Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

In Need of a Little Comfort	By : Monddame Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 45107 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchinse; I never have and I never will. Furthermore, I am not making any money whatsoever from this submission...even though it would be nice...but that's illegal...but still...

Chapter List
- 1-In Need of a Little Comfort
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 4
- 5
- 6
Most heartfelt apologies for how long it has taken me to get this chapter up. Mr. Severus was giving me difficulties, but I think I�ve got him worked out now.

Anyway, as per usual, feedback is greatly encouraged. And my author page will always have the latest info on what I�m up to.

*

Reluctantly, Hermione pulled herself off of her bed for a quick shower before heading down to the Great Hall for a subdued dinner. Even more listlessly, she traipsed down to the dungeons for her detention with Professor Snape. Normally, she was able to take his acerbic personality and insistent verbal lancing in stride; however, on her way down to the Potions classroom she prayed to whatever deity might hear her to help her keep her ready tears in check tonight.

The door to the classroom was open, but the Professor was nowhere in sight. With a heavy sigh, Hermione settled behind one of the tables in the first row to wait for him. Propping her elbow on the table, she rested her chin in her palm and allowed her mind to lose focus and travel where it would. Shunning the avenue of thought that had plagued her most of the day, namely Malfoy�s fate if Voldemort were suddenly apprised of their liaisons, and instead turned to the morose pondering on other unhappy consequences a continued relationship might provoke.

She was deeply entrenched in a vision of Narcissa Malfoy scalding her with boiling hot tea for even thinking of touching her precious pureblood baby, a horrified grimace on her face at the incredibly vivid image, when Professor Snape sailed into the room, the door swinging shut behind him. Pointing his wand at the chalkboard, the instructions for the healing potion she�d missed once again appeared and with only a sardonic raising of one eyebrow in her direction, he settled behind his desk, pulling several rolls of parchment from a locked drawer. With another sigh, Hermione moved to the store room to gather the ingredients she needed for the potion and set herself to the task.

The only sounds in the room were Hermione�s quiet movements and the scratching of a quill on parchment as Professor Snape graded essays, first or second years if she had to guess judging by his constant scowl and the amount of slashing and scribbling he was doing. Making sure to double and triple check each direction before progressing, Hermione still managed to finish the potion in just over half an hour. She couldn�t stop herself from sighing once more knowing her quick completion of the task only meant she would be subjected to something much less pleasant, since half an hour would hardly satisfy the relentless Potions Master. Filling a vial and sealing it tightly, she cleaned her station completely before bringing her sample forward and placing it in an empty rack on his desk. She stood there for a long moment, waiting for him to acknowledge that she had finished.

Normally she would have cleared her throat or shuffled about nervously waiting for him to give her next set of instructions. As it was, she so easily lost herself in her dark thoughts once more; she simply stood there, staring at a spot on the wall over his right shoulder. Picturing the reaction Ron and Harry would have to the news of her�rendezvous� with a certain Slytherin, she sighed again at the futility of it all.

�While I appreciate the reprieve from your persistent, know-it-all prattle, Miss Granger, your incessant sighing is hardly a palatable replacement.� His obsidian eyes flashed at her, and she lowered her gaze, not wanting to give him the slightest opportunity to see what she was thinking about. �Now, if you are finished return to your seat and wait quietly for me to do likewise.�

His silky voice descended in pitch and volume, a dangerous, dark whisper that every student knew to fear instinctually. But Hermione was so full of her own bleak lassitude that his temper never even registered. Barely containing another sigh, she shuffled back to her seat and resumed her previous posture of chin in hand.

It was highly unusual for Hermione to sit in any one place for very long without doing something. Even if it was only mentally planning the rest of her day or working over some homework assignment in her head, there always seemed to be something constructive within her focus. But for those long minutes before Professor Snape finally rolled up the last parchment on his desk and stowed it away in the locked drawer once more she again fell into her idle daydreaming, a testament to how utterly bewildered she was. This time her imagination conjured a medieval setting where she was being burned at the stake by the husband-mongering pureblooded girls of Slytherin for sullying their prince. She was imagining herself melodramatically calling for a crucifix to be held up for her to stare at like some libertine Joan of Arc when a noise near her right ear jerked her back into attention.

