Deny

Chapter Nine

It took exactly seven seconds for Hermione's hand to connect with the side of Draco's face.

She moved backwards, taking several steps away from him, and stood panting. She stared at him, watching as he pressed his hand to the red welt on his cheek. He didn't look at her.

"I told you I'd do something we both regretted," he muttered, before disappearing through the doorway.

She stood there, her chest heaving erratically, still staring after him. He'd just kissed her! What was happening here? Her world was being turned upside down, and she wasn't sure that she liked it. Ron and Harry would have killed him if they'd been here. They might have even turned on her for allowing it to happen. She frowned. Ron and Harry would never have turned on her, no matter what she'd done. She knew that for a fact.

Draco Malfoy was being civil to her. No, not just civil - he'd been behaving as though they were friends. A wry smile crossed her face at that thought. Friends who annoy the living hell out of each other, she thought. She flopped down in her armchair in the living room and was struck by a thought.

Hadn't that been the way she and Ron had started out?

She and Ron had been exact opposites, and he had annoyed her to no end. She and Draco had so many things in common that she couldn't even begin to name them all. They were both intelligent, book-smart, they enjoyed a lot of the same things... and he'd kissed her. The blood rushed to her face and she began chewing on her thumbnail.

Why had he kissed her? Had it just been to shut her up? Because Ron had admitted that he'd done that to her a few times. Blaise had admitted to doing it once. Had Draco done the same thing? And why had he called her 'pet' twice now?

She growled in frustration and shook her head. Why must she overanalyze everything? Everything had to have an equation; it all had to add up and come out correctly. Then again, she always had had the tendency to think in formulas. She frowned and buried her head in her hands.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Draco listened to her out in the other room, growling and making little noises. No doubt she was trying to deduce why he'd kissed her; she was probably wracking her brain, searching for a reason. He smirked at the thought - she wasn't going to come up with one any time soon. Even he didn't know why he'd done it.

What was happening to him? Being trapped in this house alone with her and no magic was a dangerous thing for him. It was even more dangerous, in his opinion, than being locked in a life-or-death duel. With no magic, he had to rely on his people skills to interact with her, and people skills were not his strong suit.

Any of the friendships he'd had in school had been instigated by the other person when they'd found out who his father was. Money, prominence, friends - they were all interwoven because of his father's name. He'd never had to work for a thing in his entire life. Learning came easily to him; he'd rarely had to crack a book in order to be able to ace a test. Quidditch wasn't as easy, but it still wasn't something he'd had to work too much at to succeed.

Even with Potter stealing the limelight most of the time, Draco hadn't had to exert himself to regain it. Good light, bad light - all shades of fame were the same to him. There was no distinction - not until her.

He'd watched Snape and his father being tortured, well hidden in the trees surrounding the Manor. After he was sure that the Death Eaters had gone, he'd rushed forward to examine the bodies for himself. His father was already dead, his eyes wide and unseeing. He hadn't wasted too much time before moving to Snape, who was by some miracle, still breathing. Barely. Snape had squinted at him, trying to see who he was.

"It's me, Professor. Draco."

"Find Dumbledore. He'll protect you." The words escaped him in his final breath, and Draco was left with two lifeless bodies. He'd fled then; gone straight to Hogwarts as quickly as his legs would carry him. He didn't dare risk Apparating - the Death Eaters would be looking for magical activity, and it would lead them straight to him.

Once inside Dumbledore's office, Draco had told him everything that he knew. He'd told him everything he'd ever been privy to concerning the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters. He'd told him how the Dark Marks that the Death Eaters wore were weakening, and Voldemort hadn't regained enough power to be able to recast the spell that made the mark. New Death Eaters hadn't even been marked yet, so it was difficult to tell who was a follower and who wasn't.

With the weakening of the Marks came the inability to summon the Death Eaters. Instead of working on recasting the spell, Voldemort had spent his time and energy punishing each of those men who didn't come immediately when summoned. He didn't care to hear their explanations - Voldemort didn't accept excuses, Draco explained - and he refused to tolerate their lateness to meetings.

