Turning her face in different angles of the bathroom mirror, she analysed each feature. Apart from her dark circles that lingered due to the lack of sleep, nothing was out of the ordinary. So why had Malfoy not taken his eyes off her for the entire first period?
Or perhaps he'd decided on her offer? Although she doubted he'd let her help; however nice it may be for her to adjust irritating thoughts away from Horcrux's and defeating Voldemort, and instead work on something a little lighter. (Even if it was still meddling in the restricted section and reading about dark magic.)
Especially now she didn't have Harry and Ron constantly trying to speed things up — they couldn't control her now.
They both spent every night in the library anyway so as strange as it was, to her it made perfect sense. It wouldn't get heated like last time and she'd make sure to stay well out of his way.
Their blood status' made it fairly easy for that to occur anyway. He was insufferably annoying and hated her so it definitely wouldn't be difficult.
Flattening her Gryffindor robes and staring at her faded scars for a few seconds, she quickly charmed her hair into something a little neater since she'd been in a rush this morning.
Then she slouched out, unenthusiastic about double transfigurations. Which seemed ridiculously stupid considering the current climate.
~
After a quick dinner, choosing to avoid Ginny's moaning and instead sitting with Neville; Hermione followed the stone corridor down to her favourite library spot.
She settled down. Brushing through her crazed hair with her fingers, laying out books to distract her from worries about Harry and Ron. She'd heard enough about snatchers for her liking, and clearly Ginny had too.
It seemed she'd arrived again before Malfoy, although not surprising after avoiding catching his eyes in the great hall. Hermione was too curious about Malfoy's situation to let it go, was she right? Did he really want to attempt to remove his Dark mark?
Either way, it was playing on her mind and she secretly hoped that he would show tonight and perhaps give her an answer. Although she could anticipate what it would be. Not only that but she could also anticipate how disappointed Harry and Ron would be at her for trying to help someone as insightfully dreadful as Draco Malfoy.
Hermione felt him walk through the doors less than an hour later, she didn't look up or attempt to greet him. Instead she waited, breathing slowly and flatly, pretending to write as his hard steps grew closer.
Then he stopped. She could feel his smirk from behind her, his grey eyes piercing into her back.
Hermione ignored him whilst silently panicking.
Whilst he assumed she was too involved in her work, he stood and watched her with his chin held high. Thoughts lingered that probably shouldn't. He watched her, and she could feel his eyes blaring into her side without wavering.
He could simply stand and watch her for hours. How could it be that somebody could be so imperfect in their blood yet so perfect at everything else?
Collecting his damaging thoughts, he sighed heavily and moved closer.
"Granger." He greeted flatly.
His voice was clear and precise, and it surprised her as she placed down her quill and turned to address him.
He was smirking ever so slightly as she had expected, looking down at her, hands tucked away in his Slytherin robes. He looked tired, dark circles still engraved around his shining eyes yet somehow it suited his features terribly. Annoyingly.
Annoyingly handsome.
She rolled her eyes, "Malfoy."
Expecting him to walk through to his section, she was astounded when he moved closer to lean confidentially against a bookshelf near her. His scent was slowly devouring her and she desperately tried to ignore it.
Malfoy cleared his throat and pulled a cigarette out of his robe pocket and held it between his lips.
Hermione watched him light it with raised eyebrow.
"Really?"
"Really what Granger?"
"Smoking really is a dirty habit Malfoy."
He rolled his eyes and scoffed, and she immediately silenced.
"Lighten up Granger."
He drew on the cigarette before flicking it between his fingers with ease. She continued to look up at him, sort of mesmerised with his pale skin and carved features under the low light. Quickly evaporating her forbidden thoughts, she crossed her legs and watched his eyes light up a little as he followed her skirt lifting up each thigh.
She pretended not to notice.
"Anyway," he continued, "I've thought on it. And I've decided that a muggleborn like you really would just hinder my research."
"Fine." She sighed, expecting no less, "You should probably just go then."
"Don't fucking boss me about Granger. I'm not like your weasel."
She frowned up at him, "Please Malfoy, Ron is not mine."
"Have you seen the way he looks at you?" Then his voice trailed off as he brought the cigarette up for another drag. "Or the way other boys do..."
