Despite the gravity of their previous words, Hermione couldn't stop the feminine giggle that trickled from her lips. "That from a Slytherin," she remarked. "I might be tempted to take that as a compliment from you, Malfoy."
"Don't," he said, his tone notably calmer but still tense. "And need I remind you that it is the Slytherin House that receives the most negative preconceptions? So, you can jump right off that high horse of yours, Granger, because you judge too."
The tawny-haired witch blinked in uninhibited surprise. "I...I guess you're right," she admitted begrudgingly. "But unfortunately, you conform to the stereotype-
"But you made that decision before you ever met me," he argued back. "And you made the same assumptions about every other Slytherin."
Hermione licked her lips and took a deep breath. "Okay," she started slowly. "Then I apologise for jumping to conclusions." She paused to fix him with an almost sad gaze. "It's a shame you lived up to them."
Draco tore his eyes away from her and stared at his woven fingers, feeling yet another odd flicker within his chest; roused by something she had said or done. His body and brain continued to react to her with unwelcome twitches and sensations, and he wondered briefly if it was simply psychosomatic. Either his sanity really was seeping out of his ears, or Granger was less...annoying.
He had no idea which option he preferred.
.
.
It was an accident.
Draco hadn't meant to fall asleep on the sofa again; lulled into a too-perfect sleep by her musical breaths. He'd woken up with an inappropriate stiffness between his legs and a twisted urge to steal a touch while she slept.
Maybe a taste...
Her scent was stronger in the mornings and deliciously musky, and it embedded itself into his sinuses. It reminded him of Summer outside; the Summer he had missed cooped away in Scotland, and he craved it. Her. With silent gratitude to Merlin that he'd woken first, he hastily headed to his room to nurse away his bone-hard erection, unable to resist a small stroke of her chaotic hair with slightly trembling fingers.
Her lips had never looked so inviting at that moment; slightly dry from sleep with an invitation for him to moisten them. But he didn't yield to the revolting temptation, and quickly ripped himself away, silently scolding himself all the way to his room.
He collapsed in a lonely corner of the room and buried his face in his palms, letting his self-disgust burn him from the inside out with throbbing heat. He had no idea who he hated more at that moment; her or himself.
And the worst thing; her little trick last night had left questions chewing at his mind even in his sleep. Granger was...altering things, plucking away thoughts like dying petals and muddling them up for her own amusement.
What the fuck was she doing to him?
.
.
Hermione had batted her lids by the morning and felt blissfully rested and warm, if a little disorientated. With no recollection of actually falling asleep, she wondered when exactly Malfoy had left, but a quick glance at the clock had told her she was running late on her morning routine and she didn't have time to mull over it. She skipped her shower and settled on a Scourgify to fake some freshness, before hurrying down to Herbology. Her classes passed by slowly, and she spent her lunch in the library with company in the form of a ham sandwich and her studies on Horcruxes.
Another couple of hours amongst the creaking stacks and aisles after her lessons, and she decided to head back to her dorm. Thoughts of Malfoy invaded her as she meandered down the empty corridors, dredging up memories of their heavy conversation last night. It had been one of the most intense discussions she could ever recall having, and while she was certain that she'd successfully managed to get through to him on some level, it felt like a hollow victory. He'd looked puzzled and lost, and it hadn't suited his striking features or his demeanour at all.
Too focussed on her blond houseguest, Hermione didn't notice the incessant hum around her head, nor did she notice the red blotch on the back of her hand until she reached for the doorknob.
She'd been stung.
"Oh shit," she whispered, barging her way into her dorm and burying her hand in her bag.
She could feel it now; the venom rushing skywards and bubbling in her throat, triggering the anaphylaxis. Her wind passage was starting close up and restrict her breathing, and she sputtered and coughed as she frantically rummaged through the contents of her bag. Her head began to throb and swell, and she could feel her knees buckling with fleeting energy as she struggled to suck in more oxygen.
"Malfoy!" she wheezed out desperately, sinking gracelessly to the floor and dragging her bag with her, scattering her belongings across the floorboards. "Draco!"
There went the remains of her strangled voice, as the fringes of her vision started to blur and her surroundings began to wilt. Distantly, she heard a door open, and a tall shadow lingered at the edge of her view, but it was too distorted for her to make sense of it.
That was how Draco found her; dangerously jerking with unstable heaves of her chest and a terror-wide stare. Common sense kicked in and convinced him that this was a reaction to her allergy, but he remained frozen to the spot for a long moment.
.
.
.
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