The Things We Never Say

THE THINGS WE NEVER SAY

Footprints

Chapter Four

Draco walks through the dank, damp Slytherin common room filled with deep green furniture and soulless eyes, watching, watching every move he makes with calculating minds. They have often asked him where he is going, and every night he gives the same reply--out. He knows if he tells them the truth, some idiot would want to follow him, to join him, and he cannot have that. He needs to be alone, and strangely enough, he has learned that he is not alone on his nightly outings. Someone else leaves footprints in the grass--small indentions on the soft earth, left behind in short, quick strides.

Tonight as he grabs his broom and slips out a side door, his stomach feels constricted, and he is troubled. He remembers the first night, after flying practice, he noticed two sets of footprints that were not his own. They came to the Quidditch pitch and left. They were left behind by someone much smaller than he, (perhaps a female) and his mind quickly wondered who would have watched him and not announced her presence. At the time, he found it slightly irritating that his mind wanted it to be a specific someone, but he had no proof of who it was--for she was stealthy and hid herself in the deep shadows of the night. He only knew she was present when he left the pitch each night because he could see her tiny footprints--the only part of her he was allowed to see.

Tonight he feels nervous because he wants to confront whoever is continuously watching him, and part of him is afraid it is her--Hermione Granger.

On his way to the pitch, he leaves behind his footprints in the grass, and he wonders if she purposely always leaves hers right beside his, as if they are walking there together. He shrugs off the notion as foolish and ridiculous. He would never walk by her side. Of course, there was a time when he would have died from disgust if someone had told him he would be kissing her--funny how things can change so quickly.

He tries to clear his mind as he enters the pitch. He pulls the snitch out of his pocket and releases it. He jumps on his broom and zooms off into the cool night sky. For a few brief moments he forgets about everything except the wind against his face and the feel of the air rushing past his body as he chases the snitch.

He makes catch after catch and soon slows his flight as he wonders if she is somewhere nearby. He makes a particularly daring descent and drops outside the pitch, zooming around to the entrance where he proceeds to hop off his broom and lean it against the outer wall. He looks down; there is a second set of footprints in the grass...not three. Whoever is watching him has not yet left.

He walks through the entrance as quietly as possible. It doesn't take him long to see who is there with him. She is sitting on the grass, hiding in the shadows, but she is no longer hidden from him. He watches her for a moment. Then, as if she senses something different in the air, she glances up. He knows she no longer sees him flying. She stands abruptly to her feet, dropping the book from her lap; it lands face down on the grass--he knows she is truly surprised because she would never mishandle her books. She looks panicked, and he doesn't know if he feels relieved to find out who is there with him or irritated.

She suddenly whirls around and stands looking directly at him.

"Draco," she whispers nervously. Her voice is surprised, as is her face.

He is so startled to hear her say his first name that he cannot speak for a moment. She looks too frightened to move.

"What are you doing?" he finally asks.

Her book still lies at her feet, overturned and opened. She does not answer immediately. "Nothing," she replies as she glances away from him.

He can still see a frightened look in her eyes. He wonders why she is afraid, and yet it makes him feel more confident. Catching Hermione Granger unprepared is rare, and it's becoming a habit.

"Does anyone know you're out here?" he asks, taking a few steps closer to her. Shadows fall over his face and chest, and he continues to watch her face.

"No," she responds.

He steps closer to her still. "No one? Not Potter? Or Weasley?" Now he is so close to her that she leans her head back to look up at his face in the darkness.

She shakes her head and whispers the word, "No."

"That doesn't seem like a very smart thing to do. It's after midnight and no one knows where to find you. And you're no longer alone. What would they say if they knew the truth?" he asks, lifting up a piece of her hair and slipping it through his fingers.

Draco notices her body shiver slightly. She closes her eyes and pulls in a slow breath. He can only assume she is trying to compose herself while she searches for an answer.

"They would never believe the truth," she whispers, opening her eyes and looking up at him.

"And you?"

"I no longer know what to believe."

Draco says nothing else. He leans down to close the distance between their faces and begins to kiss her. She sighs against his mouth, and the intensity multiplies so rapidly between them that soon he finds his fingers unclasping her robes. He wonders if she will stop him soon, but she says nothing.

Draco finds his ability to control his urges become increasingly difficult, and the way Hermione sighs against him makes it nearly impossible. He pushes her small body into the outer wall of the Quidditch pitch where they proceed to become a tangle of arms and roaming hands.

He holds and touches Hermione Granger in ways he would never have imagined--not in his worst nightmares--and he finds it completely maddening. But not as maddening as the way she touches him. His breath becomes caught in his throat so many times that he wonders if she is actually pulling the life force out of his body. If she is, he doesn't even care because he has never felt this way before. The passion pounds inside his body and inside his head--he wonders if he will actually explode into a million pieces before long.

Their bodies shift from the wall to the damp grass, but before anything more can happen, Hermione pulls away. Draco watches her sit in the grass and try to control her ragged breathing. He wonders what she is thinking, and if the night is finished for him. His body is still surging with desire.

She finally turns to him, and he is surprised when she reaches out and places her hand on his cheek. It is a kind gesture that is completely foreign to him, but his body responds to it immediately. He watches her lean over and place her lips gently on his before she pulls away. Draco knows he can handle the passion, but the gentleness causes his insides to shiver, and he isn't sure he likes it--yet.

She stands to her feet, grabs her things and quickly leaves her footprints behind in the grass. He sits for a while longer before he can bring himself to his feet. His head is still reeling, and he can't stop thinking about the last gentle kiss she gave him. He can't understand why he feels more impacted by that one gesture. Shouldn't the intensity leave more of a mark on his mind? It doesn't.

He walks back to the castle, leaving the last set of footprints beside her retreating ones. He tries not to admit it to himself, but something has changed inside him. Tonight something has shifted, and he knows things have been altered permanently. He wonders if he is prepared--if he ever will be.