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DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in this story. These characters and Harry Potter are property of J K Rowling.
Many thanks to my awesome beta!
Hermione had been seeking refuge in the library for years. It had been her sanctuary since her first year at Hogwarts.
Something about the smell of parchment and old leather had never failed to put her mind at ease. More often times than not, her time there was spent alone, in solitude.
Not many of her classmates utilized the resource like they should have been. Not that she minded, on the contrary-- the quiet provided her a serene sense of bliss when she needed it the most.
That was, up until sixth year had started.
It was a Saturday night and Hermione was headed to her favorite spot in the back of the Library. She felt a cooling sense of calm creep in waves up her spine as she passed the rows of bookshelves that contained an endless amount of reading material. Term had just started, so it was even more abandoned than usual, a magnificent sight to behold.
Taking in a deep breath, and letting her shoulders relax, she rounded the corner, only to stop dead in her tracks.
The abrupt halt caused her bag to swing off her shoulder and slide down her arm. Catching it quickly before it hit the floor, she stood dumbfounded, staring directly ahead of her.
Someone was sitting in sitting in her spot.
A blond head of hair turned towards the new arrival, his steel grey eyes making contact with her’s. A look of recognition flashed across his features before contorting into his signature sneer. Reclining in the chair, an old tattered looking book lay in his lap, the leather worn and the pages brittle.
Beside his feet, lay a strewn pile of what had to be at least a dozen more books. Some old and almost falling apart, others looked so new they must still be stiff.
"You should take a picture Granger,” he said after a few beats. “I'm told it lasts longer."
Hermione wrinkled her nose in annoyance. "Excuse me, but that is my spot. I have sat in that spot for 6 years,” she replied indignantly.
After several seconds with no response, she continued. “What are you even doing here on a Saturday night? Aren't there first years you should be terrorizing or slags to be dragging into empty broom cupboards?” she said with utmost disgust.
"I'm not moving,” Draco retorted, rolling his eyes. “I was here first. And for the record, what I do in my leisure time is none of your concern, Mudblood. Now, if you would be so kind as to piss off, that would be great.”
Scoffing, Hermione turned on her heel and quickly retreated to a nearby table, not far from the irritating Slytherin.
That spot not only had the best lighting, there was also no draft-- unlike everywhere else in the cool, damp library. Not to mention that sitting there, you were rarely ever disturbed.
Feeling him watching her out of the corner of his vision, Hermione plopped her heavy bag down with a loud thunk; making sure to make as much noise as possible.
His eyes stayed trained on her as she laid out her belongings, carefully making certain everything was in its rightful place.
A tingle of irritation washed over Draco as he wondered what in the bloody hell she was doing in an empty library the first weekend school term started. It wasn't as if they had gotten much homework, and he would bet a pretty galleon that she managed to finish what little was assigned.
He watched as the petite witch pulled out her own copy of Hogwarts, A History from her bag and began reading, her eyes scanning from one line to another.
From the looks of the well-worn binding, it was clear that it had been read many times before. However, you would have never guessed that from the look etched onto her face. She seemed completely enthralled.
Soft, matted ringlets of honey brown curls fell over her downturned face, as a small indent appeared in her furrowed brow as she read.
Draco caught himself watching her too intently for his own comfort. Although, even he couldn't deny that over the years she had become quite pretty-- not that he'd ever tell her that.
Finding his eyes had drifted down to the sliver of her barely exposed thigh at the bottom of her school issued skirt, he shook his head and turned back to the task at hand, mentally kicking himself for letting himself get distracted for even half a second.
There was no time to waste. He had to find some way to carry out the task he was given. This was not something he could afford to fuck up. Not only his life, but the lives of his parents, depended on it as well.
The next morning, Hermione awoke bright and early. She made haste towards the great hall to grab a bit of toast before seeking her sanctuary, barely stopping to talk to anyone who greeted her.
Letting out a sigh of relief, she found her usual table, empty and waiting for her.
After an hour of uninterrupted work, Hermione noticed a tall blond round the corner just out of her field of vision. An audible groan escaped from the new arrival-- followed by a lengthy stream of curses-- as he turned on his heels and made his way to a different table nearby.
Triumph gleaming in her eyes as she looked up, some what surprised to see Draco glaring back angrily in her direction. Offering him a polite wave and smile, she could feel the sweet victory coursing throughout her veins.
Looking defiantly into his darkened stare, she came to the gut-churning realization of just how handsome Draco Malfoy actually was. She allowed herself to look over his aristocratic features for just a moment before shaking her head back to the reality of her arithmancy homework.
Once a prat, always a prat.
