Chapter 3
Draco takes a long sip from the bottle, flipping it back, and clears his throat.
He winces, sinking into the sheets.
The cold of the dungeons is sobering.
He licks his lips, feeling the sickening, cloying sweetness stuck to the bright taste of whiskey on his tongue. Fuck. It's like Granger are hundreds of sugar feathers.
It's sickeningly cloying.
It amuses him that she runs and shies away from him. These catch—ups were entertaining. Draco remembers her face when he told her about his desire. And, realizing the principled nature of this Gryffindor, he watched her every move like a predator with pricked ears.
He didn't give a shit.
At her. At these kids with their childish sparring sessions.
But the mark, burning his forearm and reminding him of his duty to his family, forced him to adapt to circumstances. And they were such that he had been following these fights since last Christmas. But it was only after the task announced by the Lord that Draco came up with exactly how this could play into his hands. An artifact. It is necessary to understand what kind of magic allows them to cast spells freely without detection, almost on the border with Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest. This is paramount. This is what will make it easier for him.
And everything else…
Why the hell did Granger follow him? I would have followed my usual route: the library is the Gryffindor Tower. The plan to play with her and test the bravery of this, as it turned out, coward began to take shape when, passing through the Quidditch field, Draco realized that he was being followed.
He wanted to show that he was stronger.
Click on her little upturned nose.
Well, then. Well done. He provoked me. He forced her to fight with him in order to delay her complaint about these idiots who decided to fight for easy money. He needed to buy time.
I won.
And for some reason, making his wish, he named the first thing that came to mind.
Malfoy stared at the corner of her lip and the dirt smeared on her cheek. He thought that he would bend her pride, and then the complacency, cunningly scratching something in his chest with its claws, would be enough. And so. The shock he caught in her gaze was worth all the Black family artifacts he had studied over the summer. I wanted to savor it for as long as possible.
Perhaps this is partly what prompted Draco to leave the party in honor of the first of September and find this geek in the library. That and… damn Cormac McLaggen asking him about the duel with Granger. He was muttering something about wanting either Hermione herself or a duel with her. But Malfoy was no longer listening, setting down his glass of whiskey and paving the way in his thoughts to the confused brown eyes.
Let them all go to… far away.
Burrowing into his pillow, Draco mumbled something and fell asleep thinking that this desperately stupid Gryffindor girl should be taught a lesson.
***
«Attention to detail is the main condition for any planning…» The new potions professor inspiringly explains to them, until Harry and Ron enter the laboratory and force him to turn around. He greets them and clarifies something until Hermione can't take her eyes off Lavender Brown, who is openly staring at the Weasley with a mesmerized gaze. This puts a spark of irritation in her. The girl does not allow it to grow, so attention returns to Slughorn, who asks the students:
«As I said before, I have prepared several mixtures…» He walks around the cauldrons, looking around at the students. «What kind of potions can they be?»
Hermione reacts instantly by raising her hand.
«Yes. Miss…»
«Granger, Sir.»
She goes over to the cauldrons and looks carefully at each potion, ignoring the swarming of her friends, who did not share something at the bookcase. Not noticing Malfoy standing relaxed at the shelf. She is completely immersed in her consciousness. Into your work. In her conviction that she herself and her work will be the first.
«Veritaserum» Hermione nods at the first cauldron and points to the next one, « Polyjuice Potion, hm» He freezes at the last cauldron, thinking. No. Hermione knows this potion perfectly well, but another one has hooked her, «This, professor, is Amortentia, a love potion. It smells different for everyone, depending on what they like.» The student took a deep breath, trying to fully recognize what she was feeling, «For example, I feel. The smell of mown grass, new parchment and toothpaste,» and clarifies for some reason. It seems important to her. «Mint.»
Professor Slughorn, while Granger returns to everyone, begins to explain what she already knows from textbooks. Out of the corner of her ear, she catches the clatter of Lavender and the interested gaze of several students who continue to listen to the lecture.
But the moment her and Malfoy's eyes meet, she remembers again what exactly made her perplexed.
Mown grass.
New parchment.
Mint toothpaste.
The Gryffindor hovered somewhere in prostration, feeling amortentia tickling her nose. She was pushing. She was stalking me. She didn't let me focus on the rest of the lesson.
Everything was falling out of her hands.
Hermione caught herself getting annoyed, turning into the awkwardness of her hands. She has to be the best. To protect your privacy, status and your inner peace. But Harry, ahead of her, becomes the best in this lesson. Annoyance, like a prickly tumbleweed, is scratching at my throat. Disheveled hair sticking to the neck during the preparation of the potion is infuriating, and the rotten, dust-soaked air of the laboratory increases the desire to escape from here to the street. The glances directed at her show the triumph of the students, who are pleased that at least in some ways the golden girl is not so smart. And not so strong. Because some of those eyes had already seen her fail in the dueling circle.
The last few days have been testing her strength, grinding her pride in the millstones of circumstances.
The last straw of this, of course, «wonderful» day for her was… two events at once.
The lump of uncontrollable envy did not decrease when Harry told her what he had become the first with, and showed her the textbook that he had managed to snatch from Ron with a fight. Hermione looked him over and made a note to find out what kind of half-blood Prince he was. The second event. That's what made her, taking books in her arms, still rush out into the street. It was when Lavender, grinning, confidently grabbed Ron's elbow and headed with him to the Quidditch field.
The girl stopped, furious and furious, in the courtyard of the castle, in the most remote part of it, by the road that led to the lake. Breathing. Measured and loud. Granger began to read the inscription on the cover of the book that was in her stack first. The letters forming into words calmed her down.
But a voice behind her set her back two minutes ago:
«Granger,» She jerked, turning belligerently, «You're kind of tense. »
«And you're annoying.»
Malfoy made a vague gesture with his hand, as if answering: «such as it is.» He couldn't help but feel the murderous rage emanating from her, but as if in mockery, he lazily came closer and, raising his palm, smoothed her wild hair.
«I came for a debt,» Hermione just blinked, and his lips, moving closer to her cheek, whispered. «You didn't try hard enough yesterday.»
Tracing a path with icy lips along her slightly flushed cheek, Malfoy crushed her mouth in a hard kiss. He grunted, bit her lower lip and immediately licked it.
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, trying to figure one thing out.
What is he doing?
Maybe it's her kissing experience, which she doesn't have. But Granger only gasped, dropping the books, when his tongue ran over her upper lip and, sucking in, began to suck.
Great Merlin, what is he doing?
The rage evaporated.
It was as if he was pulling emotions out of her.
She tried to repeat some of his movements, leaving her shyness on Draco's lips. And when her opponent lost his vigilance, having already bitten his lower lip, Granger pushed the arrogant Slytherin away. Her hand rose on reflex, and Hermione, preparing for the fact that her palm would burn from the force she was going to put into the slap, swung. But the long fingers closed around her wrist.
They opened a crack, but there were no words.
But it seemed that she was the only one lacking in them.
«Try harder next time,» his palm brushed softly over her wrist, and the touch disappeared. As well as the irritation, pain and anger that Draco Malfoy took with him.