Rivals since they started attending Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were always at each other’s throats. It was not enough that they were Sorted into opposing houses (certainly didn’t help matters, to be honest) but they were also vying for the top spot academically. Year after year, Hermione, brains of the Gryffindor house, had wiped the floor with Draco - the latter always coming in second. The year end feast was always a sight to behold as the young witch ensured she rubbed her victory in the wizard’s face without fail. From an outsider’s point of view, this might seem like a typical boy-hates-girl, girl-hates-him-back scenario. This was what Harry and Ron, Hermione’s best friends thought. For who would think otherwise when the sarcastic barbs were thrown left and right, the sneers commonplace, and the seething when one bests the other were evident in their rival’s faces?
Draco’s thoughts were not far off.
Oh, how he hated that girl’s guts. She was an absolute menace in class but her quips were pretty witty, he had to give her that. He thought she must also feel the same about him, for the last six years had been a string of constant bickering with no end in sight. That was, until that fateful day in Potions class in 7th year when they were partnered to brew a Sleeping Draught.
Picking up the flobberworm, Draco started to prepare the ingredient when Hermione in her haughty voice remarked, “You know you have to juice your flobberworm and that’s when you add the mucus to the cauldron, right?”
“I know that, Granger. Wouldn’t top this class if I’m as dumb as Weasley.” He smirked, too proud of himself for that comment.
Draco was waiting for a scathing comeback but all he saw was Hermione’s arched brow and her continuous chopping of sopophorous beans. He was about to focus on juicing the flobberworm when he saw - no - heard her utter the unthinkable that had him almost dropping the ingredient. His sudden cry of “what?” disturbed the entire class and, of course, its professor.
“Is there anything you would like to share with us, Mr. Malfoy?” His godfather’s questioning glance made him pause. Composing himself, Draco easily reverted to his usual mask of indifference and shook his head.
“No, sir.”
The class was quiet after that. No one expected his godfather to bat an eye or deduct points if Malfoy made a sudden faux pas.
He looked at Granger again and caught her staring at him like he grew another head - as if what she said was of no consequence.
But Draco knew he heard it.
Granger said it loud and clear.
“Keep doing that and I’ll kiss that stupid smirk off your face,” she’d said. Well, her lips weren’t technically moving but Draco was sure the swot had said those words.
Was he hallucinating? Probably.
He must have eaten less than what he’s supposed to if he heard silly words coming out of Granger.
Draco added the mucus and started stirring vigorously, brushing off the hair from his forehead as he did so.
“Oh, you look really good when your hair is not slicked back,” Granger commented, looking at him briefly and dropping her gaze down to her task. Draco chanced a look at her and she was still speaking, albeit without the words coming out of her mouth. “I just want to run my hands on those blond locks while his tongue explores me down there.”
Draco almost had apoplexy when he heard that. His grip on the stirring rod was precarious at best. Who knew that she fancied him and daydreamed about him? He was having the time of his life. Oh, this was delicious! He was now aware that Granger seemed to be audibly projecting whatever was on her mind, and he was the only one who could hear everything the witch had to say. For if anyone were aware, they surely were focused on their potions instead of gossiping about how scandalous the Gryffindor’s thoughts were.
They had finished the potion and cleaned up with no more words exchanged but the projected thoughts kept on. He found out she liked to blabber about every random thing she could think of, apart from the potion they were working on.
Hermione was preparing to pack up and leave the room when Draco spoke in a teasing, lilting voice.
“Granger.”
The swot was actually startled, her bag almost slipping from her grip.
“What do you want, Malfoy?”
“Not much. Just wanted to know what you want me to do after you run your hands on these blond locks.” Draco’s hands combed his hair as if to emphasise the point, his face sporting a huge grin.
Granger’s look of horror and disbelief was priceless. Her frantic 'screams' of, "Oh, my fucking God, what? How? Oh, God, no," were icing on the cake.
He sauntered out of the class, whistling as he went.