Chapter Text
HERMIONE
Hermione stepped up to the Hogwarts Express and exhaled as soon as her feet hit the platform. She already felt lighter just being back in magical London, where things were normal. Well, perhaps not normal… but they were comfortable. She was one step closer to school, which was one step closer to Harry and Ron, her family away from home.
Her parents hadn’t wanted her to return to Hogwarts for her sixth year, given the nightmare and danger their daughter had been put through the previous year, and it had been a point of contention for them nearly the entire summer. They had even begged her to transfer to Beauxbatons in France. Still, Hermione had cried, pleaded, and argued her case for weeks to convince them that Hogwarts was the safest place for her, especially during this period of uncertainty. The Grangers eventually agreed with Hermione and reluctantly allowed her to return to the castle for sixth year. She needed to stay close to Harry and Dumbledore: they would protect her. And they needed her. There was no way that the trio would manage to find and destroy all of the horcruxes without her help.
She moved through the train with a spring in her step, smiling at the familiar faces as she passed. The happy chatter of other students filled her ears, and she couldn’t help but feel lighter, more relaxed. Despite the tumultuous end of last term, everyone seemed hopeful and ready for a new beginning.
Godric knew she was ready to leave fifth year far behind.
She had almost reached the compartment where Ron and Harry were waiting for her when a small group of rowdy fourth-year boys rushed by her. One of them accidentally bumped into her shoulder, sending her bag flying from her arms and onto the train floor.
“Sorry!” the boy yelled over his shoulder. He made no attempt to turn and help, so Hermione simply rolled her eyes and knelt down to pick up the items that had spilled from her bag.
Deep, rumbling laughter from behind made her jump and drop the lip balm and quills she had just scooped up. Her cherry chapstick rolled away from her and knocked into a pair of black dragonhide boots worn by none other than Draco fucking Malfoy.
“Well, Granger, I see you’ve discovered your true talents: cleaning the floor like a good mudblood should,” he drawled.
“If you’re not going to help, just leave me alone. I don’t care to listen to your snide remarks before term has even started, Malfoy.” She said his name like a curse, hoping that he noticed how unamused she was.
“Snide? Me?!” He put his hand to his chest, feigning shock. “I was only stating the obvious. And why would I help you, anyway?”
Her head snapped up to meet his gaze, her amber eyes incredulous as they locked onto his icy blues. “Because it’s the right thing to do? Because any decent human would? Oh, that’s right, you’re not decent. How silly of me to have forgotten,” she quipped.
Draco took a step closer to her and lingered, hovering menacingly just above her. A chill ran up her spine but she steeled her composure and kept her eyes leveled on his, refusing to look away.
“I quite like seeing you kneeling before me. A man could get used to this,” he purred, flashing a quick smirk that made her stomach somersault over itself.
An unbidden blush crept up her neck and splotched onto her cheeks. The familiar Malfoy Smirk she had grown so accustomed to witnessing over the years was affecting her in a way she could never have explained. One would have thought that seeing The Smirk so frequently since they were first years would have made it lose its novelty, but she found that every time it was directed at her, she felt something uncomfortable and hot stir in her lower abdomen.
Her bottom lip popped in between her teeth as she rose to her feet, bag clutched to her chest like a lifeline. Hermione had to crane her neck to look at him. He seemed to have hit a growth spurt over the summer, standing almost a full head taller than her.
He was so close she could smell the mint on his breath and feel the puffs of air on her face as he exhaled. She watched his eyes rake over her body and pause at her bottom lip that was still pulled between her teeth.
He was so close, the proximity unnerved her.
She released her lip and shook her head slightly as if she could physically expel the thoughts from her mind. Something in his eyes shifted, and The Smirk faded into an inquisitive stare. With one eyebrow cocked, he studied her, watching her expressions with a focused eye. In that moment, she swore she could feel him slithering around in her mind, searching for things that she had long since removed from her brain and stowed safely away in layers of enchanted parchment.
“You don’t have to be so rude, Malfoy. Just get out of my way and leave me alone,” she huffed, standing her ground.
He had really grown over the summer, she thought as he stood before her—and not just in height. He looked older. Worn. Tired. His face was all sharp angles and hard lines, any trace of boyishness long gone. Sunlight filtered through the window, causing his pale blonde hair to glow white in the rays. If she hadn’t known him, she would have thought he looked almost angelic. But he was vile, a far cry from anything holy or divine.
The silence stretched on between them and she began to shift on her feet, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious that his gaze was hot on her body.