He told Dumbledore that he suspected that that's why his father and Snape had been killed. Imagine his surprise, then, when Dumbledore explained that Snape had been a double agent, and he believed that Voldemort had finally discovered that fact. Dumbledore was greatly saddened by Snape's loss, and spoke highly of him, which also surprised Draco.

Then came the moment of truth. Did he want to walk away from the fight altogether, or did he want to fight alongside Dumbledore? The choice really hadn't been his to begin with, and he felt sure that Dumbledore realized that. Once Voldemort noticed that he was missing, Draco would be a part of the fight, regardless of if he wanted to be or not. Why not go down trying to kill the bastard that had killed his father?

His introduction into the Order of the Phoenix had been short and bitter. Dumbledore had brought him into the meeting undisguised, letting everyone see that he was there and a part of the team. If he hadn't been so used to it, the glares of hatred might have broken him that night. The only one who hadn't been glaring at him had been her, and she'd been regarding him with open curiosity.

After the meeting had ended, she'd approached him fearlessly and extended her hand. He'd stared at it at first, wondering what she was up to. She'd frowned and made some comment about her not having cooties, and he'd taken her hand. From that moment on, she'd been his friend; his defender, even though he'd never wanted one.

Falling in love with Ginny had been so easy. She hadn't cared what he was like before joining the Order - she'd known, and she hadn't cared. She'd accepted him for who he was at that moment, and he'd been a changed man. She'd welcomed him into her life with open arms, introducing him around the Order and trying to help him gain some footing.

The night he'd gone to her flat with a bouquet of fresh roses was the night he'd found out that she was dead. She was nowhere to be found, and there were signs of a struggle in her apartment. He'd rushed back to Dumbledore to tell him, but Dumbledore had stopped him from leaving his office. They knew that Ginny had been attacked, he'd said. They'd found her that afternoon.

When Draco asked where she was being kept, Dumbledore told him. He'd also told him he couldn't see her. Draco had balled up his fists and dared Dumbledore to try and stop him, before he went into the room she was in. His heart had nearly stopped beating when he'd seen her.

She was lying on a bed in the infirmary. Her skin was almost as white as the sheets she was lying on. Her bright copper hair was fanned out around her head, framing her angelic face. Her eyes were closed and she looked totally at peace, even though he could see scratches and other marks all the way down her naked arms. His face reflected his disgust when he saw that the Death Eaters had tried to carve the Dark Mark in her left forearm with some sort of instrument.

Dumbledore had come in and forced him away from Ginny's body, reassuring him that she was in a better place now, and that she'd never feel pain again. Draco had collapsed in the old man's office, sobbing like a child.

After he'd regained some composure, it was then that Dumbledore had broken the bad news to him. Ginny's family, along with some other members of the Order, thought he'd been the one who'd killed her. Apparently the Death Eaters had planned this, and they had planted some instruments of torture at his temporary home (the flat he'd been using since joining the Order).

Draco had listened with a growing feeling of numbness. What else could he do? Where would he go? Now he would be hunted by both good and bad sides, alike. Dumbledore had told him, though, that he did have one final option. There was a home he could go to and stay while his name was being cleared. The woman was a widow and lived alone, and although she was a proficient, gifted witch, she had forsaken magic altogether. Draco would be safe there, because Dumbledore knew for a fact that the Death Eaters believed this woman to be insignificant to their cause now.

He had accepted his banishment with a feeling of foreboding. Why did he still live, when his reason for living was gone?

Then she'd opened the door, and he'd been surprised as hell. She looked bad; he almost hadn't recognized her. Might not have, if it hadn't been for the familiar stubborn glare she'd aimed at him after he'd first spoken. After that, there could be no denying that it was really her.

He never should have agreed to come here. Albeit it was a more luxurious prison than Azkaban, he should be in jail, rotting for what he'd done. He'd gotten sloppy with Ginny; had been too wrapped up in the warm blanket of her affection to realize that going out with her in public had endangered her life. He was responsible for her death, even if he hadn't done it himself.

