NOVEL NEXT Chapter 28: Chapter 28
She smirked back at him then, too lost in the surreal situation to resist. Hermione couldn't remember exactly how the almost juvenile water-fight had started, but she imagined it would be a bizarre spectacle walk in on. Draco furrowed his brow as he absorbed Granger's amused grin, and while the new bow to her lips suited her well, it was rather unnerving. It was like she had stumbled across one of his secrets and was just waiting for the right time to throw it in his face. He schooled his features back into his comfortable frown, deciding he had allowed this to go on for far too long.
"Stop being such a-
"You're bleeding," she interrupted, and his scowl hardened when she slid a little closer to him. "Right there, by your ear-
"And?" he prompted, watching her every move as she continued to shuffle closer. "What the hell are you-
"Just let me have a look," she muttered, taking a final undignified tumble to kneel at his side. Her breath was warm against his ear and he tried to flinch away. "Hold still," she demanded firmly, reaching into her robe pocket to withdraw her wand. "Let me just heal this. I don't want you bleeding all over my dorm."
He stiffened but remained still as he felt prickling magic soothe the small cut; or maybe it was her breath again, he had no idea. Either way, the sensation was pleasant, and it had felt like forever since he'd had the comforting lick of magic against his skin. But then it had been so much longer since he'd felt something like her fingers against his neck; delicate and completely innocent. His lids lowered a little and he inhaled again to steal some more of the drugging aroma. All it would take was one of her shower sounds, and his senses would cease to cope.
"There," Hermione sighed, pulling away from him to inspect her work. "That's better. Does it feel okay?"
His Slytherin instincts flooded his mind like a defence mechanism, warning him she was far too close. She was doing it again; screwing with his head with gestures of kindness, and he refused to believe she didn't have an ulterior motive. Nobody could be that pure in the current climate; and it's not paranoia when you're on the enemy's territory.
"Get away from me," he snarled, pushing her away. "I told you not to touch me-
"But I was just-
"I said don't sodding touch me!" he yelled, rising to his feet so quickly it made his head spin.
He fired his glare back in her direction, ready to spit the things he had planned to say before, but his voice hitched. Her robe had ridden up high on her thighs from his shove, and it had also drooped to reveal one creamy shoulder with a spatter of freckles that looked deliciously like grated chocolate. Her sodden curls were slicked against her throat and the edges of her face like stretched toffee, and every inch of her exposed skin was tinted with a rosy musk. She was completely different in the afterglow of her shower; more animated and yet still ridiculously innocent in her oversized robe. It was...appealing.
"Fuck this," he grumbled to himself, turning on his heel and stalking out of the bathroom to leave behind a very confused witch.
Hermione blinked as the remains of his shadow abandoned her on the cold floor, leaving her brain to stew over what exactly happened. Malfoy's behaviour had become less and less aggressive with each day that passed, proof that a mother's advice was sometimes worthwhile. Acting civil had clearly been the right way to go Now, he was simply snappy and bitter, but she couldn't decide if he was simply losing the will to fight or adjusting to his predicament. Adjusting to her.
She hoped it was the latter.
.
.
Hermione found herself stifling a giggle as an image of the ever-graceful Malfoy slipping to the floor stole her mind. As much as she respected Professor Flitwick, she had mastered the Engorgio charm a few months ago, so her concentration had naturally started to sway. The morning had made her realise that her blond houseguest was nowhere near as threatening as he had initially been, and she couldn't help but find the transformation a little intriguing.
He was still a git of epic proportions, yet his temper had simmered. It was barely noticeable but it was there; etched into his pale features and softening his posture. The rage and fire that was always so present when he screamed at her had faded, and she had a feeling that he simply picked fights with her now out of principle and routine. Then again, that might just be her inner optimist, but she couldn't help but think his earlier smirk was a good sign.
"You look a bit more relaxed today," Neville commented, making her jump. "Good news?"
"No," she shook her head, feeling a little guilty. "I just had a good night's sleep, but Harry should be sending me an owl soon. I'll let you know when he does."
"Thanks," he smiled, attempting again to enlarge the figurine he'd been given.
She watched him with a distant fondness as the minutes ticked away. It was the last lesson of the day, and the mention of Harry and Ron had roused her determination to stick her nose in a book to help their task. When Flitwick dismissed the class, she offered Neville a quick nod before she darted for the door, ready to start her reading. But a familiar face in the corridor paused her footfalls, and she felt dread seize her chest as she took in the headmistress' dire expression.
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