Magnetic Attraction - Chapter Six

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Chapter 6: Nobodies Slut

Getting ready for bed was much less awkward that night then it had been the previous one. Draco didn’t make any snide remarks as she brushed her teeth, and had no observations to voice about her pajamas, which included a pair of black and yellow boxers, that he doubted belonged to Potter or Weasely. Likewise, she didn’t object as he stripped back down to his own boxers and pushed back the covers of his green and silver bed. Quiet had never been a word he would have ever used in reference to Granger before, other than “I wish she’d stay bloody quiet,” but now it was exactly what she was. For once he also thought of her as fragile and lost. Whatever secret she was using all of her energy to guard wasn’t good, that much he knew.

The storm outside continued to flourish as they both lay awake in the dark, and every time the loud boom echoed through the stonewalls she would twitch uneasily. The noise and bursts of light didn’t bother Draco in the slightest, but seeing her eyes shut each time would have made anybody sympathetic. Of course, the frequent clamping down on his hand didn’t help any. So without hesitation, he took his free arm and slid it under her waist, before wrapping it around her and pulling her towards him. Her back molded into every curve of his front, aided by the attraction, as she leant her head against the crook of his neck. She didn’t pull away. She had missed this feeling. Her jerking sieced, and when the next rumble of thunder came, she hardly noticed. She was safe, after all. That was what his intimate gesture of cuddling her said, I’ll protect you. They both needed each other, and they both knew it. Attraction of not, they now knew each other better than anybody else. There was no turning back.

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“Are you okay?” he asked, gripping her wrist as he slowly but surely pulled her up onto his lap. She was crying, bucket loads of salty tears mingling with the snow that clung to her pale blue dress robes. She couldn’t look at him, feeling so ashamed. What had she been thinking? “Speak to me Hermione, are you okay?” He had had the sense to change out of his dress robes for god sake, why hadn’t she? “Hermione?”

“I’m fine,” she squeaked, her face scrunched up and wet as she sat awkwardly beside him on the broom, feeling his arm still wrapped around her shoulder. Why couldn’t she stop crying? What on earth was wrong with her? Why had she jumped? He pulled her head to his chest where she sobbed about everything. Sobbed about Ron, sobbed about Harry, sobbed about Victor, sobbed about rejecting Neville, and mostly sobbed for herself.

“Bloody hell you’re not fine, you just jumped off the Astronomy tower!” His tone was soothing and mature. See, he understood her and he didn’t even know her! They were descending now, but he didn’t let go of her when their feet touched the ground. “Sh, sh, tell me what happened,” he cooed, not letting her pull away from him. “Tell me and I’ll help make it better.”

“Ron just can’t let m-me be happy! All h-he thinks about is-is this bloody compition and qu-qu-quidditch!” she stammered into his winter cloak, knowing she sounded childish but not really caring. “All of a- of a sudden I’m popular and-and interesting and hap-happy and he just has to r-ruin everything!” At that point the teen supporting her raised his hand to the back of her neck and soothingly rubbed a circle into it. “Why is it that-that no one notices m-me until I’m on-on the arm of a celebrity? And with that-that vile Rita Sk-sk-sketer woman positively every where I-I feel like no one even knew about-about me before this damn tournament!” He was reassuring, and he hugged her closely, resting his chin on the top of her head, since he was tall enough to do so, as she was only fourteen.

“Whether that’s true of not, you know it doesn’t matter. Who cares about being noticed by everyone if you know someone notices you? That you’ve changed someone’s life.” That was an interesting point, she’d never thought of it like that.

“But I haven’t changed someone’s l-life,” she whispered quietly. He stepped back and cupped her shin in his palm, tilting her head so she was forced to look into his eyes. With a weak smile he told her,

“But you have changed someone’s life. Me, right now. I was off having a pity party because my date fancied someone else when who do I see but an angel falling from the Astronomy tower. You can change someone’s life without even knowing it. Now come on Mya, let’s get you out of the snow before you freeze. How about one more dance at the ball before you go off to bed, hm?”