But instead of being punished, here he was, in Hermione's home. She'd been kind to him, even though he'd never given her reason to. She'd taken him out and bought things for him, and made him feel like a real, live person again. Where was the gain for her in all of this?

He snorted as he went to look at himself in the full-length mirror that hung on the inside of the closet door. Why was he always so set on believing that everyone wanted something from him? She had nothing to gain from him. Nothing but his company, which she had made clear from the second day that she'd accept, if he wanted to offer it. And what had he done in return?

He'd violated her. He'd kissed her. Where the hell was the sense in that? And he still couldn't figure out why he'd done it. He watched his reflection as he licked his lips. He could still taste her. His eyes closed and he leaned back against the wall as he recalled the smell of her perfume - the way her lips had felt beneath his. A soft moan escaped him, and he had to shake his head to try and clear the thoughts away.

She was his defender, the reason that he was alive right now. The only reason. He could only hope that that kiss hadn't ruined everything. The only thing he was sure of now was that he needed to stay away from her as much as possible, because if he didn't, he might repeat his misdeed.

His lips were already aching for more contact with hers.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Hermione spent a restless night trying to sleep on the sofa. She kept waiting for Draco to emerge, but so far he hadn't, and she needed to talk to him. Her mind just would not accept the fact that he'd kissed her without warning or reason, and she had to know why he'd done it. She hadn't meant to dwell on it for so long; she wanted to just go to sleep and forget about it, but she couldn't. Her brain demanded a logical, rational reason for that sort of contact, and she couldn't supply it herself.

She tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable enough to go to sleep, but sleep would not come. She was too hot, then she was too cold, and then the sofa was too lumpy. Any reason that she could possibly find to keep herself awake, she dwelled on. Finally she gave up on sleep and settled for simply lying there, staring up into the darkness.

She had just begun to drift off when she heard the sound of footsteps shuffling softly through the hallway. Her eyes flew open and her heart began to pound inside her chest, but she did not move. She was afraid if she alerted him to her presence, he might leave again.

When she felt him sit down on her feet, though, all she could do was yelp.

He jumped up quickly, and she heard him curse under his breath. She sat up and pushed herself into the corner of the couch. After a moment, she could hear the rustling of his clothes as he moved to leave the room.

"Wait!" she called softly. "Please don't go." The rustling stopped, but he didn't say anything. She knew that he must be standing at the threshold of the hallway with his back turned to her, waiting for her to say what she needed to say.

"We need to talk."

"No, I really don't think we do," he said, his voice low and steady. "I think we've done all of the talking we need to do."

"So, what now?" she asked, perturbed. "Now you're just going to walk away from me and pretend that nothing ever happened, and we're going to go back to normal?"

"Something like that, yeah. Although I doubt that anything between us was normal to begin with." He started to move, but was stopped by an invisible barrier. His eyes widened in the dark, and he whirled around. "Turn the lights on."

"I can't reach the switch," she complained. "And don't think you're going to get out of this by distracting me."

"You don't need the bloody switch, woman! Turn the damned lights on already!"

A small puff of breath escaped her before the lights came on, and he found himself standing almost nose-to-nose with a very angry Hermione. She didn't even seem to notice that she'd done what he'd asked.

"Who do you think you are, coming in here and bossing me around? This is my house, remember? If I want you to sit and talk to me, you should at least have the common courtesy to do so!" Her eyes were blazing. Draco started to tremble - not because of fear, but because the blood was rushing away from his head much quicker than he was used to.

"I haven't forgotten whose house it is - do you mind?" he asked, stepping backwards. "I can't talk with you up in my face like that!"

"Since when?" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Do you even realize what you just did?" he asked, his voice cool. "You blocked me from leaving the room when I said I didn't want to talk to you."

"What?" She looked surprised. He pointed behind him.