Professor Snape was standing next to her chair, bent down until his face was naught but a few inches from her own. He had cleared his throat to garner her attention, but didn�t seem concerned with regaining a proper socially acceptable distance now that he had it.

�My apologies for interrupting your schoolgirl daydreaming, Miss Granger, but as you are here to serve detention and not to plan your outfit for the next trip to Hogsmeade, I think it best if you pay attention; unless of course, you�re keen on finding yourself in detention with me again next week.�

His usually impassive face, though hardly changed, was alight with some sort of malicious glee that sent shivers down her spine, completely driving away her indignation that he would insinuate that she thought about such trivial things and that her lack of attention was really his doing.

�Y-yes Professor.� She cringed inwardly at how breathy her voice sounded, indicating how affected she was by his proximity. �I mean, no Professor. S-sorry Professor.�

His thin lips quirked into what very nearly suggested a smirk which probably should have worried her, but instead she found herself leaning ever so slightly forward, mesmerized at how such a slight movement could change the dynamics of his face so dramatically. Abruptly, he pulled away, returning to his seat behind his desk.

The remainder of her detention continued in much the same manner: laborious tasks interrupted by mildly upsetting commentary and his disconcertingly close presence. Just as she was losing herself in her own thoughts while scrubbing out cauldrons or chopping up rat spleens for first year potions, he would swoop in behind her and breathe some innocuous jibe ever so slightly tinged with innuendo into her ear before retreating once more. By the time he allowed her to leave at just after eleven, Hermione was so on edge that she simply couldn�t seem to catch her breath.

Thankfully, this time her feet knew exactly where to take her as she coached herself to inhale and exhale at a normal rate. And yet, by the time she reached the portrait to the Heads� dorm she stilled hadn�t managed to regain control of herself. It was fairly late, but Hermione felt too keyed up to sleep. Deciding to read in front of the fire for awhile, she stepped through the portrait and gasped involuntarily at the sight with which she was greeted.

Malfoy was seated on the floor leaning against one of the plush chairs near fire, his books and notes spread across half the table, apparently deeply entrenched in writing an essay. It was a little odd, since he usually did his homework in the library or the Slytherin common room. But what really surprised her were not the books and parchments, but the boy himself. He was dressed more casually than she�d ever seen before: dark muggle-looking basketball shorts that revealed his long, pale and muscular legs and a tight white t-shirt that clearly outlined the muscles of his chest. But the showstopper wasn�t the delicious amounts of his pale skin visible or the firelight making his blond hair glow; it was the serene and relaxed look on his face. His patrician mask of indifference was nowhere in sight. Not even when he looked up at her standing gawking at him in the doorway.

�Hey Granger, how was your detention?�

�Fine.� He gave her that incredulous look that said he knew that wasn�t true. �Awful.�

She slunk forward and dropped onto the couch next to his chair. Drawing up his legs, he rested his forearms on his knees and gave her an understanding smile. She was amazed at the open expression on his face. It seemed he was allowing his emotions to surface�just for her; there wasn�t anyone else there, in any event.

�Uncle Sev isn�t exactly known for being lenient, is he?� He chuckled. �Did he make you dust those horrifying jars in his office? He made me do that once. I had nightmares about being dismembered and preserved for a week.�

�No, he didn�t make me do that.� She marveled at the easy feel of their conversation. It distracted her a little from her state of upheaval. �Uncle Sev?�

�Oh, yes, Professor Snape is my godfather, did you know that? I�ve always called him Uncle Sev, except in class of course.�

She did know that, but the little twinkle in his eye rendered her mute and she simply nodded. The silence between them stretched out unnervingly, at least for Hermione. Malfoy seemed to be content to just study her from his place on the floor. Growing increasingly uncomfortable, she cleared her throat searching for a topic.