Draco was not amused by the irksome encounter with the little mudblood. She merely sat there smiling at him with those supple pink lips-- all doe eyed and innocent-- almost as if she were oblivious to the challenge she had just instigated.
Little did she know, he knew just how to wipe that silly little triumphant smirk right off her face.
The next week brought more N.E.W.T. work and greater distractions for Hermione. Pouring herself into her studies, she decided to kick it into gear and get all her homework and study charts in order over the weekend.
She set out for the library, her mind focused on her tasks at hand. It only took her a moment to notice the pale blond taking up space in her corner of the Library.
Classic smirk in place, Draco sat at the coveted study spot, observing Hermione take in the disaster that surrounded him.
He had noticed how she was so anal about her belongings being in a neat and organized fashion, that he figured he had a pretty good idea just what would push her buttons.
The entire area surrounding him was an utter travesty, and his lip twitched just the slightest amount watching the young witch's eyes dart from one pile of scattered books to the next.
Mouth opened, Hermione struggled to form words. But no matter how hard she tried, nothing came out. It was as if she had been so furious that her brain had almost shut off completely.
Almost.
"What in the bloody hell is this, Malfoy?!" She finally managed after a few seconds of struggling.
Her brown eyes never made contact with his, as she pulled her wand from the back of her robes and started sending various books back to their proper place.
"Some of these books are irreplaceable!” she said exasperated, reaching to the floor to snatch up another small pile. “Do you have no respect for the written word, Ferret?" She snapped, finally meeting his calm gaze with the fury of a thousand suns.
Draco couldn't help but smile. Truth be told-- if she were someone else, anyone else-- he might have thought her frazzled state was rather cute, even endearing. But this was their little game of cat and mouse, predator and prey, and he loved sticking it to the little library hogging know-it-all.
After cleaning up the mess, Hermione sat down flustered. Taking a few calming breaths, she noticed she could still feel his eyes on her. The feeling lingered for a bit as she started in on her planned charts.
Huffing, she ignored the urge to glance back at her antagonist, even if only to shoot a hate filled sneer in his direction.
No, no.
She would would have to get him back fair and square.
Throughout most of their sixth year, the heated game of tug of war over the library continued.
Although he would never admit it to anyone, it dawned on Draco that he almost looked forward to their weekend war zone.
Soon, their rivalry spread, carrying into their classes as well.
It wasn't an uncommon occurrence to catch the pair exchanging secret challenging glances towards one another. Even hushed whispers-- usually containing snide remarks about who would come out on top this week-- were often shared between them.
One day during potions, a note found its way onto Hermione's desk. Glancing around, she saw no one nearby that could have placed it there.
Upon opening it, the neatly folded parchment had only two words written in loopy penmanship: Scared, Granger?
Placing the unfolded note flat on her desk, she stole a quick glance at Draco. He sat three rows back from her, and was sitting comfortably back in his chair; his grey eyes were fixed on the list of ingredients that lay in front of him.
Hastily she swiveled back in her seat, scribbling directly underneath his neat handwriting on the parchment: You wish.
Folding the note back into the former creases, she looked over her own list of ingredients for the lesson before pushing herself to a stand.
By the time she passed Draco’s desk, he had gone to gather his own supplies. A small, sly smirk grew on Hermione's face as she dropped the small piece of paper onto his empty table.
Autumn slowly turned to winter, and Christmas was steadily approaching.
The castle was quickly filling with Christmas decorations, and by the first Saturday in December, Draco awoke early and made haste towards the Library. His latest plan would be hard work, but extremely worth it in the end.
Having overslept this particular morning, Hermione rushed as fast as she could down the corridor. Cursing herself for being late, she somehow knew exactly what she would find upon her arrival.
Or better yet, who.
Although her heart was beating at an unsteady pace in anticipation, she couldn't help feeling an excited twinge in her gut. She didn't know when exactly she started to enjoy playing predator and prey with the Slytherin, but amongst all the weight of an actual war-- she found solace in the little private game they shared.
Walking into a seemingly normal library, she was not at all surprised to see that Malfoy had beaten her to the punch. Narrowing her eyes suspiciously in his direction, she made her way to the nearby table she had occupied on mornings she wasn't quick enough.
Sighing, she dropped her bag on top of the smooth surface only to hear it fall through the table and onto floor win a loud thud. A startled gasp escaped her lips, as she looked back towards the blond who was still staring intently at the book in his lap.
Rolling her eyes, she bent down and picked up her fallen bag, slinging it onto another table some feet away.
Thunk.
The bag landed on the floor yet again.
She tried table after table, all with the same results. After the third or fourth time, her initial irritation had subsided and instead, amusement set in.
Clever little prat.