That memory came back in the form of a dream whenever she wanted it least but needed it most. Her pitiful, unwarranted attempt at taking her own life had led her into a great friendship, and reminded her that there was always something that made it worth holding on just a day longer. Whether it is a gentle stranger who comforts you in your hour of need, or an enemy who protected you from lightning and thunder, she couldn’t give up. So at 2am on Saturday morning, the 24 to be exact, she realized how close she had been to giving up that previous night. And yet a beautiful stranger who knew her better than anyone had once again saved her life. She’d gotten lucky, but this time she knew that it would end differently, simply because it had to.

So she snuggled closer to the second boy whose life she’s changed, breathing in his calming scent. And Hermione fell asleep with the name of the first fresh on her mind. No, she wouldn’t forget.

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When Draco woke up that morning, it felt like something had changed. There was the fact that he woke up first, and the fact that Hermione had slept in, but it was more than just the obvious. Something big had shifted, and this led him to believe that something was Hermione’s guard. She trusted him, the ultimate type of a relationship in his opinion. Also the biggest type of inter-house unity, not that he cared about such folly.

Draco looked down at the seemingly innocent girl next to him, who was wrapped in his arms and snuggled against him. It was almost scary that they were like this; this was unknown territory. This wasn’t where he was supposed to be here, not a Malfoy. It didn’t make sense.

And yet it did make sense in some freaky way, because he really was the only person who could be here. It was confusing but it was like he understood what was going on for her. Well not really, he had no idea what had happened, but he just got the sense that he could relate. Plus she was letting her guard down for him. Why him? Up until about a day ago she didn’t even know he had feelings! Less than 24 hours ago he’d hexed her friends! And yet she was on the verge of telling him something, he could feel it. The façade of bookworm Granger was slowly dropping, and he would be there when it fell.

She mumbled something sleepily, shifting her head. Draco was a light sleeper, and he had woken up when she had in the middle of the night. Of course he had never expected her to talk in her sleep, but she had surprised him, whispering something about a final dance as she breathed evenly in her slumber. How cute, she dreamed about Prince Charming and elegant balls in her sleep. Well at least he had something to tease her about. Not taunt her or insult her, just tease her.

“Fine really,” she mumbled onto his shoulder, her eyes still closed. He shifted slightly, curious as to what she was dreaming about. “Don’t say… say that. Nothings gonna… gonna happen to you.” Huh, that’s random. He blinked, wondering if he was in her dream. No, because then it would be a nightmare. Draco chuckled to himself. Hermione stirred gently, leaning her head back onto his shoulder as she warily opened her eyes. Her vision hazed as she got used to the sunlight streaming through the window.

“Morning Mya,” he whispered softly, smiling earnestly for the first time in a while. His face fogged in and out of focus as she blinked repeatedly.

“No. You’re not real. I’m still dreaming,” she said, still blinking. He raised his eyebrows, feeling the approach of a smirk. She rolled over onto her side so as to face away from him. “No. Any minute now I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone. I’m asleep, that’s all this is. You’re dead and I’m still asleep.”

“I assure you that I am not dead and you are not still asleep,” he drawled, placing a hand on her shoulder before she could accidentally trigger the attraction. Hesitantly with one eye open, she turned, seeming afraid of what she would see.

“Oh, it’s just you,” she breathed, sounding rueful. She sighed and raised her left hand to cover her eyes.

“Apparently. Honestly Hermione, who did you think I was?”

“No one, just… no one.” Well that gave him a clue as to what she was hiding. Kind of. Not really. “What time is it?”

“Dunno, I broke my alarm clock months ago.” She was too sleepy to scoff, and instead found his palm before sinking into her pillow. “So I’m guessing we’re sleeping in?”