�What are you working on?�

�The essay due for Arithmancy next week. I suppose you�ve finished already.�

His expression was amused, clearly indicating he wasn�t mocking her. Which was weird. She nodded again; she had finished it earlier in the week. Smiling, he shook his head and returned to his essay. Hermione let out a breath she hadn�t been aware she was holding. While Malfoy�s�pleasantness was disconcerting, it was�well, pleasant. And after her shake up in the dungeon and all the weird lust vibes between them, it was nice to just be with another person, to just exist in the same space: even with Malfoy. So, reaffirming her resolve to unwind with a book, she moved to the bookcase next to the fireplace and pulled out a very well-loved copy of David Copperfield and settled back onto the couch.

She was only half absorbed in her reading, continually making surreptitious glances at him over the top of her book until his voice cut through her dazed focus on the first page.

�Can I ask you something?� Still wary of the possible return of Malfoy the Git, she pondered his seemingly sincere tone before nodding once more. �Are you going with anyone to the Halloween Dance?�

Her heart starting thumping in her chest as her mind instantly began whirling through all the possible reasons he could want to know that for. Before she could come to a conclusion as to the safest course of action, he spoke again.

�Because, I thought, if you weren�t, it might be nice if we went together. I mean, since we�ll have to be sort of supervising and so forth anyway. You know, so we don�t have some annoying date hanging around whining about being neglected.� He took a deep breath and his eyes flickered to her face, which she was sure was an immobile mask of shock. �But if you are, that�s fine. Just�just think about it, yeah?�

He looked at her again, but she was still too stunned to move. So, with a little sigh, he gathered up his books and notes. He stood and, a little hesitantly, brushed his fingers against her cheek.

�Goodnight Hermione.�

He was halfway through his door before she was able to murmur a quiet �goodnight� in response.

She sat there, stunned, for a good long time. Did he� Was that� Stunned. Utterly and completely flummoxed. This was even stranger than eating breakfast in his bed. Well, maybe not stranger, just a different strange. Draco Malfoy asked her, Hermione Granger, to be his date � well, he didn�t use that word, but that was hardly the point � to a school dance. A public, school dance�where people would see them�together. Merlin, it was too weird. She was tempted to look for that portal to her own dimension again. Granted, his reasoning was all about convenience, but still�

So many thoughts and feelings were swirling through her head it was making her dizzy. Malfoy seemed to be doing that to her a lot lately. What would Ron and Harry think? Could she pass it off as a Head duty sort of thing? She probably could. Oh, and what would all those catty bitches who made snide comments behind her back about her being �prudish� and �unsexy� say about her showing up with Malfoy? Stupid bints, it would certainly show them that she was a perfectly desirable woman. And they would have to dance together. Malfoy was probably a great dancer. And maybe that would finally show Pansy sodding Parkinson that Malfoy could do so much better than her. Of course, she probably wouldn�t see it that way. Her and the rest of his Slytherin-Death Eater cronies would probably never let him hear the end of it.

Her mind came to a screeching halt. As much as she might want to, and Merlin, she could admit that she really, really wanted to, it was absolutely a very bad idea to be seen in public together. No doubt someone with a Death Eater daddy would mention it and then things could get very bad for Malfoy. Clutching at her hair in frustration, Hermione bit back a scream. Why couldn�t she just be allowed to be a normal teenager for once?!

Cursing Voldemort and his stupid fucking war to the very deepest pits of Hell, Hermione trudged into her room to get ready for bed; though, she was sure her dark mood wouldn�t allow her to sleep for a very long while.