There was a strange pulling sensation at her forehead, almost like an elastic band was being stretched behind her eyes. And then, it snapped, ceasing almost as suddenly as it began. The feeling was gone and her mind was left empty. Confused. She blinked several times, unsure if she was going crazy or if she was suffering from a brain aneurysm. Hermione considered this at length—she would have to run a diagnostic charm later and perhaps check in with Madam Pomfrey just to be sure. Lost in her own thoughts, she had almost forgotten that Malfoy was looming over her until he spoke again.
“Fine, I’ll leave you alone… for now. See you around, Granger,” he said as he strolled by, shoulder-checking her as he passed.
For now. For now? Was she dreaming?
Frozen in place, she stood, unsure of her next move. Hermione Granger was anything but uncertain. What the fuck was that about? Was Draco Malfoy… flirting? With her? She snorted out loud at the thought and shook her head to herself.
Her steps were slow and controlled as she made her way to the compartment to meet Harry and Ron. Before she entered, she spared a glance down the aisle in Malfoy’s direction but he was already long gone. Hermione had a sinking feeling that she could not quite place.
***
Ron was alone in the compartment, already going through the bag of snacks he had purchased from the cart.
“Hey, Mione,” he beamed at her, eyes twinkling the brightest cerulean.
She rolled her eyes at him as she took her seat. “You’ve got chocolate in your teeth.”
“Gee, thanks. Nice to see you, too.” His voice cracked with sarcasm.
“Where’s Harry?”
As if on cue, the door to the compartment opened for a few seconds and then closed on its own. Harry Potter appeared right in front of them, his signature crooked grin and disheveled hair on full display.
Her heart warmed instantly at the sight of him, her comfort zone embodied in human form. He tossed the invisibility cloak onto his seat and plopped down beside Hermione as he stretched his legs. She eyed him curiously, waiting to see if he would explain why he had the cloak.
Harry removed his glasses and peered at the lenses through squinted eyes, shaking his head at the small crack forming in the frame. Oh, how she had missed him. She missed them both, really.
“You look like you were up to no good. Where have you been? Sneaking about already?” She waved a finger in his face and mustered her best chastising Molly Weasley impression.
Harry rolled his eyes with a laugh and bumped playfully into her shoulder. “I was following up on a lead. But he didn’t say anything useful. Yet.”
“You still going on about Malfoy?” Ron mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate candies. “He’s just a prat. You’re wasting your time, ya know.”
With his elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped in front of him, Harry shook his head. “I know he’s up to something. You saw him creeping around Borgin and Burkes. Why was he there?”
“He’s a creepy bloke. He does creepy things,” Ron shrugged, stuffing his hand deeper into the bag to grab more sweets.
Hermione chimed in, entirely uninterested in listening to Harry’s ‘Malfoy is evil’ tirade so early in the school year. “Honestly, Harry, not this again. What could Voldemort possibly want with a teenager? Malfoy is not what you think. There’s no way. It just doesn’t make any sense.”
His green eyes met hers with conviction. “I know that I’m right.”
“How?” Her eyebrows shot to her hairline as she waited for whatever unintelligible instinctual reason Harry Potter had to disprove her.
“I just do, Hermione. I don’t know… it makes sense to me. His father is a Death Eater.”
“And my father’s a dentist, but you don’t see me prodding around in people’s teeth now, do you?”
“That is not even close to the same thing and you know it,” he hissed.
She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re missing the point. Lucius is locked away in Azkaban. He’s not a threat any longer. And I just don’t see how a boy would be of any use to Voldemort. He’s got far more dark wizards at his disposal.”
“Hermione has a point, mate. Malfoy is definitely a jerk, and sure, he’s creepy. But… a Death Eater? I doubt it.”
She nodded and agreed with Ron for once. “We need to focus on the issue at hand, anyway. What do we know? We know that there are more horcruxes out there to find. And we know we need to destroy them.”
“Great, Hermione, now what about the things we don’t know?" Ron raised his hand and counted on his fingers. "We don’t know what the horcruxes are. We don’t know how to find them, and we certainly don’t know how to destroy them. Unless you’ve got a Basilisk hiding in that beaded bag of yours, I’d wager to say that we are very much at a disadvantage. We don’t know much of anything." Ron threw both hands up in defeat. "Dumbledore gave us this massive task with nearly no instruction. It’s bloody ridiculous.”
“We can’t get discouraged now; we’ve got to push on. Dumbledore will help us; we just have to trust him.” Harry was almost pleading with Ron and Hermione.
He was right. Dumbledore wouldn’t lead them astray and he wouldn’t present them with a task unless he thought they were capable. They had to trust him. That had to have faith in Harry. They would figure this out together.
They always did.
