Chapter Text
Since Hermione and Draco had been appointed as Heads, living together had been a struggle.
“Oh great. Finally getting out of the shower you’ve been in. For over an hour!”
“Granger, you might not know this, but you can also wash your hair and make it soft” Draco replied, slicking his hands through his wet hair, with a teasing smile on his lips.
However, it wasn’t just the shower they fought about…
“Where is my rubber band?” Hermione cried.
“Why would I know?” He shrugged, rubbing her cold gaze off. He had just left Quidditch practice, green and silver sweatpants hanging off his hip.
“Pansy was here last night…” There were a couple of rumors of them dating, but no one had ever seen Draco in intimate closeness with a member of the opposite sex. Pansy laying down in his bed complaining loudly was the nearest thing to a romantic relationship Draco seemed to have. Hermione couldn’t hide her distaste for Pansy whenever she came knocking.
“Maybe your second-hand buddy Ronald took it instead.”
“Maybe tomorrow you’ll wake up with no eyebrows and a missing organ…”
“You don’t need that dumb excuse to watch me when I sleep, I do love a feisty woman”
And yet, being the best in their entire promotion, they found common grounds. While Slytherins and Ravenclaws betted on how long they would last, the highest bet being a week, there they were, two whole months later. They studied, wished each other goodnight, and dealt with their respective responsibilities while juggling social life…surprisingly together.
Their common room was cozy, with black leather couches and warm colored rugs pointing to the fireplace, a small round glass table in between its flames, and the two couches. They had a small kitchen too, with a kettle and little else apart from countless different brews of tea. Hermione mostly had Earl Grey with milk and 1 sugar, contrary to Draco who had dark coffee, refusing to add milk in public but making himself a latte when alone.
It had become a study room for their companions, Slytherins and Gryffindors both took advantage of this privilege.
Harry would sit cross legged on the scratchy rug pulling his hair in despair “I abhor Flitwick.”
“I’m surprised you know the meaning of abhor.” Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Ask him to spell it.” Added Malfoy sprawled on the couch with a book and an unreadable expression.
“Can someone explain the Herbology Topic 9: The rise of slugs?” Ron was leaning on the couch, his sweaty hands dripping on the parchment.
“Malfoy knows it better than me, it's his family history.” She glanced at the platinum blonde at her side, his feet on the glass table.
“It is a topic I dominate, thank you, Granger.”
They didn’t fight as much anymore, maybe some old rivalry and healthy competition with a couple curse words. Somehow they started getting to know each other, nerve-wrecking for their peers which looked at them with disbelief, and yet it was so easy, so normal to be at some weird truce, a deal no one knew about.
They weren’t even close to friends, didn’t talk about the “important” things, or as Draco called them “sleepover bullshit”.
And if anything, their rivalry leftovers powered them academically:
“White Nights is based on him dreaming.”
“Malfoy, he literally got a letter.” Hermione was on the verge of pulling out her wand, red in frustration.
“Maybe he wrote it himself.”
“Maybe you can’t admit it when you are wrong” She sighed in exasperation.
“I can admit Nastenka was a bitch.” A chorus of whispers followed Draco who met them with a smile.
“That’s enough, Mister Malfoy, 5 points away from Slytherin.” exclaimed Professor Binns, “Let’s get this discussion back to Magical History in literature.”
That same Wednesday they had to plan the Quidditch training schedules and compare them with that of the exams, so they spent sleepless nights trying to satisfy the back and forth they were having with the teachers. Hootch wouldn’t budge and neither would certain teachers like McGonagall, or Snape unless his house was involved.
Even in the 10-minute space between History of Magic and the Herbology exam, Malfoy was looking for his curly-headed bunkmate.
“Do you mind, Weasley?” He sighed, ruffling his perfectly styled hair. “I need to borrow Granger.” Surrounded by Lavender, Ginny, and Ron asking for guidance through the questions, she sat like a queen. Her hair was brushed and held together by a Gryffindor headband, she had also put blush on. Everyday the thrill of him checking her out was exhilarating. The thrill that maybe today everything would change.
Ron was leaning over her, his frame shadowing her perfectly rounded notes. His hand rested just above her knee.
“She’s busy, bloody hell”
“Your hand sure seems busy.”
“I would love to witness this show of male dominance but we do need to finish some scheduling, I’ll see you guys later.” Her hands searched for the books she had spread over the dining room table, closing them and piling them up. There was something she really liked about Draco picking her up, she enjoyed it so much she had begun “forgetting” about meeting or faking tasks so he would look for her. For a minute she could even pretend he really cared about
“Is it true you’re fucking Astoria Greengrass?” Ginny couldn’t help herself, she wasn’t as subtle as the others but just as curious. Draco had certain popularity in the school, he had gotten a nice glow up since first year, famous as a playboy due to his low girlfriend count and the many whispers of girls claiming they tasted his “forbidden fruit”.
“If he was, Hermione would have given Dumbledore a formal written complaint for disturbance after hours” Harry chuckled. A blush crept into Hermione's cheeks and stayed there, she felt squeamish imagining Draco with Astoria. Not just the obvious jealousy, but because imagining Draco sexually brought her back to her desires, switching up the story so she would fill Astoria’s shoes.
