Dolor Draconum

Chapter the Tenth

It was sweet and short. Draco simply pressed his lips to Hermione's and hoped for the best, arm tight around her shoulders, hand entwining itself in her hair. She pressed against him, enjoy the kiss for what it was. When she pulled back gently, she kept staring into Draco's eyes. He smiled, letting his arm relax, and pulled back as well.

There was a very awkward pause.

"In the movies, this is the bit where it fades to black," Hermione sighed. "In the books, it's where the next chapter begins, a week later, or whatever. No one bothers with what happens after the kiss."

"I suppose I could go and ask Madam Pince to turn the lights off," Draco joked feebly.

Hermione regarded him steadily, hiding her amusement. Draco flushed, spots of colour appearing high on his cheekbones. He looked like some kind of china doll, eyes bright, lips pursed, hair flaxen. He wasn't stunning, but even Hermione could admit he was attractive, and right now his vulnerability was the most alluring factor. His eyes were huge, pleading with her to let him down gently. Hermione sighed.

"I should have been expecting that at some point," she said quietly, looking away.

Draco's jaw dropped. Had she been expecting that all along? The arrogance! "Don't flatter yourself!" he snapped suddenly. Draco decided he didn't like rejection, but he liked being treated like a predictable drone even less. "Do you expect every guy you meet to fall head over heels in love with you?" he asked waspishly.

"Have you?" Hermione looked at him out of the corner of one eye.

"No," Draco scoffed, but the wind had been taken out of his sails. Something in the back of his mind started to chant 'Freudian slip, Freudian slip' over and over again, but he silenced it quickly. Self-doubt could wait for nightfall, to stave off sleep and the accompanying nightmares.

"What I meant," Hermione said sternly, "was that I shouldn't have expected any relationship with a guy to be purely platonic. It's like what you were saying about Ron and Harry earlier. You immediately assumed I'd date one of them. I suppose it's impossible to have a relationship between a guy and a girl without some element of desire."

Draco frowned at her. "What are you saying? That girls can like boys without being attracted to them, but not vice versa? That's rather sexist."

"-" Hermione scowled. She had meant exactly that, but in her head it had sounded less prejudiced.

"I used to have several female friends to whom I wasn't attracted. In fact, they were all attracted to me," Draco told her haughtily. "So your little theory is way off."

"You mean Pansy Parkinson and her ilk, don't you?" Hermione said sceptically. "I'm not sure if they count. You weren't exactly friends, just a god and his worshippers."

"Funny how I was the most delicious thing since chocolate," Draco said cynically, "right up until the point when my father ended up in prison, my mother walked off and the family fortune started to rapidly drain away. I wonder if there's any connection?" he leant heavily on sarcasm.

"Shallow twits," Hermione managed to sum up both of their opinions in two simple words. By finding something they agreed on, the animosity that had begun to build drained away. Both students were stubborn people, and hated admitting they were wrong, so they both understood that it didn't need to be said. They connected on a level that neither did with anyone else: apologies weren't needed to know the other was sorry.

"You're nothing like them," Draco admitted. "I admire that."

Hermione blushed. "Thank you, I guess."

"Did I do a very stupid thing?" Draco asked softly. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I'm always doing stupid things. Seems to be my raison d'etre recently."

"Don't say that," Hermione scolded. "It wasn't a very stupid thing. It's just... you did it for the wrong reasons, I think."

"You don't have the faintest idea what my reasons are," Draco said defensively.

"That's true," Hermione conceded. "But the mere fact you regret it shows they were the wrong reasons." She sighed and shook her head. "I ought to go, I promised Harry and Ron I'd help them with the potions essay. I'll see you around, okay? I hope you enjoy the books." She walked steadily away from the alcove, not looking back. Draco watched her walk away, staring moodily at the back of her legs.

"But I don't regret it," he muttered.

* * *

Hermione had thought it would be a relatively simple thing to put the kiss to the back of her mind, but she found it extraordinarily difficult. If she concentrated, she could still taste him. She'd be halfway through a sentence in her Arithmancy homework and suddenly find herself wondering if he could still taste her. Every time she touched the back of her head it reminded her of how Draco and pushed his hand into her hair. The breeze outside was a hundred phantom caresses, the food in the great hall sweet touches to her lips.

She needed to tell someone what happened before she went mad.

Naturally, her thoughts first turned to Ron and Harry. She imagined what would happen if she told them. If it were a joke, it would be hilarious, but if she told them seriously she could kiss their friendship goodbye. Who then? Lavender, Parvati? There were several girls in her dormitory, but Hermione couldn't imagine sharing this with any of them. Gossips, the lot of them. They weren't exactly her biggest fans either. Her parents said they were jealous, but Hermione could be honest and say she probably just annoyed them.

"Hey," a familiar voice called. "What's got you so deep in thought?"

Hermione was sitting near the fire in the Gryffindor common room, feet tucked up onto the chair, book balanced on her knees. Ginny stood in front of her, looking down at her sympathetically. Hermione smiled suddenly. Of course, Ginny was the perfect person to confide in. And she could be trusted to keep a secret: Percy had managed to keep her quiet for almost an entire year.

"Can I talk to you in private?" Hermione asked, hoping it didn't sound too ominous.

"Uh, sure," Ginny said nervously.