"There's a barrier there. I can't leave the room unless you take it down. Not to mention that you turned on the lights without using the switch, and I know you did that consciously, because I told you to do it."

"Ridiculous," she scoffed.

"What's ridiculous, that you did it consciously, or that you did it because I told you to?" He smirked at her. Her palms itched to slap that smirk right off of his face.

"That I did it because you told me to," she said, frowning at him. "And why didn't you want to talk to me, anyway?" His smirk faded.

"We've nothing to talk about. You have no business talking to me, or trying to be my friend. It will all end badly, anyway."

She stared at him. "Are you planning something that I don't know about?"

"No. Things just happen that way."

"I'm not Ginny," she said gently. "I'm not going to get hurt just because you're here, Draco. No one but Dumbledore knows where you are. You're safe here."

"I know you're not Ginny," he said calmly. "But I'm still me. I can't change that - and I'm dangerous to you, whether you realize it or not. So why don't we make things easier on the both of us, and agree to leave each other the hell alone?"

"I can't do that," she said softly, dropping her arms to her sides. "You know I can't."

"Why not?" he asked, his voice laced with anger.

"Because I like you." His stomach turned a quick flip-flop as she turned her back to him.

"You what?"

"I like you," she murmured. "Even if we do fight, we're still getting along nicely. We have things in common. I'm not willing to just throw that away." He swallowed down the lump in his throat.

"We fight like cats and dogs," he protested. She turned and gave him a half-smile.

"Are you calling me a feline again? Because I already told you, I'm no feline." He smiled before he could help himself, and her smile widened.

"Stop that," he said quietly, turning his face away.

"Stop what?"

"Quit trying to make things right between us. Things have never been right between us, and they never will be, no matter what happens."

"Bollocks." He turned his head sharply and stared at her. The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "They're already right."

"They're not," he said angrily. "Why do you say that? They've never been more wrong! I kissed you, for Circe's sake!"

"Maybe that's all we needed," she said, shrugging. "Something to break down the barriers we've built around ourselves. Maybe now we can be friends. There's nothing left keeping us from it."

He stared at her as though she'd just told him that she was a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

"You're insane," he murmured. "Solitude has turned your brain to mush."

"You know that's not true," she admonished gently. "Why is this such a hard thing to accept?"

"You've gone round the twist."

"I have not!" She stomped her foot petulantly.

"You know that you look like a spoiled brat when you do that, right?" he asked, highly amused.

"And you sound like one all the time, but I never say it, do I?"

"Why don't you?"

"What?"

"When you think I'm behaving badly, why don't you tell me?"

"I do, or haven't you been paying attention for the last few days?" She frowned.

"It won't work, Weasley. We're too different. We can't be friends."

"Why not? You were friends with Ginny," she pointed out, her cheeks going pink. "And we have lots more in common than you'd like to think."

"Ginny and I were not friends, we were lovers," he said, enunciating the word. She flushed scarlet.

"We could be friends."

"We can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

"You stubborn bastard!" Tears filled her eyes and made her vision blurry. "Do you know how rare it is to find real friends?"

"Indeed, I do."

"Then why do you keep saying no to me?"

"Because I can't be friends with you."

"Give me a reason."

"Because I'm attracted to you." Oh, shit. The words had slipped out before he could catch them, and now there was no taking them back. She was staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights, and he swore softly. "See what I mean? This is exactly what I was talking about!" He turned to leave, but found the barrier was still blocking him.

"Take it down, Weasley." When she just looked confused, he sighed. "The barrier. Take it down."

"No." He turned and glared at her.

"Now."

"No."

"I mean it, Weasley!"

"I mean it, too. No." She stood her ground, with her hands on her hips. His eyes narrowed and began glittering dangerously. He reminded her of a trapped animal. Truly, she did have him trapped - he was cornered, with nowhere to go.

"I will sit in this room with my eyes closed and ignore you until you take it down," he threatened. "I will not listen to one word that comes out of your mouth!"

"Not even if I tell you that I'm attracted to you, too?" He snorted.

