"Are you trying to kill yourself?"
Draco was yanked forward into a seating position as his eyes opened. He can't speak. His teeth are chattering so badly he can hardly respond. "N-n-n-no, i-i-i-if I were I-I-I'd do it w-w-with more f-f-flare."
"Well, I bet. What better way than to punch someone from your house, walk out the ball, blast something," she pointed to the hexed branch, it was blatantly obvious from this angle, "drink yourself brainless and then sleep out here in the cold."
A blanket had wrapped itself around him and a cup of hot chocolate settled itself on his palm. It was warm. He watched Hermione fume, she was wearing a muggle jacket of unknown fabric over her dress and her Gryffindor scarf. They shouldn't even be talking, it was too obvious. But she was breathtaking in the fairy lights. There's no one else in the grounds but them and he wanted to say so. "Well, it just suits you doesn't it? You and your ice cold heart."
He took a sip of the chocolate, it burnt his tongue but managed to warm him immediately. There are even soft squishy sweet white things on top of it. "You asked me about merits but not what makes me happy."
"Then what makes you happy?"
"Merlin, Hermione. Must you ask?" He took another sip of the chocolate in the muggle cup.
She crossed her arms around her chest in defiance. Too bad, he was enjoying the view. Fourteen is a joyous age, isn't it?
"You," he finally said and he can't look her in the eyes as he did. His cheeks are flaring from the sudden heat. "You make me happy. It doesn't have any merits, as a matter of fact, I'll lose everything for wanting... For wanting you. So, will you give me time before I lose everything? I want to be brave enough for my downfall. I just want it to be on my own terms. Afterall, I'm not the Gryffindor here, am I?"
He felt numb. Like he was separated from his body because of the cold.
She sat beside him and removed her gloves. She placed a warm hand on his cheek so that they were facing each other. Flecks of snow have settled on her lashes and hair that she has put up in a bun, some curls too stubborn to follow and framed her face. Draco felt himself counting every single detail that he could see now that she was much closer-- the blush on her skin, the freckles that looked like sprinkled coffee on her cream skin, the slight artificial tint on her already red lips-- her lips. If he could, he'd slow even the fall of snow as softly but suddenly she leaned forward and touched his lips with hers.
Innocence gone in a puff of warm breath in the cold air.
He closed his eyes and let the moment lingered. It was a miracle that he felt it as he was number than a block of ice.
And it might just be a night of miracles.
"I've never kissed anyone before," she whispered. Her balmy breaths blowing over his freezing skin. Their foreheads are touching.
The secrets are piling.
"It's not my first kiss," Draco said with a smirk. Hermione looked at him in pained shock, her lips parted slightly, trembling. She was about to move away from him. But he pulled her back and took the pins from the bun on her head, her curls cascaded down softly behind her and in front of her. Draco took his time tucking smooth strands behind her ears, it was like silk against his cold fingers. It was a sweet despair to keep the moment from happening as he touched her chin, fingers caressing her smooth skin. She smelled like cologne and all his fantasies, sweet and subtle and soft. He slowly leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, as tender as he could, barely tugging on her pillowy mouth. "There's my first kiss," he whispered in her ear. Her eyes were still closed and he wanted to capture her lips again.
It felt so right that he forgot all his unwritten rules. Misstep all his calculations. Break all his defenses.
Living his life all over again was worth it. If this is supposed to be a sin then, what is righteousness? He'd rather be wrong and nameless than not have this.
"I've brought you a present," she said all of a sudden. She rummaged in the inside of her jacket and got something out. "Close your eyes."
Draco did as he was told, "Granger, if you want another kiss just say so."
She put something on both of his hands. "Open them."
He opened his eyes to see two small muggle shoes in the middle of his palms. They were black, with laces in the front, white soles and has a star logo on the sides. How peculiar. "Engorgio," Hermione pointed her wand at it and they become normal shoes. "It's alright if you don't want to wear them. I just thought of you when I saw them." For she remembered the curve of his calf when he plays quidditch but she will never tell anyone.
"I'll try them on right now," he winked. With shaking fingers he removed his dragon skin boots and put on the first of the shoes but tying them was another story. His fingers are not as adept while they are freezing. It felt like trying to catch air.