***
Hermione followed the boys off the platform as they made their way to the baggage pile. She paused, eyes scanning the crowd of students passing by. There was no platinum in sight. No tall, looming blonde with cold eyes and a sharp tongue. Relief washed over her. Why was she nervous?
I’ll leave you alone… for now.
The words replayed in her mind like a promise. A threat. Hermione Granger was no coward, but of fucking course the only person who could affect her in such a way was already niggling in her head, boring his way into her mind until she could no longer think straight. What was he playing at? He didn’t know anything, did he? He couldn’t possibly…
Her mind raced as she walked, running over the encounter with Malfoy on the train over and over again on a loop. Had he noticed the way her cheeks turned red at his words? Or the way her breath hitched when he got closer to her?
He certainly seemed captivated by her bottom lip, which was something she was absolutely not ready to unpack. Perhaps he suffered a brain injury over summer break. Maybe a bludger knocked his senses loose on the Quidditch pitch. The whole scenario gave Hermione an awful headache and overthinking was only making it worse. She pushed the bizarre thoughts from her mind as best as she could and sighed as she ambled towards the carriages.
It was going to be a long year.
***
DRACO
Draco rounded the corner, his shoulder slamming into a scrawny little second year he recognized from the Slytherin common room last year. The boy fell back onto his bottom and braced his fall with stiff arms. Draco noted the way the small boy’s eyes widened as he realized who stood over him, and couldn’t help it as his face split into a sinister grin. He leaned down, eyebrows raised, staring directly into the poor boy’s innocent soul.
“Boo,” he whispered.
The boy wasted no time at all and sprang to his feet, then turned and ran towards the Great Hall as fast as he could. Draco laughed to himself, amused at the fear rolling off the boy.
After wasting approximately two more minutes loitering in the corridor, he decided he should probably join the other prefects in the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony.
Dumbledore had made it clear that everyone was to be present for the new first-year housing placements, especially house prefects. He didn’t want to make waves just yet, so Draco decided to be a good little student and follow orders… for now.
As he made his way down the long, empty corridor, something caught his eye. A bustle of bouncing chestnut curls headed in the opposite direction, away from the line of students crowding into the Great Hall. Where was she going? It wasn’t like Granger to disobey rules, especially a specific order from Dumbledore. She was a prefect, too, and he knew that she was expected at the ceremony as well.
She was probably sneaking around to meet with Potter. Likely to hatch up another one of his idiotic plans that would surely get a resounding “50 points to Gryffindor” from the headmaster. Draco’s jaw ticked and he clenched his fists at his side.
Their morning encounter replayed quickly in his mind. Flashes of pink-tinged cheeks and big doe eyes staring up at him. A lip caught between teeth. Granger on her knees.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
His feet started moving before his brain could catch up. He was following Granger discreetly enough, solely for recon purposes, he told himself. He needed to see what Saint Potter was planning, and Granger would most definitely lead Draco right to him. He kept his distance and followed quietly when, suddenly, she stopped in place. He quickly veered off to the side of the corridor and ducked behind a large suit of armor that was standing at attention along the wall. Granger whipped her head left and right, surveying the hall for a moment before she turned back and headed directly to the library.
Of course, she was only going to the library. Draco rolled his eyes. What a colossal waste of time.
Granger paused when she reached the library’s entrance, her hand tentative on the handle. She was beaming—almost glowing—when she pushed open the French doors. The corner of Draco’s mouth twitched ever so slightly. At least someone was happy to be back at this pathetic excuse of a school. While he was glad that he would not have to sit through two more years of useless bullshit classes, something inside of him warmed at the thought of Granger’s excitement
He kept to the shadowy edges of the corridor and waited a beat before entering the library after her. His eyes scanned the stacks ahead of him but Granger was nowhere in sight. He slinked around the stacks, wandering around for several minutes with no luck. Just as he was about to give up and head back to the Great Hall, he caught a whiff of something sweet—so sweet it made his mouth fucking water. Vanilla, perhaps? There was a restless stirring deep in Draco’s chest, like something was awakening inside of him.
He’d always liked to hunt.
He followed the sugary scent down an aisle of particularly weathered tomes when he reached a small wrought iron staircase that spiraled up to the second level. That section of the library had apparently long been forgotten, as the stacks and stairs alike were covered in a film of fine dust particles.
Gods, he loved a good chase.
He climbed halfway up the stairs until her head of wild curls finally came into his view. Granger was holding a small leatherbound book, turning it over in her hands as she traced her fingers over the cover. Her lips were moving but no sound came out. Leave it to Granger to talk to her bloody books. Salazar, the little witch was such a head case.