"Right, there's a good way to persuade me to listen. Lie to me some more. What are you going to say next, that you've always been attracted to me?"

"No, I'm not going to say that, because then I would be lying. You were an insufferable git in school, and I was not attracted to you at all." He stared at her, the sarcastic smile fading from his lips.

"You were a know-it-all goody two-shoes, and I hated you."

"You still are a know-it-all, and I hated you more."

"That's not possible," he said, shaking his head. "I had more reasons to hate you. You always beat me out for highest marks in any class. You were best friends with Potter. You got away with murder when it came to rulebreaking. You could do no wrong."

"You called me Mudblood constantly, and belittled any good that I did. You always got me into trouble with Snape, and you mocked my friends and I at every turn. And I didn't see you getting into any trouble either, buddy." She emphasized her last sentence by poking him in the chest with her index finger.

They stared at each other for a long moment before their lips crashed together.

Chapter Ten

It was a furious kiss, fueled by intense emotion. Teeth clacked together and tongues dueled as they kissed. He was unaware of the precise moment that her arms wound around his neck, and she wasn't sure at exactly what point that he wrapped his arms around her waist.

His hands snaked up her back, entangling themselves in her hair, and pulling her face closer. Their breaths were intermingled as they kissed, which only made his pulse race more. Somewhere inside the kiss, she moaned softly. The noise brought him back to reality, and he let go of her, breaking the kiss. He stepped backward and tried to catch his breath. She pressed trembling fingers to her lips and stared at him.

"What just happened here?" she whispered.

"I kissed you again," he said quietly, running a shaking hand through his hair.

"But it wasn't just you this time - I did it, too."

"I told you I couldn't be friends with you."

"I can't believe this is happening," she said, shaking her head. Her fingers were still pressed to her lips, and Draco noticed for the first time that her wedding band was gone. He was fairly certain he'd seen her wearing it just yesterday. He frowned in confusion.

"Can't believe what's happening?" She looked up at him, her eyes full of amazement and wonder.

"We just kissed, and I didn't hate it," she said, awed. His frown deeped.

"Thanks, I think."

"No, I mean - I always thought that kissing you would make me physically sick, but-"

"Merlin, Hermione! You really know how to cut down a man's ego, don't you?" he asked incredulously.

"I didn't mean that, I only meant that I disliked you so much in school that it was always difficult to imagine what kissing you would be like." He went very still and eyed her for a moment before grinning cheekily.

"You imagined kissing me in school?" Her cheeks turned scarlet.

"I didn't say that."

"You most certainly did! Damn, if I'd known that all of the Gryffindor girls were so hot for me, I might have broadened my horizons a little!"

"Stop that," she said, barely containing a laugh. "It isn't true, and you know it! It was only natural for me to be curious after I'd read Ginny's diary."

"Well, I'd be lying if I told you I never imagined kissing you, either." Her eyes widened.

"What? But you hated me!" He shrugged.

"Love, hate - they both involve passionate feelings, don't they?"

"And what did you think?"

"I thought it would be very much like kissing a book. Cold, hard, and unfeeling." She cocked her head to give him a strange look.

"That's funny; that's just how I imagined you'd feel."

"Guess we were both wrong, weren't we?" he asked, his voice husky.

"Very wrong," she agreed, nodding. Then, "Do you still dislike me?"

"What?" He looked as though she'd caught him off guard.

"Do you still hate me? Is that what this is about?"

"You know what, Hermione? Sometimes a kiss is just that - a kiss. There doesn't always have to be some deep meaning behind it."

"It didn't mean anything?" she asked, surprised.

"You were lonely. You haven't been kissed in four years. I'm lonely, too. We're stuck here alone in your house together, a man and a woman. Something was bound to happen." She frowned.

"So you just kissed me because you were lonely?"

"No!"

"So you kissed me because you thought I was lonely?" He threw his hands up in frustration.