Hermione must have see the struggle. "Oh, Draco, you're hopeless. Swing your feet on my lap." She tied the laces together without difficulty. The muggle shoes are warm on his feet and strangely comfortable, he can even wear it to bed. He bets it will even look good with his silk pajamas, in fact, it will look good with anything and everything! Who's he kidding, he could make a potato bag look good.
"I can't wear this right now, Hermione. But someday I would really like to. Won't you keep the other shoe?" He asked. It was the right thing to do. They can't just start parading artifacts of their relationship out there. They'll be goners. "It's going to be just like that muggle tale. You know, Cindernilla?"
"Cinderella. But your pretty close," she giggled, nose already a bit red from the cold. He didn't remove his feet on her lap. He doesn't know when he'll get to wear the muggle shoes again or if she's willing to wait for that day. So he relished the moment even though he was trying his hardest not to tremble. The cold was biting, his head ached from it and the firewhisky.
"And I also have a present for you," he smiled. Things are starting to get blurry about what's supposed to have happened but he has to give her something. "You don't have to close your eyes," he said as he pulled it from his pocket. He gently put it on her outstretched hand.
Her eyes went wide as soon she saw what it was. "It's a Knight's Sacrifice seed!"
"Well, yeah." Draco said proudly at the dark seed with horned edges. It doesn't matter how he got it, but he got it in the end. It will beat all the flowers that has received and will ever receive.
"Who did you steal this from? Draco, it's not supposed to be in the syllabus until sixth year and I don't think you'd even be taking herbology come sixth year," Hermione closed her palm around it. "I'm taking this back to Professor Sprout."
"No, you wouldn't do that! I bought it!" he lied smoothly. Truth is, he nicked it.
"But it was never theirs to sell anyway! It's school property! Someone stole this from the greenhouse stores. I'm sure Professor Sprout would be delighted when I hand it over first thing tomorrow," she turned her nose in the air.
Draco huffed, his breath came out as a white puff, "Ever the teacher's pet, are we? Just hand it over. I'd give it to someone else." He reached forward and tried to take it from her. "Maybe someone will appreciate the effort and not snitch on me. Maybe I'd give it to the old catfucker Filch and maybe it will earn me a hall pass!"
"LANGUAGE!"
"Give me it!"
He tried to snatch the seed away from her while they continuously bickered under the falling snow. Their voices isolated by the world of frost, somehow amplifying them for them and them alone. None of them were wearing gloves and Draco tried to pry the seed from fingers.
"Ouch!" "Shit!"
"Wow, Granger. Language," Draco smirked at Hermione who was equally surprised by her choice of words. "I'm rubbing off on you quite nicely."
But she ignored him completely and was looking at his hands. "Draco, you're bleeding!"
The pooling red on the accumulated fresh snow between them instantly made him dizzy and more than just a little bit sick in his stomach, the wonderful feeling of butterflies replaced by a crippling dread. "Disgusting! Do something, will you? I'm dying!" The gore haunted his mind even as he closed his eyes.
"Draco, relax. It's just blood," Hermione rolled her brown eyes at him. He wanted to ask her to just come back inside the castle but he remembered that if they do their perfect snow globe will shatter. "You're such a drama queen, do you know?"
He watched her as she pressed her Gryffindor scarf on his wound. "I'm still not quite confident on using healing spells and pressure on the wound will stop the bleeding so this will do for now. I don't reckon this will put a dent on your living days, unfortunately."
It was a moment he could have frozen in time, with her head bent over so she could not see him
watching her as he was scared on the brink of tears. He watched her furrow her brows with concentration as she removed any trace of blood on his hand, her lips-- frost bitten and damp from the falling snow was partly open as she breathed visible breaths, long lashes casted shadows over her face. And he wanted to remember it all. If it weren't for his numb hands or the sense that they will both freeze to their deaths, this will be a perfect moment. Her dainty fingers held on to his wrist.
"Granger, you're bleeding too."
She looked disinterested as she opened and closed her hand. "Oh."
