Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Squirm	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 28992 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and will not make a profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
I hope everyone's had a Merry Christmas / whatever you might celebrate. It was a good one on this end. Enjoy the chapter!
~A.
Valentine's Day.
Ugh.
The one day of the year where humans celebrate fertility and the want to get it on by painting everything in red or pink hearts and stuffing themselves full of sugary sweets. We give flowers that will die, like the love we promise others, and if a gift isn't given, the results are astronomically disastrous. As a Malfoy, I try to avoid this time of the year at all costs; my newly acquired counterpart, however, seems to want to spend the holiday together.
Not that I'm complaining...much.
Secretly, there's a minute portion of me who feels a sense of excitement. I've never spent a Valentine's Day with someone I honestly… cared about. What ring of Hell have I emerged from to realize I've grown fond of Hermione Granger? What did I do in a past life to deserve all of the festive bubble hearts floating through the hallway on the way to her office, making me want to vomit? What did I do to piss Karma off so bad I'm forced to watch little magical cupids float around the Ministry and sample cheap wine in hopes of making it past her new secretary?
Oh, that's right. I kill people. That's what I've done to deserve all of this.
But have I really? I'm not sure even Jack the Ripper deserved the Hell I'm forced to endure.
As it turns out, Hermione's S.P.E.W. is hitting it off quite swimmingly in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She has her own alcove carved out in a cozy office with three subordinates beneath her and a lifetime of paperwork always neatly placed on the corner of her desk. I'm just outside the door, about to let myself in to surprise her, when I hear the faint murmur of chatter inside.
"Everything's under control," Hermione can be heard from the other side. "You're being irrational."
"You didn't see the way he looked at me, 'Mione."
Weasley. Of course, he'd be here, groveling before her on the most romantic of holidays. I shouldn't be surprised.
"You barged into his office, unannounced. I imagine he looked at you with loathing and deploration."
"This isn't funny."
"I'm not laughing."
"There's something wrong with him, Hermione. I have this… Auror's intuition. Malfoy is definitely up to something."
My breathing stills, and a cold sweat breaks out over my ivory skin. The weasel is stooping so low as to involve Hermione in his suspicions? I underestimated him. Part of me wants to storm into the room, shove my wand down his smug throat, and prove just how correct his intuition is. The rest of me beats back the idea in self-preservation, knowing to do so would only wreck my chances with the witch of my desire, not to mention it might earn me a one way ticket to Azkaban for roughing up a former Auror officer in the middle of the morning.
"You sound just like Harry all those years ago back at Hogwarts," Hermione dismisses his suspicions. "You remember how accurate he was."
"Yeah. The sod let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Harry was right."
"Do you think I've forgotten?" she hisses at him, and then I hear the scraping of a chair across the wooden floor.
"Why are you dating him, then?"
There is a pause. "It's none of your concern, Ronald."
"'Mione…"
"Don't."
"Has he threatened you?"
She gives a shrill laugh. "Oh, yes. I'm daft enough to become the victim of an abusive relationship. I'm only dating Draco because he's forced me to. -Is that what you want to hear?"
"Y'don't have to be so snippy."
"I'll be as snippy as I want to, Ron! You can't just come in here and ask me why I'm dating someone new. You walked away from this relationship, or have you forgotten?"
"That's not fair, 'Mione! How was I supposed to compete with-"
"-Compete?" she seethes. "We were together, Ron. There's nothing to compete with! Once my heart belongs to someone, it stays faithful. You should have trusted me."
Weasley produces the question in my head into words. "So, Malfoy… does your heart belong to him now?" There's an even longer pause, and I hang on bated breath. "I see... "
"Ron-"
"-I'm gonna figure out what's going on with him, and when I do, you'll see I was right. I'm never gonna stop fighting for you, Hermione."
Footsteps approach the door, and I prepare to back away and feign innocence when Hermione says, barely above a whisper, "Don't interfere."
Now, I might not be able to see what's beyond that door, but I can feel the magic intensify in the room as Weasley metaphorically hackles. "What does that mean? What aren't you telling me?"
