Fresh Parchment
Hermione:
She took him up on the offer, after dressing in plain jeans and a red sweater she opened her door to search for the library. A potions book she’d read back to front countless times could only occupy her for so long. She found the library surprisingly easy, the countless shelves of books she could all but dream of having at her disposal were splayed out in front of her. She stopped reading for fun at the order, after she left she swore she’d never pick up a book again. Now it was oddly comforting, the musty smell of an old book, the difference though was she felt no pressure to read, to learn, to help. ‘Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charms’ caught her eye, she plucked it off the shelf and settled into a couch below a window. She looked out to the garden, the sun was out but its beams did little to warm her bones. She sighed, a little cold couldn’t hurt. Nothing could be worse than last winter. She had found herself back in Hampshed, in her childhood home. She was so weak, so cold, warming charms did little to nothing and she couldn’t risk lighting a fire. A little chill wasn’t going to bother her. Still she wrapped her sweater tighter around her thin frame, opening the dusty book.
A cold wrapped around her mouth, another wrapping around her waist, dragging her off the couch. She shook, clawing at the hands to release her, screams bubbled in her throat before she heard laughter. The breath she’d sucked in caught in her throat. The smell of crisp, new parchment invaded her nostrils. This couldn’t be good. She tried to turn to see who was dragging her through the Malfoy library, but their arms had her firmly holding her against them half carrying her through the towers of books. The figure spun her around, one hand never leaving her mouth. and she caught the glimpse of grey, stormy eyes. He released her waist, using his body to push her further into the corner. She froze, what was going on? A pale finger covered her lips before resting on the wall behind her.
“My lord, I am sure whatever you need will be in here,”
Malfoy shook his head, pushing them further into the corner. Her hands pressed against his chest, she could feel the sectumsempra scars under her palms that Harry had left but underneath was strong, solid, she could feel his heart beating. It felt as though it was trying to escape. His heart matched her own.
“My lord -”
“Quiet, I am capable of looking for myself.” The voice confirmed what she already knew. Voldemort was here, in the library, mere meters from her, and Draco Malfoy was pressed up against her in a dark corner attempting to conceal them both. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to block him out. “Quite a collection isn’t it?” She listened as he prattled on complementing the extensive library.
“Hm, where is your copy of The Sacred 28?” She heard the footsteps receding to the other side of the Library.
It felt like hours before she opened her eyes again, she was met with the same grey eyes. Neither of them moved, staring into each others very souls. It was strangely intimate. No, he was saving himself. How would he explain to the dark lord as to why a mudblood was freely exploring the manor? That was the only logical explanation to his reaction. Her lungs screamed for oxygen, her head started spinning. Hermione grabbed the collar of his usual white button down, grabbing onto it hanging on as if she was going to fall through the earth. She felt his breath hitch, catching in his throat like her own had moments before.
“Draco?” Voldemort had spotted them, panic seeped into her bones before Malfloy did the unthinkable.
“Don’t scream,” he whispered, so quietly it was barely a breath, he smelled so good. He moved his hand back to her side, gripping her hip roughly she was sure he'd leave a bruise, the other released her mouth cupping the side of face. Cold, soft lips met hers, she melted into a puddle of nothing, her eyes fluttered closed. She should push him away, break the kiss, do something! Instead of any of the other open options her lips moved against his. The taste of spearmint toothpaste flourished on her lips. She gripped his shirt tighter, telling herself she was just trying to conceal herself further behind his broad frame. Not that she’d liked it. He pressed into her further if that was even possible, fuck, this shouldn't feel so good. Her mind was racing at a million miles an hour, this could not be happening.
“Ah, my lord, I believe Draco is busy.” A male voice stated, suppressing laughter.
“I see, all men have needs Zabini.” Voldemort laughed, the sound of footsteps disappeared behind the library door. Hermione had saved enough women from their prison cells to know what Voldemort thought of women, the statement didn’t surprise her in the slightest. Wait, Zabini? As in Blaise Zabini? She didn’t think Malfoy had ever been close to him.
He pulled back abruptly, his hands leaving her body instantly, panting, his eyebrows knitted together, storming out of the library slamming the door behind him.
She sunk to the floor, hugging her legs to her chest, ignoring the blush in her cheeks. Draco had kissed her and she’d kissed him back. Hermione didn’t know what was worse. She sat on the floor in that corner for eternity before escaping back to her room.
Draco:
Draco stormed toward the drawing room, taking the steps two, three at a time. What the fuck was he thinking? He’d ruined the entire plan in one moment. He could’ve just pretended to do anything but that, but no he had to go and kiss her. Fat chance she’d trust him now. But she’d kissed him back hadn’t she? Did he want her to? No, of course not. She was… her, they, no. There was no way in hell he’d ever consider it… Granger wasn’t ugly, she’d never been. She had those wide, distracting caramel eyes framed with thick dark lashes, her hair changed colour in the sun, the rosy pink blush that creeped onto her cheeks anytime she answered a question in class and noticed everyone looking at her, how warm they felt against his skin. But she was Hermione Granger for fucks sake, she was the opposite to him in every way. Right? Why did he care, why’d he even notice the way her lashes brought out the colour in her eyes, or how she bit her lip whenever she was thinking too hard. Why did any of it matter to him?
He paced across the room, crossing the small room in three easy strides, dragging his hands through his hair over, and over again. Trying to rangle his thoughts into an order that made sense, trying to rationalize what just happened. Why the FUCK did Voldemort need his personal library? For a copy of Scared 28? Everyone had that book, why did he need Dracos copy? Did he know about his plans? His chest heaved, he couldn’t get a full breath in, his throat tightened. He clawed at the buttons trying to relieve the pressure. Sweat started dripping from his palms, he sat on the couch wiping them on his trousers. His knees bounced, breath in, out, in, out. Fuck, he couldn’t escape in. He got up again, walking towards the liquor, pouring himself a glass with a shaky hand. He swung the liquid into his throat, before pouring himself another. He needed to get out. He rolled his neck on his shoulders, savoring the burn of the liquor in his throat, waiting for it to settle in his brain. Setting the glass down, picking up his wand from beside the abandoned game of chess, he made his way to the broom shed.
Flying helped, he didn’t feel trapped when he was flying. He wished he could fly away from here, away from everything, all the time. He’d hated it, he never even wanted to take the mark. Everything he’d ever done was to his fathers command. Now he just did what was necessary for survival. This ridiculous plan was for his friends, his family. They wanted out, so Draco did what Draco does. He makes a plan, he was the brains to the operation. He was logical. Just like Granger.
The cool wind nipped at his cheeks and bare chest. He hadn’t bothered dressing for the occasion. It took three loops of the manor and the nearby forest before he felt the grip on his throat fade. Draco didn’t fly much anymore, no reason to, not enough time. Between Granger, Voldemort, and trying to rebuild wizarding society he hadn’t had time to even wank let alone fly. He stayed in the sky for a while later, the sun had started to set before he’d made his way down.
He walked through the garden, back towards the manor, he couldn't help but look at the window Granger claimed as her own. Oddly, he found caramel eyes burning right through him.