They retreated to Hermione's dormitory, and sat facing each other on Hermione's bed. Despite Hermione's earlier desperate need to tell someone about what had happened, now she actually had to she found the words couldn't come out. The death toll was Draco's own words: "he's falling for you hard." Was Ron really in love with her? She was about to tell his little sister that she'd just kissed his worst enemy, and guilt was chewing her up inside. He was her best friend, for god's sake!

And that, oddly enough made her mind up for her. They were best friends. She didn't feel that way towards him. Maybe he was attracted to her, but she didn't want to sacrifice their friendship like that. She refused to let herself think about what it would do to their friendship if he ever knew about her and Malfoy.

"Ginny," Hermione said slowly, "I kissed Draco Malfoy."

Ginny's jaw dropped. Hermione's heart sank at the look of horrified surprise on her face. Could she pass it off as a joke? No, that would be worse than letting her know it was true.

Ginny started to giggle.

"It's not a joke," Hermione said crossly.

"I know!" Ginny spluttered. "It's just... just so... I don't know, ironic. Everyone's going on about how you two are a thing, and you weren't, and suddenly, oh god, it's too priceless for words!"

Hermione shook her head, relief hitting her like ton of bricks. "You're not... mad, are you?" she asked cautiously.

"What, because he's a cold, slimy, arrogant, prejudiced git?" Ginny waggled her eyebrows, "nah, coz he's a hot, cold, slimy... Okay, you know what I mean."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "You're kidding me!" she gasped.

"Well, a bit," Ginny grinned easily. "I know you're not that shallow."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked, a little miffed at Ginny's implication. Ginny just laughed it off again.

"So, give me the details," she demanded, eyes bright.

Hermione shrugged. "We were in the Muggle section of the library. I'd promised him some books, you know, those ones that arrived this morning. We talked for a bit, he made some comment about how much smoother he was than most teenage boys and kissed me. Then it all got very awkward."

"Those aren't details!" Ginny objected. "That's like saying Britain is an island with people on, where it rains quite a lot. At least give me a ball park estimate of the population!" Hermione grinned at her. "Okay, from the beginning," Ginny said in mock seriousness. "You left the hall with those books. Then what happened?"

"Well, I knew where Draco would be, so I went straight to the Muggle Section of the library. He was reading a book on Freud..."

* * *

'Self-doubt could wait for nightfall'. Draco stared at the canopy over his bed and cursed under his breath. There mere idea of developing a crush on a mudblood was repulsive to him, but somehow the concept of falling for Granger wasn't. Somewhere in his mind she had separated herself from the rest of her kind, proving herself a little more superior to other muggleborns.

"What the fuck are you growling about now, Malfoy?" Blaise snarled across the room. Draco shut up abruptly, but the damage had been done. Blaise clambered out of his bed and wandered over to lean on one of the posts of Draco's bed. "You think just because you're a prefect you can keep the rest of us awake? Perhaps the lesson hasn't sunk in yet," and he grinned.

Draco sighed. "Tell you what, I'll go and sleep in the common room again," he suggested hopelessly.

"Aw, diddums," came Crabbe's familiar voice from a nearby bed. "Can poor Draco-darling not sleep? Are his booboos hurting?"

"Hey, I taught you the meaning of 'sarcasm'," Draco snapped. "You could at least use it with a little finesse."

"Oh yes, because compared with you we are nothing but idiots," Goyle joined in. "Your richer, and smarter, and better looking, and wittier, and..."

"Glad someone's finally seen the truth," Draco said recklessly. His arm still wasn't working very well, and his legs were stiff, and if he moved too fast he got stabbing pains in his chest. So, goading them on it was practically suicide, but at least he'd get a good night's sleep in the ward, drugged up on painless potions and sleeping draughts.

Blaise Zabini, possessed of an intellect greater than Crabbe and Goyle's combined, looked Draco carefully up and down. "You could just go to Madam Pomfrey now," he said softly. "Why wait for us to mangle you?"

"Pride," Draco said bluntly.

"And why haven't you ratted us out yet?" he said just as softly, his voice an ominous hiss.

"Pride, self-preservation, stubbornness, shame," Draco counted on his fingers. "In that order," he added with a smirk.

Crabbe cracked his knuckles, but Zabini held up a hand. "No," he commanded in a certain tone. Draco knew that tone; he'd used it to order Crabbe and Goyle about for years. Those two were born to be brawn to someone else's brain, and Zabini was the natural replacement. "Boys, we're going to leave him alone. We're going to give him no reason to leave this room."

Goyle frowned. "Don't we want to hurt him?" he asked.

"Sure we do. That's why I'm taking away the painkillers," Blaise smiled cruelly. "That famous Malfoy Pride will keep him from admitting how much pain he's in. How well can a person sleep with broken ribs and limbs? No wonder he was muttering."

Crabbe and Goyle retreated to their beds again, but Blaise continued to stand over Draco, tossing the bottle of painless potion up and down. Draco's stomach flipped. Great, now he had pain to keep him awake, nightmares to wake him should he managed to doze off, and Hermione to think about as he lay in the agonising darkness. Blaise winked, tossed the bottle up one final time, and turned away. Draco automatically shot out a hand to grab it, but pain screamed up his side as he reached out and the bottle smashed on the floor.

"Sleep ti- oh no, don't," Blaise grinned as he climbed into bed.