"I have no interest in boys." She insisted hesitantly, looking down quickly to her wrists to remind herself that she had much more important things to worry about. Like keeping herself alive for one.
"What? Gonna stay a virgin forever?" He scoffed, grinning a little at her sudden uncomfortable nature.
"It doesn't concern you Malfoy."
"You've kissed before though," his smirk wider than ever, "Haven't you?"
"Yes." She hissed angrily.
"Who?" He proceeded as she stood up, trying to distract herself and find a book on charms she had considered reading before.
She stood in front of him and he watched her carefully as she raised onto her tiptoes and searched for the book titles surrounding his lean physique.
They were closer now. And Hermione could smell the mint again, despite the masking of tabacco it was still there. She watched him gulp, his throat bob slowly — before quickly flitting her eyes back to the books behind him. Malfoy still leaning casually.
They could cut the tension with a knife.
He whispered now, his tone low, "Was it Mclaggen?"
She leaned over him to reach for a book, breath hitched in her throat and mind clouded.
"Or perhaps Krum?" He whispered again.
Then he grabbed her wrist from above his head and her fingers dropped from around the book she was attempting to pull down.
Her eyes met his.
"Or did Potter get there first?"
"No." A shaky whisper as she noted how close their faces were. She could analyse his features better like this.
Malfoy slipped the cigarette out of his mouth and crushed it out on the floor.
Silence.
He dropped her wrist but she stayed close. Malfoy raised his opposite hand and ran a gentle finger along her jaw, before moving it to her plump bottom lip. He ran it along slowly and didn't take his eyes away from them.
So tempting yet so wrong...
She dare not even breathe.
"You're not even going to tell me who's had a go with," his eyebrows raised as he ran a finger along her pink lips again, "these."
She shook her head slowly. Not a chance was she going to be able to talk.
"I'm no good at kissing Malfoy..."
With her simple whisper, he leaned down and harshly pulled her head towards his. Their lips crashed together and suddenly she was tasting the mint rather than just smelling it.
His lips were warm and the kiss harsh, as he pulled at the back of her hair to get her into the perfect position to slide inside her lips and taste her.
The kiss was far from romantic, it was harsh and frantic, he was forceful. But Hermione had never felt so aroused in her life and so this felt very different than anything she'd experienced before.
Malfoy knew exactly what he was doing, and she followed his lead eagerly, thoughtlessly.
His left hand dropped to the curve of her lower back and she gasped into his mouth at the touch.
Then, as sharply and as passionately as the kiss began, he was pulling away and pushing her shoulders back so that she stumbled metres backwards.
Breathlessly she stared back at him, both in ore of what had just happened. And yet she could still feel his hands all over her hips and sliding up her back.
Suddenly she felt sick. This was so so wrong.
This was Draco Malfoy, the boy who bullied her and her friends for years on end, the boy who nearly killed Dumbledore and who belongs to a family of pureblood supremacists. She must've been stupid.
Malfoy was breathless, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. "You," then he looked her body up and down, "Are a terrible liar."
Perhaps then he thought her a good kisser?
"Stop trying to get into my fucking head Granger."
He was so conflicted and angry clearly that instead of being disgusted that he'd just kissed a muggle born, he found himself rock hard between his legs.
Her power, her body, her lips... it was too much.
He had to stay the fuck away from her.
"You kissed me! I know I just went along with it and it was stupid of me I know but—
"Nothing fucking happened." He interrupted sharply, stepping closer to intimidate her small size.
"Got it mudblood?"
"Loud and clear." She scowled back, before pushing past his shoulder and leaving him stood staring at the empty space she'd left behind.
Breathless and desperate to taste more.
~
In her dorm room that night, she aligned her mud-blood scar with Malfoy's words. His aunt had carved it earlier this year, so had she really expected him to think any different of her?
It had been a while but she cracked open a bottle of fire whiskey and finished the whole lot.
She felt awful, no idea if her best friends were even alive or dead, and here she was finding it difficult to divide her thoughts away from Draco fucking Malfoy and his bloody dark mark.
She felt pathetic, and the warm fire whiskey burning her throat seemed to be the only thing to numb her feelings from a very awful mistake.