurt you,” the redhead threatened him.
“I’m so scared,” he drawled sarcastically. “Anyway, what Hermione does is none of your business. She ditched you and is free to move on to whomever she likes.”
He smirked as Weasley went bright red at his use of Granger’s first name. It was always fun to wind him up.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I have things to do, and you’re wasting my valuable time,” he said with a languid wave of his hand.
Weasley spluttered a little incoherently at him before stomping off. Draco went back through to sorting through the books and settled into his essay.
He’d finished a few hours later, and he was packing his things away when he realised that Granger had run off without her stuff. She had grabbed her bag but in her rush had left her quill, inkbottle, and incomplete essay. He gathered the things up for her before placing them in his bag. It would give him another reason to seek out.
Draco had kept his infatuation with Granger quiet, not even telling Blaise, although the git had guessed with his latest stunt. He hadn’t seen the point in telling anyone as she’d appeared settled and happy with the Weasel, no matter how lecherous the ginger oaf got. It wasn’t as if he’d have a chance anyway. He’d bullied her mercilessly and wasn’t stupid to think that she’d just forgive and forget and give him a chance.
But then Weasley had been stupid and made that bet. Draco hadn’t thought he’d actually agree to his terms but had grabbed at it when the fool had.
Now he had a limited amount of time to make his move and show Granger how good they could be together. Today had given him a little hope.
