Chapter Text
It was far past midnight, the time when the Slytherin common room was completely deserted with only a bluish light from the lake illuminating the corners. It's silent in the most nerve-wrecking way, it's fearful how it makes you tip-toe faster into the safety of your dorm. It almost has a life of its own, the room, the swaying of the distant mermaids, the flickering of the candles.
And in the middle of all the suspense lay Draco sighing furiously as he turned the page on the piano sheet, he was sitting on the leather seat, an open-buttoned shirt and a loosened tie. His bleached slicked back hair glistened under the poor lighting, it made him stand out from all the gloomy decor.
He began playing again, his hands dancing along the notes masterfully. Each note at each timed moment, the right beat, all planned, all scheduled. He played like he was savoring a feast that was going to be taken from him. Like he was running away from something, and striving for perfection. And with its melody, a wave began in the center of the common room that enchanted and expanded around him only to become a crash as he slammed his hands on the piano, the echo of a C sharp echoing into the Slytherin seal.
“Malfoy.” an endless voice filled the air in between his fingers, he refused to acknowledge it. He knew the voice like the color of his ceiling, he recognized the steps like his own heartbeat.
“Malfoy.” Not a movement, not a glimpse, his eyes stayed straight ahead at the scripture waiting for the concentration to come back, for the music notes to regain their sense. He was miserable, deep in a bucket of uncried tears of unshouted frustration, just pain. Pain and painful thoughts.
The voice was not only stern but closer when it silently roared “Draco”.
A shiver ran through his spine forcing him to turn the sweetness of his name on her lips, opening his eyes for the first time in weeks.
“What did you just call me?”
“Your name.” Hermione turned embarrassed, “You seemed dead, you weren’t really responsi–”
“–Fuck, Granger.” The tension choked Hermione, but his deep voice sent her right over the edge, completely muting her.
He turned around, not able to avoid her presence any longer, his classmate, his roomate... his friend.
“Can you play something for me?”
He stopped playing.
“My father commanded me to marry Astoria Greengrass next year in the spring.” He took a deep breath. “All that pureblood shit.”
“I sent him the letter today” He slid his lean fingers into the white piano keys with enough softness to avoid eliciting a single sound “So I’ll get the disowned letter in a few days from now.” The cover of the piano was brought down with a hard thud that startled Hermione, and yet the Slytherin common room remained unchanged. “I told him I could marry a mudblood for all I cared.”
“And would you?” The auburn-hair girl held her breath. It was possibly the most nerve-wrecking question she had ever asked, and she did ask many questions to not that amicable teachers. She could barely afford to face him, not even in the vulnerable state he was in. She basically implied if he would marry her.
“Yes,” he quickly responded, almost insulted, “God, Hermione, I would marry you.” And quickly added “–in the sense of example” For the first time his anxious seemed fun, and his blush was almost human.
“I mean obviously.” She laughed it out, sneaking a small peek into the fantasy of being married to Draco and watching it burn. It's not like she actively wanted to, he was obnoxious and though now he had changed he couldn’t completely erase the past which always seems to scar. But seeing him with those eyes in his black suit, she could only wonder if maybe the pain of heartbreak was worth it in the end.
“Why so obviously?” His father had completely slipped his mind, he was now really looking at her, at the locks of dark brown hair that fell down into her white turquoise camisole.
Hermione just stared, as he stepped closer.
“You shouldn't be here.” It was barely a whisper in comparison to the screams in her head. His cologne was beginning to cloud her senses, a soft smell of whisky inching closer to her. Though his eyes seemed flammable as they carved a way into hers, Hermione felt the need to stare at his lips.
“Don’t look at me that way.”
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like you want to kiss me.”
He sighed, brushing some of his hair off his face as a nervous tick, his eyes falling off her face and towards the door. Before he could run away, she grabbed his arm. “I do”
The air seemed unbreathable for a moment, thick, dense, unbelievable.This was it. This was the movie moment, the rom-com, the moment where they start playing the song “Kiss Me” and they delve into a romantic bliss filled kiss. But that’s not what either of them felt. It felt aggressive, violent. A bomb about to detonate, dynamite about to burn down the Slytherin common room.
With newly found confidence he took one step towards her.
“I’ve been waiting for that look since you punched me during Third Year.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to notice since the Yule Ball.”
“You looked straight out of a fairy book in that dance,” His broad shoulders turned towards her as he stepped closer, and kept on closing the distance between them, “but your smile, I had never seen such a bright smile, you blinded each and every one of us.”
“Do you know why I danced with you?” He kept on going, step to step closer to her.
“I danced with you because whenever I thought I knew the answer you proved me wrong. Because you fascinated the hell out of me. And Krum was an idiot.”
“He wasn’t that much of an idiot.”
“Granger, you bloody liar” It was barely a whisper, their noses were now touching, mere inches away from each other. If they were both nervous they refused to show it, neither backing down.
Her smile nearly collided with the appearance of his, their breath only getting more erratic.
Suddenly he closed the space between them in a violent kiss. His hands were on her waist and on her head holding her close, trapping her, while she instantly messed up his bleached hair, pulling and caressing.
His tongue invaded her mouth in utter amazement yearning to taste, take, and conquer whatever she was willing to give him. And she was willing responding with the same loving fierceness, yearning for the impossibility of infinity.
There was this need. It was brutal. His hands couldn’t stop wandering around between her waist up to her face. He grabbed her neck, instinct at his tongue lashing at hers. Immediately he tried to draw it back before noticing the soft moan it elicited from her throat. He swallowed her noises, fascinated.
Draco was unavoidable. His smell climbed up her nose into her bloodstream like a drug, his hands were everywhere and not where they were supposed to, his taste clawed his way to her brain where it clouded every thought, every fear.
She felt naked, exposed at the danger, breaking her down and giving her oxygen at the same time. Polished perfect Draco showed his impulsiveness over the hold of her waist, as well as his possessiveness. There were no two students there but a kind of stellar bonding that didn’t allow them to breathe in between corrupting kisses.
A step. Then another.
“Hermione.” He was out of breath.
“Yes, Malfoy”
“Fuck.”
…
It was strange, not their kiss which made Hermione blush whenever she recalled it, but Draco bloody Malfoy holding her hand as they walked back together to their room. She had never felt so glad that a. they both lived together and b. that Slytherin was so far away.
They’re hands were loosely intertwined, it was barely forced, like an instinct they were both suppressing for centuries. It was as if their hands were just meant to do that, meant to caress, to hold, to touch. Though her eyes kept closing, sleep catching up to her, she couldn’t stop sneaking glances at his profile, sometimes colliding with his stare doing the exact same thing.
As their hands separated to open the door, reality flooded in. Would this change everything? Were they officially a couple? How would their friends react? How will they live together now knowing they are meters apart from skin touching skin?
“Hey.” Hermione whispered, Draco had finally managed to twist the key and open the door.
“Mmmh?”
That’s when Hermione grabbed his neck pulling him down and pecking his lips, she softly bit his lip before pulling away with a smile on her face.
“Good night.”
After 5 minutes Draco was still in the same spot she left him in.