The next few days were peculiar. The meals in the library had stopped but perhaps it was because she had started showing to dinner again.
Making sly eye contact with Draco as if to prove a point.
Draco licked his teeth and started watching her from across the great hall. A slight smirk, very clearly ignoring his friends that sat around him. Pansys thumb noticeably rubbing slowly along his forearm.
Hermione glared back at him. Attempting not to get flustered under his intimidating stare — After all she no longer had Harry to watch her back like before.
An empty plate, she twisted a curl behind her ear and lifted her chin to meet his eyes again. The death eater twat would have to look away first, because she certainly wasn't planning on giving in.
Eye connection that lasted for minutes, frustrated at how Draco was trying to psych her out. His ability to hold her attention was infuriating.
Hermione pushed her plate forward and stood up dramatically. "Insufferable idiot." She mouthed, before getting up and leaving. His smirk and raised eyebrows imprinted in her vision. He'd won. Again.
~
Hermione sat awkwardly on the end of Ginny's bed, trying to console her as she weeped breathlessly into her shoulder. Bloody Harry. She'd been crying for nearly two hours, ever so emotional since the boys had left.
Now Hermione found herself glancing over to the clock every other minute. 9 o clock — she desperately wanted to get to the library. Mostly for reasons she dare not explain to Ginny.
"He hasn't even written!" Ginny sighed, and Hermione decided it would be best to not mention the letter she had received a few days previous.
"Gin, you know it's dangerous for them."
"I know," She huffed out, "I can't wait until this war bullshit is all over."
Hermione nodded, but now had thoughts whirring around her head. But what then?
Say they actually manage to win the war and then she's still depressed and she's still alone.
Ginny had Harry and she had— Ron? No, she most definitely did not have Ron.
She was alone, a dirty muggleborn with scars up her wrists. A muggleborn who's only recent interests consisted of a platinum haired deatheater. He'd murmur insults and make her feel shit, but at least it wasn't herself doing it for once. Made a nice change.
She sighed heavily.
"Come on Gin, try and sleep?"
Ginny nodded and slid into her red sheets, still sniffling and looking rather sorry for herself. Hermione flicked off the lights so that just low candlelight flickered around them.
"You sleep well."
"Mione?"
"Yes?"
"You will stay here tonight won't you? Please just stay with me?"
Hermione smiled sadly, her eyes wet, "Of course."
But there was only one thing on her mind. She wondered if Malfoy would notice that she hadn't showed...
~
The following night; and she certainly wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to miss another night in the quiet library beside her little rounded window.
Hermione stepped through the corridor slowly, practicing odd spells as she went. She supposed that she better attempt to practise one way or another, it's what Harry kept urging her to do anyway.
Her curled brunette locks were tamed into a loose plait that dangled down her back. She still wore her school uniform, her skirt now charmed shorter and tighter to accommodate her tiny waist. As she continued to walk she could feel her school shirt pulling against her breast, she had certainly filled out perhaps more than she realised.
With her action packed years at Hogwarts, puberty and the changing of her curves had hardly been something she'd had time to stop and think about. It assuredly hadn't been something on her mind.
Hermione had noticed boys looking at her chest more recently than before. More time alone definitely meant more time to think about such matters. Mostly it was Ron's un-suttle glances she picked up, but also others too.
Like when she'd caught Malfoy — he always seemed to be staring at the top of her legs whenever she looked around. She pondered if all boys thought like this, and if she'd been so naive to have never really noticed.
Even bumping into Theo Nott a fair few weeks back, she remembered exactly where his eyes had lingered on her body.
The attention was strange because she'd never felt to be the particular sexy type. Brains first of course and then her looks tended to linger somewhere behind.
Her attention to detail must've been poorer than expected, because now she was eighteen years of age— nearly nineteen. Her body had changed years and years ago, but only recently had she slowed and given herself a chance to notice it.
She was pleased with it she supposed, only the skipping of meals meant that her collar bones protruded perhaps more than she'd like to admit.
Following her thoughts away from the attention of her figure, she found herself stood at the entrance to the library doors. It wasn't quite past curfew yet so she imagined it wouldn't be completely silent, but definitely nicer than the constant gossip from the girls in her dorm. Or Ginny crying again.
Walking through, she settled herself down into her usual seat. Spreading out books sporadically to mark her territory for the night.
The lighting lowed barely half an hour later, indicating curfew, and the candles around her lit one by one. This was her favourite time of the day because now she could fully relax.
Hermione tried to listen for a single spark of movement, but was left lost when she realised perhaps she was the only one here.
It had been a while since she'd been here fully alone. She'd always sort of known Malfoy was there.
Hermione couldn't settle. She fidgeted recklessly in her chair before slipping off her shoes and creeping in knee high socks to the restricted section. To Malfoy's corner.
Tiptoeing gingerly, she peered around the edge of the bookshelf. Her suspicions were correct, he wasn't here. Tilting her head with confusion, she noticed an array of books spread where he usually sat.
And a lonesome Slytherin tie besides a hot cup of tea. Chamomile tea.
She edged forward, curiously looking at the books and pages that lay around the area. Most of the books notably could only be found in the restricted section so no wonder he liked to hide back here. His pot of ink and scribbles left on one single page — In the middle of a sentence. She frowned with confusion. Perhaps he left in a rush?
