Chapter 18
I was not waiting for her.
I just happened to arrive first.
That was all.
It had nothing to do with how Hermione Granger had carved her way into my mind over the last few days. Nothing to do with the way her sharp, unrelenting voice echoed through my head long after she left the room.
And it had absolutely nothing to do with how she looked at me last night.
Not with judgment. Not with pity.
You’ve just seen me.
That was dangerous.
So, no, I didn’t wait for her.
I had simply arrived early at the library because I wanted to be there, because I had things to research, and because—Merlin, shut up, Malfoy—I had nothing else to do.
And yet, as soon as I heard the soft creak of the library door swinging open, my entire body stiffened.
I did not move. I was barely breathing.
But I felt her presence before she even noticed me.
Then, there she was.
Hermione entered the room, brow furrowed in thought, a book tucked under her arm, completely unaware that I was already present. She always looked serious when she was thinking—as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Which, knowing her, she most likely did.
For a split second, I allowed myself the luxury of watching her before she noticed me.
A big mistake.
The soft candlelight flickered across her features, catching in the wild mess of her curls and illuminating her brown eyes as they scanned the shelves, her lips slightly parted in that absent-minded way that occurs when she is too deep in thought.
Something in my chest tightened.
I scowled as I returned to my book.
This was stupid.
I had spent years despising her, dismissing her, and erecting walls between us that should have been impenetrable.
And now?
Now she was everywhere.
At the library. In my thoughts. In my goddamn dreams.
A problem.
I turned a page in my book with unnecessary force, directing her attention to me.
“Oh,” she said, startled, as if she had not expected me.
I arched my brow. “Granger.”
She gave me her usual exasperated look, then sighed. “You’re here early.”
I smirked and flipped another page. “And yet, somehow, you assumed you’d have the entire library to yourself.”
“I usually do.”
I tilted my head, feigning interest. “And what exactly do you do in here all alone, Granger?”
She rolled her eyes. “Research.”
I hummed as I turned the next page, my tone infuriatingly casual. “How thrilling.”
She glared at me, but didn’t take the bait, instead moving to her usual seat across from me. I tried not to feel the strange relief that came over me when she sat down instead of leaving.
Silence settled between us, broken only by the scratch of her quill against the parchment.
I should have gotten back to reading. I should’ve ignored her presence. But instead, I found myself glancing over the edge of my book.
She bit her lip.
Her fingers tapped against the desk as she read, a restless habit she was probably unaware of.
Her curls kept falling into her face, and every few minutes, she’d push them back unconsciously.
I clenched my jaw.
It was ridiculous.
I wasn’t—I hadn’t—
I snapped my book closed.
Hermione looked up, startled.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Yes, you.
“No,” I muttered, rising abruptly. “I need more books.”
She blinked. “More books?”
“Is that a problem, Granger?”
She gave me a knowing look, as if she could see straight through me. I despised that.
“No,” she replied slowly. “It’s just that you haven’t actually read the one in front of you.”
I scowled. “Maybe I’ve already memorized it.”
She snorted. “Right. Because you enjoy light reading about ancient spell theories.
“I’m full of surprises,” I replied, stalking towards the nearest shelf.
Behind me, she laughed.
Not a sharp scoff or incredulous snort.
A true, genuine laugh.
And I—
I needed to get out of here.
I grabbed a random book without even looking at the title and sat back down, determined to ignore her and block out the sound of her voice, presence, and scent—
Too late.
She leaned forward slightly and tapped her quill on the parchment. “What are you actually reading?”
I looked at the book in my hands.
Magical Bonds and Soul Tethers.
Oh, for fucks sake.
Hermione’s gaze flickered over the title. Then her lips curled into a smirk.
I quickly closed the book.
“No comment,” I replied flatly.
She arched her brow in delight. “Are you actually researching our bond, Malfoy?”
“No.”
“You totally are.”
“I am not.”
She propped her chin in her hand, looking at me with far too much amusement. “I thought you didn’t care about all this.”
“I don’t.”
“Right.”
More silence.
I could feel her gaze on me, pressing against my skin like a burden I was unprepared to bear.
She seemed to enjoy it.
What is the worst part?
I was, too.
I closed my eyes for a moment and exhaled slowly.
This was dangerous.
I couldn’t allow her to get under my skin like this.
Not now. Not ever.
I needed to regain control.
I smirked. Allow my expression to settle into something sharp, lazy, and indifferent. I leaned forward and rested my elbows on the table, mirroring her casual posture.
“If I was researching our bond,” I said slowly and deliberately, “I’d be looking for a way to break it.”
Her smirk wavered.
For the first time in our conversation, I caught her off guard.
The satisfaction was bitter.
I should have been relieved when she looked away, pressed her lips together in frustration, sat back, and returned to her notes without saying anything.
I should’ve been happy.
But I was not.
Because I’d spent the last few days looking for her without realizing it. Because the sound of her voice began to feel less like an irritant and more like something I required.
And because the moment her smirk faded, I regretted everything I said.