Hermione gathered her bag one last time, walking over to the nearly empty desk Draco was using. Sitting herself down in the chair directly next to his, she pulled out Hogwarts, a History and began reading the bookmarked page.
Draco-- who's attention was no longer on the words in front of him-- sat up straight; his mouth slightly opened, looking dumbfounded.
"Didn't your mother raise you with better manners than to stare, Malfoy?" She asked nonchalantly, not even bothering to take her eyes off the page.
Not wanting to be at a loss for words, he said the first thing that came to mind. "Don't you read anything else? That book is a piece of junk.”
Rolling her eyes, she flipped to the next page. "It isn't junk, it's happens to be my favorite book,” she replied nonchalantly.
Draco went back to his homework, and the two sat in silence. He refused to let her get the better of him as he pretended to not even notice their close proximity.
However, he did notice. He could barely focus on the words in front of him, as the slight feminine smell of her drifted closer to him.
She smelled like lilac, and fresh rain. She smelled of summer and warmth, and not at all like the dirt and mud he was told her kind was. In reality, she was a walking contradiction to everything he was taught that muggleborns were.
After a few hours sitting in silence, Hermione was the first to speak.
"That was quite clever, you know," she said, arching an eyebrow towards him. But his penetrating grey eyes simply stared back at her quizzingly. "What you did to the tables,” she clarified. “I'm impressed," she said with a small smirk before returning to her book.
Sunday morning, Hermione did not race to the Library as usual. She strolled in leisurely and headed straight for the same desk Malfoy was already occupying, pulling out the chair from next to him.
He raised an amused eyebrow at her as she took her seat.
"What?” she asked. “No reason we both can't enjoy the table.”
Draco glanced back down to the homework laid in front of him, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“Gingerbread man?” she said, sliding a small tray of biscuits in his direction across the table.
Draco eyed the brunette witch suspiciously. "They aren't poisoned you know,” she said reassuringly.
“Should I have a reason to suspect they are poisoned, Granger?” he challenged, taking a biscuit.
A soft giggle escaped her lips. “No,” she said. “Just a kind gesture between friends.”
Friends? What had the world come to?
Hermione glanced down at her bag, fidgeting with the zipper. "That’s what all this cat and mouse chase has been, hasn't it?” She whispered with uncertainty. “A game between friends?”
Draco's heart twinged a bit, unsure as to why. "Yes,” he managed to croak out. “Yes, I guess you’re right," he replied weakly, swallowing down the lump that had appeared in his throat.
Another smile-- one a little more devious than the first-- spread across Hermione's features as Draco felt something cold land on the back of his neck. Looking down, he noticed a light snowfall drift onto his shoulders, covering his books.
A giggle fit took over Hermione as she watched his face of recognition. "That's for the tables!" she said between breaths.
But this time, instead of shooting the young witch an irritated sneer and jab, he did something even he didn't foresee.
He laughed with her.
Later that night, Draco stood atop the astronomy tower watching the snow fall. His mind swirled much like the soft, white powder that soared through the air, covering the ground.
There was a faint smell of evergreens in the air, and for some reason he couldn't fathom, he couldn't get Hermione off his mind.
The stupid, almost childlike, pranks they played on one another had been fun.
Fun, he thought with a scoff.
Fun was something Draco hadn't had in a long time, but something he had come to realize he truly needed.
It was so nice to be a normal teenager for once. The petty distraction was something he had been craving. It was a welcome break from thinking endlessly about the task before him, his future, and whatever that may hold.
Yes, a welcome distraction found in the mostly unlikely of places. With Hermione Granger, the most unlikely of people.
The following Saturday, Draco walked into the Library in his normal fashion. Hermione was already sitting at their spot in the back, her brow wrinkled in concentration. Upon hearing his footsteps, her brown eyes snapped to his, her face softening as she gave him a welcomed smile.
Reaching into his bag, he pulled out Hogwarts, A History, and stopped a few feet short of their usual table.
"Hey,” she said after a few beats of silence. “I've been looking everywhere for that!"
Examining the book, he looked at the cover. “This?” he questioned before placing the worn book he knicked from her a couple days prior onto the floor in front of his feet. "Come get it then," he challenged with a smirk.
Just as she rose to her feet, eyes fixed on the book, Draco conjured mistletoe that hung in the air above him.
Hermione looked from the mistletoe to the book, and back to Draco, his signature smirk in place.
Locking eyes with his, she closed the space between them. “You know, Draco,” she said seductively, reaching her hands up tentatively and resting them on each side of his face. "Next time you want to kiss me,” she drawled, “You don't have to steal my book first, just do it.”
And with one smooth motion, she brought his face down to her’s, kissing him softly.