“Maybe he’s a bad lay. No sounds needed.” Answered Ginny.
Hermione lifted her head from the book pile and turned to Draco waiting for a smartass remark, some comment to reinstate his masculinity. And yet Malfoy did what he did when you thought he was predictable, he surprised you.
“Maybe I am.” He looked at his newly gifted sun watch and without looking back at Hermione, plucked her mountain of textbooks and headed towards the library study rooms. No encouragement was needed; she followed him out, blush included.
His back was wide from Qidditch. He was in no way as good as Gryffindor’s promised seeker, but had gained popularity as a Chaser and ascended his way into Captain of the Slytherin team. Hermione loved staring at him, imagining his ripped torso, his deep voice and the redness in the tip of his ears when he blushed. Last year she signed up for a drawing class but eventually dropped out only because she wanted to capture him, the essence of Draco Malfoy. She was unsuccessful but did learn how to draw flowers and make them come to life.
As they climbed the infinite stairs, which seemed to get longer and farther every moment. They were stopped by a voice coming from above. “Draco! Got a letter for you.” Crabbe and Blaise were carrying a bag topped with yellow cards, colorful seals trailing their step.
Collecting mail was their punishment for leaving a stink bomb in the Quidditch locker rooms, which ended up detonating by accident. As Draco picked up the letter and thanked them his expression changed to something dark, before shoving it into his pocket and continuing his ascend.
This wasn’t ignored by Hermione who carried her frown up to the study room and didn’t hear when Draco asked if she had forgotten her mind with Potter and the Weasleys.
“Granger keep up, you’re moving slower than a garden snail.”
“Malfoy, you are as annoying as Filch roaming the hallways before curfew.”
“Im prettier.”
“Questionable.”
“C’mon Granger, I know what you dream about. It can’t be easy living with the most eligible bachelor at Hogwarts.”
“Last I checked I wasn’t living with Cedric Diggory.” Hermione replied, “And by the way, you’re only in my nightmares.” The girl knew she was lying, but she also knew that being kind to Draco would probably cause the end of the world.
“So you do dream of me?” He wiggled his eyebrows, stopping and turning towards her in the middle of the staircase.
“Someone is desperate for attention.” She skipped past him, reaching the top floor. “Come on, ferret, we have work to do.”
It wasn’t until much later, after the Herbology test and back in her dorm that she dared ask who wrote the strange letter. It was handed to him, not even a messenger owl.
“No one I know.” It was as if he just remembered the letter and pulled it out of his robes. He shook his shoulders as he dropped the letter onto the fire. The flames danced in excitement at the touch.
“Malfoy…” Shaking her head in disbelief she glued her eyes to the fire, swallowing mercilessly the piece of parchment.
“Leave it.” His warning resonated in her mind much more than normal. It stayed with her, through his smiles at the end of the exams dinner, even in the bonfire outside.
Did the teacher’s know about illegal parties in the Forbidden Forest? no. But Dumbledore certainly did. If you saw a silhouette switching your drink for water, it was possible you had just crossed a Polyjuice-Dumbledore disguised as a student.
Hermione wasn’t having a good time, she was pensive, stuck in her mind, not paying any mind as fireball whisky fell inches away from her face. She did this a lot, drift away into her corner, think about what she had to do, have discussions with herself that she couldn’t have with other people, and of course, her secrets, the things she was too scared to say out loud.
Hermione had a big secret, which was related to her hatred for Pansy, and her aversion to Ron’s bored advances. That secret was also related to why in a daze, her eyes stayed fixed in blonde bleached hair and a loosened blouse.
She very often thought about Malfoy. It was a sad kind of thought, due to their impossibility of ever getting together, of Malfoy actually liking her back. No other boys except Ron and Krum had ever spared another look at her, she didn’t mind. But sometimes she just wished she was the level of fun that Ginny was running around Hogwarts and getting to know everybody, or how uninhibited Luna was. Hidden constantly in the library and rushing from class to class wasn't getting her any dates. Neither was searching for the Malfoy heir every time she stepped into a room.
“You good?” Padma had sat close to her a couple minutes ago, the lioness had not registered or hadn’t cared enough to show any type of acknowledgement.
“Spaced out,” she laughed weakly. “aren’t you the life of the party?, what are you doing here and not in the middle of a boy harem?”
Padma never laughed, she cackled with a very high pitch. “I’ll toast to that.” She pulled her Whining Wine closer and with a clink bumped into Hermione’s vodka lemon.
“Do you remember what I told you at the Yule Ball?”
“Umm, that guys aren’t shit?”
“No…the other thing…”
“Oh! Yeah. What about it?” Padma’s face lit up.
“I just can’t get him out of my head!”
“No. Why?”
Hermione took a bigger sip.
“I feel so freaking stupid.” She looked at the sky for a sign, an answer that might clear the gray cloud hanging above her head. as she yelled.“For Godric’s sake, we are living together!”
“So..you’re jealous?”
