Taboo

Hermione came downstairs the next morning to find Harry and Ron packing their trunks. Ron muttered something about a pair of socks and trudged back up to the boys' dormitory.

"What happened last night?" asked Harry, stuffing a pair of trousers into his already overflowing trunk. "Ron won't talk to me."

"I told him I wasn't going to the Burrow for the holidays."

"What? Why aren't you coming?" He shut the heavy lid and locked the trunk.

"I'm staying at Hogwarts this year," she said, a pang of guilt rising up in her throat.

"Why?" said Harry, suspicious.

"Research," she lied. "And I don't fancy going skiing with my mum and dad. I honestly don't know what they see in it."

"Look, Hermione, I know why you're staying. It's him, isn't it?" He shook his head, disgusted. "I can't believe you chose him over Ron."

"Ron won't want to see me at the Burrow anyway."

"Not anymore, he doesn't."

"Do you think he'll ever forgive me?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"I dunno," said Harry truthfully. He sighed, frustrated. "I really don't understand this, Hermione."

She didn't answer him. Instead, she went back upstairs and sat down on her bed. She leaned back against the headboard and drew her knees to her chest.

"I'm such a traitor," she said to herself. "But there's no going back now."

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On Christmas Eve, Hermione joined the dozen or so remaining students and the professors in the Great Hall for dinner. She sat at the end of the table, facing an empty seat. As plates were being passed around, another student rushed into the Great Hall.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. How kind of you to join us," said Professor Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling. Malfoy gave him a curt nod.

"Is this seat taken?" He indicated the empty chair across from Hermione.

"Obviously not," she said coolly.

He sat down and began selecting small tidbits of food from the serving plates, keeping his eyes focused on her the entire time. They both reached for the pitcher of iced pumpkin juice, their hands accidentally bumping. She met his eyes for a split second and looked away quickly.

"Ladies first," he said, offering it to her.

"Thanks," she said through gritted teeth. His eyes danced in amusement as he took the pitcher from her.

He took tiny bites, his eyes never leaving her face. She picked at her pork chops distractedly, darting nervous glances at him between mouthfuls. She cleared her throat and purposely dropped her napkin. She dived under the table in the pretense of retrieving her napkin and waited. His face appeared a second later.

"What?"

"Will you stop staring at me?" she hissed. "It's making me nervous."

"You're far more interesting to look at than the food," he said, shrugging.

"And why didn't you tell me you were staying?" she asked, ignoring his comment. "I mean, you never told me directly."

"My name is up on the list for everyone to see," he said. "Why are you staying?"

"Umm, what are you guys doing under there?" A Hufflepuff girl had stuck her head under the table.

"I dropped my napkin," said Malfoy and Hermione in unison.

"Right," said the girl skeptically. She continued to watch them throughout the rest of dinner.

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"So," said Malfoy, helping Hermione carry all her carefully wrapped presents to the Owlery. "You never got the chance to answer my question. Why are you staying?"

"Because...I saw that you were," she admitted in a low voice.

"And what if I wasn't staying?"

She pretended to be busy tying a parcel to an owl's leg.

"Off you go then." They both watched as the owl soared gracefully out the open window into the night.

"I'm not the only reason you're staying." He leaned against the wall, arms folded. "You wanted to get away from Weasley."

"Good night, Draco," she said dismissively, pushing past him. Malfoy sighed. He knew it would be useless to press her.

Yawning, Hermione climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitory. She changed into her nightgown and climbed into her large bed (perks of being a prefect). She tried not to think of Ron, but Malfoy's words echoed in her mind: "I'm not the only reason you're staying." She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the covers up to her chin.

She was standing outside the Burrow, knocking on the door. Mrs. Weasley's face appeared at the window.

"Go away! We don't want you here!" she shooed, scowling.

"But Mrs. Weasley--" she protested, her voice weak.

"You're not welcome here."

She turned around and found herself facing Ron, who had his arm wrapped around Pansy Parkinson. They sneered at her.

"Ron?" she said in astonishment. "Pansy?"

"You see," said Ron, giving Pansy a kiss on the forehead. "She thought I was good enough for her."

"Ron--" The scene swirled before her eyes.

"Miss Granger," said Professor Dumbledore, harshly. "I am extremely disappointed in your behavior. I expected better of you. You will be removed to Azkaban shortly."

"But I didn't do anything!" Her own voice sounded high and childish.

"That's what they all say." She recognized that voice.

"Rita? Rita Skeeter?" A newspaper was thrown in front of her. She saw her own face staring back at her beside the headline "Murder At Hogwarts."

"How tragic," said Rita, unsympathetically. "A prefect committing and unspeakable act...I'm sure it would make for an intriguing interview..."

"No...no! I didn't do it!"

Two hooded men appeared at her side. "Take her away," came the order.

"No, please! I didn't do it!"

"I can't believe you would do this," came Harry's voice. "He was my best mate. I thought you loved him."

"Harry! Help me! I swear I didn't do it!"

"You are dead to me."

"Noooo!"

She sat up, panting. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the bright morning light shining through the curtains. It was only a dream... Relieved, she sank back into the covers. Her hand hit something warm and soft.

"Mmmf..." Malfoy opened his eyes blearily. "What time is it?"

Hermione screamed and jumped out of bed, trying to cover herself up with the blankets. "How did you get in here!" she shrieked.

"I have my ways." He stretched and rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?" he repeated.

"How long have you been here? Why are you here?"

"Since about four in the morning." He checked his reflection in the mirror on the nightstand. "I need a shower."

"I said, what are you doing here?"

"I'm your Christmas present. See?" He got out of bed, revealing that he had a large red bow tied around his waist.

"You wore that to sleep?" she said incredulously.

"Nah. I put it on when I got here."

"That still doesn't explain what your were doing in my bed."

"It was chilly," he shrugged, "and your bed looked rather cozy."

"Stay there," she said, heading for the bathroom. "And don't try anything funny."

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" He blocked the doorway.

"To get dressed so I can go down to breakfast." She tried to get past him.

"That won't be necessary. I've arranged for breakfast in bed," he said smugly. He snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared with a crack that made Hermione jump.

"Breakfast, sir and miss," squeaked the elf, bowing and placing a covered tray on the nightstand. He disappeared with another loud crack.

"Get back in bed," he commanded. She dragged the blankets with her obediently. He set the tray across her lap. "Enjoy."

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked, as he pulled the covers back over himself.

"I'll eat later. Happy Christmas," he said, kissing her on the forehead. He ripped off the ridiculous bow, flung it aside, and snuggled back under the covers. "Wake me when you're done."

The mouthwatering smell of blueberry pancakes greeted her as she lifted the cover off the tray. Dousing them with maple syrup, she dug in. Finished, she set the tray back on the nightstand and got up to brush her teeth. When she came back, Malfoy had already fallen asleep again, his chest rising and falling gently with each breath. She crawled into bed as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb him.

She lay down beside him, their faces barely a foot apart. She felt his breath on her face. His pale eyelashes cast shadows down his cheeks. She reached out her hand and inched it towards his face, her fingers trembling. Without warning, his hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist. Then he rolled on top of her, careful not to crush her under his warm weight. He kissed her, his eyes still closed.

"Mmm...you taste like blueberries," he murmured, flipping onto his side. He opened his eyes to look at her.

"You...render me speechless," breathed Hermione, her lips tingling.

"Then don't say anything," said Malfoy, kissing her again.