Hermione ran the pad of her middle finger over the thin parchment paper and analysed his handwriting. A neat sort of scribble. She liked it. A quick glance over her shoulder and before she knew it she was squinting her eyes and reading the spines of the books. Just out of curiosity.
Unforgivable branding in the Wizarding world
She bent over a little and began to read the rest of the spines he had piled up, too involved now to let this go. Too intrigued to discover what he was doing back here. Besides the drugs and well, Pansy.
The next book. Black with silver lettering.
Founding of Morsmordre
She leaned down further, craning her neck to read the rest.
Dark secrets- Magical branding IV
Properties of branded dark magic, volume II
Reversible dark counter curses
Dark mark, the origins VII
Advanced unforgivable potion creation
Hermione felt herself physically gasp as she finished reading through the titles. She began to read a little of the page he had clearly left half way through. Difficult as it was to admit, she struggled to understand some of his research. It seemed he was translating ancient runes, since most original dark magic books were written in runes.
As she read through slowly it became clear that he was researching dark branding magic and supposedly how to reverse it. Hermione felt the edge of her lip curl into a small smile — if she was to make an educated guess, she could even assume his dark mark.
The more she thought about it, the more she convinced herself. He was trying to find a way to remove his dark mark... it had to be that.
She smirked to herself as she read another sentence and realised that she definitely wouldn't have gone about it that way. For starters it would be useless for him to look into counter curses when really the way to go about it would be some sort of antidote that contained—
"The fuck are you doing Granger?"
Shit.
She span around, awkwardly placing down the parchment paper she held in between her fingers. Wincing, she looked up at his face. His chiselled features were carved into something of fury, his school shirt untucked and unbuttoned a few, revealing the beginning of an athletic chest she couldn't ignore. But no doubt he soon brought her straight back to reality.
"Don't you dare fucking look at my shit again."
She frowned slightly because he had to know that she would help. Hermione didn't know how she had come to this conclusion but she would.
If he would let her.
"Your dark mark— you, you're trying—
"Fuck you Granger."
She stepped forward. "You want it gone," then her eyes dropped to his inked forearm, "Don't you?"
Draco scoffed and took a step closer, looking down at her as if she was worth nothing.
"You don't know me, and don't attempt to get to know me ok? Because it's a bad fucking idea."
She pleaded desperately as he edged closer, "I don't feel anything anymore. Let me help you. It will help me. I need distractions, I need—
Draco hushed her, then wrapped his palm around her neck tightly and scowled down at her, pushing the back of her head sharply against the wood of the bookshelf that stood behind them.
A startled expression as she focussed on his tight grip and the connection of touch she hadn't previously discovered.
Then he pulled her forward toward his chest before pushing her back again, hard. Her head colliding again with the sharp oak. Hermione blinked up at him twice with confusion and he studied her expression. Her bright amber eyes and plump pink lips.
For whatever reason, she wanted more.
"Does that help you fucking feel Granger?"
Her cheeks were wet but she hadn't even realised she was crying.
"Do it again." She pleaded, her voice short and breathless, every rational thought in her head evaporating.
He smashed her head again. Knocking books flying to the floor in the process. He was breathing heavily down at her, eyes searching hers continually for a hint of pain.
She knew she shouldn't be looking at his mouth, but somehow she was— and her eyes were slowly drifting down at their own accord to watch his throat bob with a harsh swallow.
"Again." She breathed lowly.
He pulled his arm back and smashed her head harder. Now she was seeing stars.
"Fuck you." She cried out. "Just let me help!"
"Settle for this Granger." He seethed, "Feel this."
And she did. The heavy thumping at the back of her skull, his fingers and cold silver rings burning with a sharp twang into her flesh. Perhaps he wasn't even holding her tight, but either way she was struggling to breathe— and he held all control.
Hermione was beginning to feel dizzy, entirely sure that she'd lost her mind because his touch and eye contact was too much for her to handle. He was right, she really was pathetic.
Draco was breathing heavily, he smelt of mint and a strong cologne, something she'd never picked up on before. Rightfully so. He was looking down at her innocent eyes with such opposite distaste. His head tilted with a chance to analyse her features in more detail than he ever could before.
She was pretty, and his eyes flicked between hers and then her pink lips, trying hard to break this state of confusion he found himself in. He hated it.
"Just think about it Malfoy," she breathed out, "Consider my offer."
Her soft tone caused him to break the eye contact.
"Leave it Granger." He demanded, dropping his hand from around her throat and turning around to take a step away from her. Reinforcing the space they needed between each other.
Breathlessly, she perched on the edge of his table, crossing her legs and watching his eyes drop to the space between her knees and the top of her skirt.
"Think about it."
"You have no idea what I was even researching Granger."
She raised her eyebrows. "I'm not stupid Malfoy."
He scoffed and watched her eyes creep over his torso. "I don't need your fucking help." He cried out, "Don't talk to me, I hurt everyone I bloody look at."
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and met his piercing grey eyes. "You're just stubborn."
Then she moved forward, looking him up and down before slipping past him. He turned his head to watch her mesmerising figure.
She spoke again. "You'll be pleased to know I'm stubborn too."
Then she span and walked away, leaving him to watch her pace lightly back to her usual spot.
"Think about it." She called back to him confidently. Now she had purpose. She wanted to help.
Malfoy rolled his eyes and then peeled them away from her. Returning to his lonely research and cold cup of chamomile tea. Only they both knew that there was no chance any research or reading would be completed.
There was simply just too much to think about.