The stirring grew stronger, clawing at his chest, ready to break free and pounce. She was all alone—a helpless little lion with no Potter nor Weasel in sight. A sinister smile spread across his face as the possibilities raced through his mind.
How many times had he played out this scenario in his head? Sneaking up on his prey in a dark corner of the library, finding her without her two lackeys at her side. He could practically smell her fear. It was intoxicating. Heady. He wanted to bottle the feeling and drink it.
A different, more surprising feeling stirred below his waist as his cock twitched in his trousers. That was… new. And entirely unexpected. But Granger had certainly grown over the summer. Could anyone blame him for thinking such things? Gone was the bushy-haired swot with big buck teeth and a flat chest. Now she was all fuck-me-eyes and pouty lips, and she smelled like a sugary treat made just for him. It was all very enticing.
Draco watched her raise to her tiptoes, the back of her shirt riding up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the dimples in her lower back. Fuck, he needed to get a grip, or whatever was trying to scratch its way out of his rib cage would devour the unsuspecting witch in front of him.
Granger stashed the small book onto a high shelf to the right of the window seat and cast a Notice Me Not charm over its cover. Clever little witch—disguising a book in plain sight.
What was she hiding? Something for Potter?
She spun on her heel and Draco quickly did the same as he quietly sneaked down the staircase and out of sight. When Granger rounded the corner of the stacks closest to the exit, he emerged from the shadows. It was like he couldn’t help himself. Her scent still lingered around him, obviously clouding his judgment, but he didn’t care. She was right there— it was too easy.
“Twice in one day, mudblood? How did I get to be so lucky?” his deep voice was like velvet caressing her skin.
Startled, she jumped and spun towards him, wand aimed directly at the center of his chest.
Draco instantly raised his hands in surrender.
Fuck, she was quick.
“Easy there. Is that any way to treat your classmate?” he drawled.
“You’re not my mate. What are you doing here, Malfoy?” She spat his name like a curse. He wondered what it would sound like if she moaned it. “Did you follow me?”
He took a step closer to her. So close that he could drown himself in her scent. Yes, it was definitely vanilla. Warm, sweet, inviting vanilla.
Almost automatically, he reached out and grabbed a stray curl that hung loosely around her face. She stood fixed to the floor, unable—or unwilling—to move. He liked to think it was the latter. Draco twisted the curl in his fingers, pulling the strand taught as he stepped impossibly closer to her. He decided that his new favorite activity was invading Granger’s space and watching her squirm under his gaze.
Maybe the school year wouldn’t be so bad after all, now that he found a new hobby. Her wand was pressed painfully into his skin now, the vinewood digging roughly into his sternum. He wanted to feel the sting of her magic, wanted her to hurt him. If only so he could strike back. He just needed a reason; he was begging for it.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he answered as he stared at the curl between his fingers. “Did you follow me here, Granger?”
One perfectly arched blonde eyebrow cocked as his eyes met hers. Silver on amber, melding together. He dropped the strands of hair and took another step into her, looming over her much like he had on the train that morning. They were nearly chest to chest now, with Granger's breath escaping her in little huffs.
She was afraid, he could feel it.
He narrowed his eyes on her. “I asked you a question. You do know what to do when asked a question, correct?”
She nodded once, a small affirmation but enough for him to press on. He took another step into her and this time she moved, backing away from him and into the stacks behind her.
Draco placed his hands on the shelves on either side of her head, pinning her in place. A little lion caught the snake’s den. She gasped and Draco couldn’t help but smile at the obvious effect he was having on her. She chewed on her lip with her eyes averted, looking at anything but the predator in front of her.
“I’ll ask you again. And this time, use your words, Granger. Did. You. Follow. Me?” His breath ghosted over her face with each word.
“No,” she said firmly, but the bravado quickly faded and Draco watched her face grow pale as she realized that they were all alone.
He considered her for a moment. Deep brown doe eyes staring up at him, wild curls surrounding her face, plump pink lip between her teeth. He could feel himself getting hard, the fabric of his trousers stretching around the ache. Then, ice-cold shame washed over him.
She was a filthy mudblood. How dare she make him think such thoughts?
Draco thought of pressing into her mind again, just a quick dip to see what that oversized hair was hiding. He wasn’t sure if he should take the risk twice in one day. When he used Legilimency on her on the train, it didn’t take long for her mind to sense his presence, and he was forced to pull back almost immediately.
“Pity,” he whispered.
He decided to skip the mind games and go straight to the source. He would come back later that night and steal her little book. Then he could find out what Potter was up to.
He pushed himself away from her, looked her up and down with a sneer, then walked out of the library without another word.