“Jealous doesn’t even begin to describe it. I nearly caused a fire because Romilda Vane asked him for a pencil and she bit it”
“Bit what?” Her friend raised her eyebrows.
“His pencil!” Hermione was smart, she was intelligent, confident, and everyone knew that. What most didn’t know is that Hermione would gain obsessions with things she liked. Such as Malfoy and would become, as Padma usually phrased, “absolutely nuts.” Padma would claim her rivalry approach and flirty insults were not getting her any closer into his mind, into his heart.
“Hermione shut the fuck up. So the anonymous chocolates that you gifted yourself didn’t work, neither did the “I hate you” game, or taking longer to fill out the reports so you spend more time together.”
“I’m not going to let you feel like a goddamn victim of Eros, deal with it. You’ll get his D eventually.” The last comment made the brunette spit out her drink and look at Padma in disapproval. “Okay no Malfoy D, just his Manor and eternal love.” Her smile disguised a chuckle.
“Playing the long game.” Hermione reminded herself.
Padma handed her the now empty cup “Exactly, Now I want a slice of lemon, make it fancy.”
Hermione chuckled as she made her way to the picnic table with all the colorful bottles spread out, some lying down others barely standing upright.
“Oh my god, it's MY song.” A hand grabbed Hermone’s arm making her drop both cups into the grass. Ginny was on the other side screaming into the night, turning a couple of heads at her step.
As she twirled Hermione around and shook both her hands with force at the beat, Hermione tried to keep up with her sporadic dancing steps, shaking her puffy hair.
“Where were you?” Ginny managed to wheeze out in an instrumental break.
“Nice steps.” Draco then made his appearance, he had a gift for making the kind of dramatic entrances from movies, it probably came with living in a Manor.
“Fancy seeing you in the middle of the dance floor.”
“Seems our friends dragged us into this void of hell.” At this point, Hermione had turned away from Ginny completely facing Draco.
“Know any fancy pureblood curses to get us out of here.”
Draco lifted his eyebrows and made Hermione repeat what she said. The crowd was getting louder, all around them, voices distorted and swirling around the two of them. Ginny was long gone, off with Angelina.
Draco leaned into her ear, she could see the sweat droplets on his exposed chest and the colored cheeks. It was startling to see him so uncomposed, the most Malfoy thing he wore was his smirk. “I’m afraid we must endure this torture together.” He whispered as he offered his hand to her.
And they danced. No one was looking at them, no one cared, and no one was sober enough to watch. They were supposed to be sworn enemies, and so they kept the farce in public. But there was something that couldn’t allow them to hate each other, maybe it was the intellectual connection, maybe it was the way they remembered the small details and hated small talk, or maybe just maybe it was the way their eyes never left each other.
She stepped on his shoes, as he cursed. They danced a mix of 60s music and a mix of hormonal teens who do not know how their bodies work. They laughed. But in case it seems too magical to be true, they danced. The last time they danced they were only 14 and Krum had left for a minute to talk to one of his friends.
This time his hand was firmer, much harder as it held onto her waist. His shoulders didn’t drop, squared as he twirled her around, his gaze never forgetting to meet hers after each turn. If at some point she thought she was over her crush on Malfoy, now she could agree that she was dead wrong. His silver rings twinkled in the moonlight, laying in his chest as he laughed. If she could draw, she would have drawn him right there and then, if she was a poet she would have sung an ode to mother nature for bringing this creature into the world. But because she was a girl, she laughed alongside him.
When she went to bed she was tipsy and didn’t even remember how she left the bonfire. The mattress swallowed her up in its embrace as she drifted off. That morning she questioned whether she did really feel Malfoy’s hand on hers, if she did twirl at his command, and him at hers. She wondered if she did show him the forbidden dance moves she had built up after doing playback in her room, headphones on, obviously.
She was almost wary as she went into the tiny kitchen for her Earl Grey.
Of course, there he was, shaking his aligned hair and groaning in pain.
“Could you keep your hangover to a minimum?”
“Ahhh! Those last tequila shots were not worth this.”
At the sight of messy Draco Malfoy with a dumbfounded expression, Hermione broke into laughter. He reminded her of a younger version of him, like when he was 12 and constantly sucked up to Snape, or when he was 14 and wore a constant expression of jealousy around Harry.
“Karma is going to get back at you.” A smile crept onto his pained expression, not quite staying there.
“It 's funny.”
“Granger, stick to your fancy tea and quiet down.” He handed her the tea bag, turning away from her. But for the second his eyes had stayed on her until she saw it, last night. She felt his hand on her wrist, his drunken smile, she smelled his expensive cologne completely numbing her, drugging her. Those bottle-green eyes dug into her soul, into the memories that threatened to be forgotten.
After finishing her fancy tea in silence, she went back into her room. It was filled with pictures and special edition bookmarks hung on the walls. She went straight for her bedside table, and with the palm of her hand, she palpated the wood underneath the desk, feeling the cold of a key and grabbing it desperately. She was in a hurry, she was inspired. Struggling to put the key in the hole she sighed in frustration before twisting it awkwardly and opening the so-desired drawer. Throwing a muggle magazine on the floor and a couple of homework pages, she found her diary.