"It means… if you love me, you'll leave Draco alone. For your sake."
"My sake? What the actual fuck, Hermione?"
"Goodbye, Ronald."
The door swings open before I have a chance to react, and I'm caught in my public eavesdropping position. I try my best to play it off, glancing at the imaginary dirt beneath my nails as if my hands are the most interesting things on the whole damn planet. It doesn't stop Weasley from glaring daggers at me and blanching at my presence.
"Malfoy…"
I snap my eyes up in his direction, nodding once while painting a smirk across my vulturine expression. "Weasley."
The git drives his shoulder into mine, but I catch him by the arm and dig my fingers tightly into his biceps, determined to make an impression.
"Draco," Hermione warns, and I release him quickly. Somehow, the witch knows I'm under her spell and cannot argue with her. Weasley storms off down the hallway. When he turns the corner, I give my full attention to Hermione as I step into her office and shut the door firmly behind me.
All of my Valentine's Day spirit has snuffed out like the many lives I've taken, and my gaze is icy as I meet her weary expression.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough."
After biting on her lower lip (which I know means she is lost in thought), she gestures to the guest chair on the other side of her desk. "Take a seat."
"Not really in the mood."
"Draco-"
"-What did you mean?"
She's quiet, assessing the room. It must be obvious how skeptical I am, because she gives a soft sigh and strums her fingers atop her planner, forcing her eyes into my own as if doing so will absolve us of all the tense energy in the room. Instead, it only pricks the monster inside of me like a needle on the edge of my thumb.
"Did you or did you not threaten Ron earlier in the month?"
My lip twitches. "Did he use the word 'threat'? I'm flattered."
"He didn't need to." She slams her palm onto the table, grasping my full attention. "I think we should have a chat. Please, take a seat."
And I do. My posterior rests comfortably on the seat cushion, and I curl my hands around the armrests, teeth clamped together and mouth arid. Hermione walks back around her desk, grabs up a quill, dips it in some ink, and begins to scribble something down on a bright pink notepad. Then, she folds it once over and slides it across the table to me.
"This was not the way I imagined us spending our first Valentine's Day together," she whispers, eyes on the note between us. "I was hoping to have more time to build trust…"
My eyes flicker up to her face, and an uneasiness settles in my stomach. "Trust?"
She nods, sitting down in her chair. There, she places her hands properly in her lap, like a formal British lady, and licks her dry lips. "I haven't been entirely honest with you."
All I can do is sit blankly across from her, tense and nervous. This all came out of the blue, and it's been my experience that particular color can only end in disaster. My hand instinctively reaches for the note, and Hermione reaches over the table, overlapping my hand with hers. "Before you read it, I want you to know… I'm not walking away from you. I'm not turning my back. Us being together… I didn't plan it. But I'm glad it's happened."
Resisting the urge to vomit, I jerk my hand out from under hers, the note between my fingers. With a sardonic smirk, I wave it in front of my face then unfold it. My eyes scan over the words, and…
My entire world shatters.
'I know.'
My hand begins to shake, and there's a sting in the back of my brain.
What does she know? She can't possibly… what does she think… I can't… Oh, Merlin. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What does it mean? What does she think she knows? Do I confront her? Threaten her? Modify her memories and make a cover story? Do I trust her?
Courage has never been my strong suit, and I'm not about to begin learning new skills this late in my life. I jerk myself up from the chair, straighten out the collar of my coat, and start toward the door.
"Draco, wait!"
"I can't."
The door shut echoes like a magical explosion down the hallway, startling a passerby. I struggle to keep my composure as a barrel past the portly gentleman, ignoring as the door comes back open behind me. There's no way I can handle looking at her right now. No way I can ask her what she thinks she knows. I need room to think. To breathe. To plan and stew and - "Fuck."
I need to kill.
Okay, remember. Not everything is as it seems in my stories, but we definately will have some interesting developments to address. Don't worry. You can trust me with this story. Please leave a review? It would mean so much!
~A.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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