“You guess correctly.” So she fell back asleep, trying to force old memories away as she closed her eyes and tried not to come into such contact with Draco again. He, however, was now awake and knew he would have trouble shutting his eyes again not that he was up. Instead he sat up and pulled a random book off his bedside table, opening it one handed. Upon reading the first sentence, he realized that this was the book Hermione had brought with her the previous night. He flipped it over to read the cover of the small paperback, stifling a snicker as he saw the words ‘A Princess Diaries” written in white script. So while Hermione stole an extra hour of sleep, he read the first half of the novel. Although he’d deny it if you asked, he found the muggle romance novel fairly entertaining as the main character ranted on about her troubles and obsessed over some guy named Josh Ricter. Who would have known mach ladies man Draco Malfoy would get sucked into such a book? Not Hermione. She chuckled sleepily as she opened her eyes to see him sitting in his underwear reading the pink book with what can only be described as a look of awe on his face. Upon seeing she was up he dropped the book off the side of the bed and began twiddling his thumbs, doing his best to look innocent. Sitting up beside him, she asked,

“So do you completely love Michael yet?” He scoffed and examined the nails of his free hand while she pulled her hair up with an elastic from around her wrist.

“If you haven’t already noticed Mya, I am a man, and not a gay one either. And no, I am not in love with Michael because he doesn’t hold a candle to Josh.” She raised an eyebrow and leant her head against the headboard.

“How far did you get?”

“Just passed the part where he asks her to the dance.” Nodding wisely, she sighed and wriggled under the sheets a little to free her legs.

“That explains that. You’ll see soon that Josh is an arrogant plank, a lot like you in some cases.” He once again noticed her worn boxers.

“Where’d you get those?” Hermione blinked and he rephrased. “Whose were those originally?” Sighing again, she tugged at the bottom of one of the legs, looking away from him. “There’s not some hufflepuff going commando now, is there?” Not anymore.

“It’s a very long story.”

“Um, Mya? It’s Saturday, and we have no plans, and we can’t separate. I’d say we have all the time in the world,” he observed, absentmindedly placing the tips of their fingers together. Much to his disappointment, she still didn’t look at him.

“Let’s just say it isn’t a story I want to tell.” Of course this did nothing but heighten his curiosity, though he knew he couldn’t get her to open up by force. So instead he cranked up his Malfoy charm to the max. And what a stupid man he was. Giving a sly smile he drawled,

“Fine mudblood, tell me when you’re ready. You know where I am,” as he placed his foot on the side of her leg in order to lean his head back into his hands. Of course, he accompanied the act with a sly wink. However, instead of looking flattered and ready to melt, she let out a bitter laugh.

“Do you really think that you can get this out of me by insulting me and making a pass at me in the same sentence? You’re more delusional than I thought! If I’m going to survive this hellish experience of a year in the life of Draco Malfoy, you have to realize that I am not, just another weak Slytherin slut who bends to your will.” He scowled at her as she began to pick at her nails as if arguing with him was just another thing on her daily schedule. Which it was, so to speak.

“No, because you’re Weasley’s slut, aren’t you?” Oh, he’d really hit the mark, hadn’t he? She didn’t look up from her nails but completely froze, her face scrunched up in the way it usually did when she was upset. Oh boy, he had hit her where it hurt.

“I am no one’s slut,” she hissed murderously. He could have left it there. He could have easily picked up his book from the floor and pretended it had never happened, but he just couldn’t fathom that. It didn’t even occur to him.

“That’s not what those suggest,” he drawled instead, gesturing to her boxers. What happened next could have gone many ways. She could have yelled or cried or punched him. She could have hexed him, or murdered him or anything else. But instead she chose what no one else would have. She gave up.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s over, it doesn’t matter.” Her tone had a defeatist attitude, as did her expression as she looked down mournfully at her boxers. For once, he let the conversation drop, knowing more than he had before.

“Let’s go have breakfast.”

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