Draco is having none of it. She could have some sort of disease over this, you know? The cold could seep into her body and then form icicles with her blood and then just pierce her heart. What if, right? He used his white (horrendously expensive) handkerchief and pressed it in her hand. Both their hands felt like ice and he can't feel her skin. He swiftly casted a warming spell but it was weak over the one Hermione must have casted. "I'd ruin your handkerchief, Malfoy, jut leave it," she sighed. "I had my shots before I came here and your parents don't let you go outside so there's no contami--"
"Hush. It's just blood, I'm worried about the wound."
Yes. Just blood. That thing that circulates in your body to sustain you. If you cut enough people or see enough people getting cut, you'd know that everyone bleeds red. His father can shout in the manor rooftops that they are the blue bloods of the wizarding world but it won't change the fact that he bleeds the same red as Hermione does. And every single Muggle, wizard and witch out there despite backgrounds. Everyone is just plain human. Despite the magical fiber.
Hermione looked up and he realized the moment was over. "Bring the seed back, Mal-"
But the seed was nowhere to be found and in it's place was a blooming red flower, with scarlet petals forming a circle around its pearl like center. The dark vines have coiled around the bench, golden thorns still visible but somehow made it more exquisite. Hermione gasped at the sight of it.
It grew on blood. His? Hers? Both? Blood is blood.
Draco took the bloom of the plant and gave it to her. "This is my gift. I could have given it to you in a nicer way but--"
"But you gave it in your way and I accepted it in mine," Hermione smiled as she smelled the red flower. "It's so lovely."
You're lovelier.
A lone firework lit up the sky and the music started getting louder. It was a shower of magical glittering stars falling with the snow. "You should go back, Granger. Wouldn't want the 'Bulgarian bonbon' missing out on his date now, do we?" He rolled his eyes as he folded his arms to his chest.
Hermione giggled at how he quoted Rita Skeeter. "He's a nice guy. He gets it."
This is why Draco Malfoy doesn't want to be a 'nice guy', if he was a 'nice guy' Hermione Granger wouldn't be here with him. He'd rather be the slightly misunderstood, slightly dark and totally tragic character bur with lots of movable props.
"Well, I wonder how they are all holding up," he stood a bit unsteadily as knees won't stop shaking from the cold. And try as he might not to admit it-- the nerves.
Hermione looked at her quizzically, amber colored eyes still visible even in the bluish fairy light, "What do you mean?"
"No one inside will get a chance to dance with the bell of the ball," he offered her his hand. "Well, lucky me. Will you give me the pleasure?"
Hermione's eyes twinkled in the realization of his subtle compliment and she smiled gingerly. "Let me think about it..."
Draco felt like his legs are turning into jelly. Say yes. Say yes. Say yes.
"Oh, since there is no one else," she exaggerated a sigh. "And since you definitely begged."
Draco chuckled and grinned down at her flushed but smiling face. She will never let him forget this, won't she? He hopes she won't. She took his hand and they slow danced to an upbeat song. He rested his chin on top her sweet smelling head despite her protests about him stabbing her skull with his pointy chin. She listened to his heartbeat even as he protested that she was too close for his own comfort-- something about the invasion of his personal space. For he was praying that time will not follow his erratic heartbeats. That the snow will fall even slower. That the ticking of the clock will pause and let him linger but it just isn't so. He's meant to let her go when the clock strikes twelve. Both with just the small muggle shoe in their hands as evidence.
The snow continued falling on top of the piling secrets, broken vows and temporary highs.
All the rules have been broken.
All involved will suffer.
As the clock slowly ticked, calculating his accumulating debt.
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And I sincerely hoped that that was worth the 33 chapter wait. XD Most of my friends think that Wattpad is for lemony stories and rants so here's to you. Thank you for waiting! There's def going to be more action ahead. I only intend this to be 40 chapters but I might split the chapters because they might be too long. Currently working on chapter 34 and it's already ten pages on my phone 0_0
Song up top is 'Can't Help Falling in Love' by Twenty- One Pilots. This song is so lovely and heartbreaking at the same time. Anyone hear the shrug in his voice? The 'can't be helped' tone? It just gets me. >_<
Dedicated to everyone! Here's to #405 in the rankingsssssss!~