*

After he�d finally gotten away from Theo and Blaise, Draco had the spent the afternoon in the library, hoping Granger would show up. When she didn�t, he supposed she must be with her friends which sent a little twinge of jealousy through his stomach. He hated that he couldn�t just go up to their tower and ask if she was there. Stupid house rivalry. Honestly, it was a little ridiculous. He didn�t know a single Slytherin who had a Gryffindor friend. What was the deal with that? It wasn�t like there weren�t nice respectable people in both houses. Dean Thomas was a decent bloke, he supposed. Seamus Finnegan was always good for a laugh; Draco couldn�t remember all the times the overenthusiastic Irish boy has burnt his own eyebrows off. And of course Granger; she was probably the most respectable person in the whole castle. As for his own house, Blaise and Theo were pretty good chaps. And Daphne Greengrass was downright sweet, for a Slytherin. Actually, Granger and Daphne would probably get along quite swimmingly given the chance.

And Draco wanted that. He wanted to be able to be seen with her in public without scandal. He wanted to introduce her to his friends, to the people they really were. And he wanted to be able to�well maybe not hang out with her friends, Merlin she had some obnoxious friends, but to at least be civil with those with whom civility was possible. He had his doubts about Weasley on that front.

So, a new layer to his plan formed. Not only did he want to spend more time with Granger, he wanted to be able to take that time anywhere, anytime. And to do that he knew he�d have to put up with her friends. Patience wasn�t his strong suit, but Draco knew for this to work, he�d have to start slowly. The Gryffindors were fairly suspicious of Slytherins in general � not without cause, he conceded � and they wouldn�t trust outright friendly gestures at first. He grimaced. At least he could still heckle a Hufflepuff or two; but it seemed that for him, lion season was over.

*

Things were falling perfectly into place. No girl from Slytherin would be going to the dance with him; and nearly all of the likely candidates from Ravenclaw were likewise�persuaded and the rest already had dates. She didn�t think there were any girls in Hufflepuff that caught his fancy and she knew he�d never be caught dead with a Gryffindor. So she was quite certain that he�d be knocking on her door fairly soon, just expecting her to be available. The wanker.

That part had been ridiculously easy as well. Just two more�enticements and he�d practically begged her to go to the dance with him. No, she would be conveniently unavailable when the git came to call, and that was just the start.

She realized she was being a bit petty; he hadn�t promised himself to her or anything. She wasn�t completely stupid, despite all opinions to the contrary. But she didn�t care. She�d done nothing but try to please him and he�d rejected her, violently. And it hurt. And nobody, but nobody, was allowed to hurt her. She got enough of that at home.

*

A/N: So a few people have mentioned it: would an e-mail update type thing be helpful/useful to you all? Is there a standard procedure for that? I could do that for you, if you like. Put your e-mail address in your comment (or make sure it is on your author page) and I�ll set it up.

Thanks again to readers/raters/reviewers!

Including: Jillianspuzzlebox, Sarah Whitman, pale one, LondonMarie, kittycat30, bLondpierogi, caseyjarryn, and dragon37.

Anon: haha, oh poor you! At least my mom let me go to bed. I�m not sure who had it worse, you or me. I agree with you though. While Draco is clearly always up for sex (what teenage boy isn�t, really), I kind of think the idea that he is affection starved would drive his need for other forms of physicality. After all, it is clearly obvious that you can have sex with someone you don�t like, but it would be much more difficult to cuddle with someone you couldn�t stand.

Dreamweaver: Your reviews make me smile. Skullduggery, love it.

Niki: Wow, thanks! Don�t worry, it�s not stalker-y, just very, very flattering!

kazfeist: I will neither confirm nor deny your suppositions. (But I will give you a sly wink.)

margaritama: No, no. No shoes flying your direction. If anything, I should be ducking shoes for that one. Apologies, I should know better. One of my pet peeves is lose/loose. I read it wrong so many times I now second guess myself when using it. Gah! I just�it�s so�! So, again, sorry for evoking one of yours!

DarQuing: No worries! I�m just overly suspicious. Blame my tortured adolescence. ;P
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In Need of a Little Comfort