A Kiss in the Dark
20 December 1996
Slughorn’s Christmas party glittered with candlelight, laughter, and the tinkling of enchanted glass. Hermione Granger had barely managed to escape Cormac McLaggen’s clutches for the second time that night when she stumbled into a quieter dim alcove, pressing her back against the cool marble pillar.
She wasn’t alone.
Draco Malfoy stood before her sharply wearing a black on black mock turtleneck shirt and suit. His normally pale complexion flushed, silver eyes dark with something dangerous, something unhinged. Unbeknownst to Hermione, the weight of the Unbreakable Vow, the looming presence of the Dark Lord, the unbearable pressure to kill or be killed—it has been unraveling him ever since school started. His hands trembled as he clutched at his lapel, as though he could physically hold himself together.
“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Hermione hissed, finding her wand hidden in the folds of her pink pleated dress, she was pretty sure Malfoy was not on the guest list.
His jaw clenched. “You think I wanted to come to this ridiculous gathering? Parade around like I have nothing better to do?” He took a breath and stepped closer. “You wouldn’t understand.”
She scoffed with default insubordination. “Try me.”
Draco exhaled sharply through his nose, something frantic in his posture. She felt his heat and regretted egging him on. He leaned in, so close she could smell the faint trace of cloves and Firewhisky.
Then he kissed her.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. He grabbed her bare shoulders with his clammy hands and pressed her to him, her neck leaning up into it without a thought when she could have pulled away. It was desperate, furious, and fleeting. The kind of kiss that could ruin lives.
A sharp intake of breath from somewhere behind them sent a chill down Hermione’s spine. She whipped around, Malfoy’s hands falling from her, heart hammering.
No one was there. But a flicker in the air—a distortion, a shift—she knew that magic too well.
The Invisibility Cloak.
Harry.
Draco didn’t seem to notice but his expression twisted into something ugly as he stepped back from her, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the moment.
“I—” Hermione started, looking back to him. Her mind scrambled for an explanation. For an excuse. For anything. She was both ashamed and exhilarated, vaguely thankful for Harry’s hidden presence.
But Draco spoke first, voice eerily calm, words calculated. “You were the first.”
She blinked, her voice soft. “The first what?”
“The first Muggle-born I ever met properly. The first… they warned me about your kind.” His voice dropped to something rough, almost regretful. “They said you’d be dangerous. That you’d destroy everything.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. He reached his hand out slowly. His fingertips grazed her collarbone above her necklace, and his eyes dropped. “And they were right, but not for the reasons they thought.”
Hermione didn’t dare move.
Draco exhaled through his teeth and met her gaze, something like resignation settling into his face. “Next time, Granger—don’t let me.”
Then he was gone, vanishing into the crowd of the party before she could make sense of the storm he’d left behind.
And behind her, the empty space where Harry had been wasn’t so empty anymore and the friends shared a shocked look.