"No! I did it because I wanted to do it! Now will you leave it alone, and take down the barrier so I can go to bed? As fun as all of this has been, I really don't feel like sitting up for the rest of the night so we can rehash the details! Not everything has a logical explanation, and some things just happen because they happen."

"I don't think the barrier is up anymore," she said softly. "But I don't want you to go."

"Do you know what will happen if I stay out here with you?" he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. "Because to date, I've never been satisfied with just a kiss."

"I thought you just said that sometimes a kiss doesn't mean anything else."

"Quit being difficult and twisting my words around on me! It's a turn on, and I don't want to be turned on!"

"Please stay."

"I can't. You know that I can't. It's too soon for you."

"Too soon for me?" Her eyes widened. "Draco, in case you haven't noticed, I've been alone for four years. It's great that you want to be noble here, but this really isn't the time!"

"I can't believe this," he said, squeezing his eyes shut. "You're standing here and telling me that you want me to stay, even though you know that if I did, I wouldn't be a gentleman about it. This is not happening to me."

"What if this is all we're allowed?" she asked sadly. "What if tomorrow we wake up, and find out you're a free man? What happens then?"

"Then I walk out of your life and never come back," he said resolutely. She looked to be on the verge of tears.

"You can't mean that."

"I can, and I do."

"You would leave me just like that, no looking back?"

"No looking back."

"Then what would it hurt to give me something to remember you by?"

"Something to remember me by?" His gaze was one of disbelief. "I think I've given you plenty to remember me by, over the years."

"Give me something positive."

"No." He turned and got halfway down the hallway when he heard her again.

"Chicken."

"That's not going to work on me, you know," he said quietly. "I was never a Gryffindor. Bravery means nothing to me."

"Apparently neither do I." He turned on his heel and leveled an icy glare at her.

"You never did."

"Why do you try so hard? I know you're lying."

"Am I?"

"Aren't you?" She tilted her head to the side again and gave him a soft look as she walked towards him. He wanted to move; wanted to back away and forget that this moment had ever happened. Instead he found himself rooted to the spot as she neared. She reached out and brushed her fingertips lightly against the side of his face. He closed his eyes against the contact, trying hard to ignore the electricity that passed through her skin to his.

"Why are you trying so hard to keep me here?" he asked softly, not opening his eyes. "I don't understand what's happening between us."

"I don't understand it, either. All I know is that somehow, even through our bickering, we're connecting, and in a big way. I don't want to lose that. You're the only person I've had a connection to in a long time."

His eyes flew open.

"Connection," he gasped. She nodded and gave him a faint smile.

"Yes."

"No - connection," he repeated, his eyes widening. "Don't you see? It's responsible for your wandless magic! Your connection with someone!"

"What?"

"When you lost your connection with Weasley, you became angry and it sparked your magic. When you found a connection with me, you started using your magic again!"

"Are you telling me that my magic was jump-started by you?"

"I'm not for certain, although it would make sense! You didn't want me to leave earlier, so you created a barrier to keep me here. You turned the lights on when I said something. See a pattern?" She frowned.

"But what about when we were outside, and you were warm, but I wasn't?"

"That was you. You're just too big hearted for your own damned good, keeping me warm before taking care of yourself."

"Do you really think I'm that selfless? I think you're giving me more credit than is due."

"No, I believe it. Now, how do you control it? When I told you to turn the light back on, how did you do it?"

"I don't remember."

"We're going to have to work on this tomorrow, you know. Get some rest, so you'll be ready in the morning." He turned to head down the hallway.

"Where are you going?"

"To bed, where else would I be going?" he snorted.

"I thought you might stay with me."

"Look," he said, turning to face her. "I told you how it's got to be. We can't - we just can't. I need to be able to walk away from here when this is all over, and if anything happens between us, I won't be able to do that with a clean conscience."

"Something already has happened between us."

"Not enough to make me stay."

"I don't need you to stay."

"It's not always about you," he said softly, turning and disappearing inside his room. She stood staring after him for a long moment, before retreating to her own bedroom and closing the door.