Magnetic Attraction - Chapter Thirteen

Chapter 13: Shock and Unsettled Feelings

Friday dawned windy and rainy as the last traces of fall faded into brisk winter with November right around the corner. Chill nipped at Hermione’s feet as she slipped out from under the warm comforter on Draco’s bed, only to remember she couldn’t let go of his hand. Admitting defeat, she crawled back in, reluctant to greet the day at all. After poking him incessantly in the shoulder for what seemed like an hour, which was really only about four minutes, he squinted up at her, his gray eyes running with threads of red. They both stumbled around in a stupor, with one eye open, and both were so out of it that they switched ties by accident, and only realized it halfway through breakfast when they noticed Dean Thomas’ snickers were directed at them. She blushed as she undid their knots, as Draco was still fairly blind, and silenced the seventh year Gryffindors with a steely glare.

By first period Potions they had both woken up, although they were lulled by the fumes of the elixir they were creating. Hermione leant her head on Draco’s shoulder and no one noticed as he wrapped his arm around her waist, running his fingers against the skin peeking out from between the top of her skirt and the bottom of her shirt. She didn’t mind; the soft rubbing of his fingers against her skin felt nice, almost comforting. Add to that the warm aroma around them and Slughorn’s droning voice made her want to take a nap, right on Draco’s shoulder.

It was the tower again, with snow spiraling around her and the harsh winter cold biting at the skin that the ribbons of her black dress didn’t cover. She looked down at the lawn, jaded and desperate for some outlet. ‘I hate you,’ nipped at her brain, his voice haunting her. ‘I don’t love you anymore.’ She hummed along without realizing it, the words seeming to echo across the silent grounds even though the song was long over. ‘It never was and never will be.’ She wasn’t crying like before, she wasn’t lonely and hopeless. She was simply heartbroken, nothing new. Her satin-clad feet poked out over the railing, scuffing softly on the stone. The night seemed poetic in its simplicity, so unlike the rush of three years previous. She didn’t know whether to be upset or relieved that there would be no daredevil on a broomstick to swoop under and catch her. His cold eyes seemed to glare up at her from the snow. She smiled back.

It would be so easy to just fall, but what problems had that brought her in the past? It had given her Cedric, and then caused her to open up to Draco. What a bad idea that had been. She ran a hand up her arm, knowing this was a terrible idea. This was cowardly, this finally caving in, giving up again. Wasn’t there always something to look forward to? What had happened to that theory?

And yet, the image of him sneering down at her, his face pained, ‘You don’t know how you betrayed me.’ He was being cold for no reason; the boy who she was sure had loved her. She picked up her foot and let it dangle over the edge.

The class bell rang, shocking her out of her slumber. Draco looked down at her curiously, his eyes twinkling. Not cold or hard.

“Problem, Granger?” he drawled, though his eyes showed his true concern. Hermione shivered; almost shocked that she was warm instead of freezing.

“No, Malfoy, I’m fine.” She walked in a daze to Charms, knocking her shoulder into people occasionally. Draco led her through the hall, glancing back at her as if to see if she was still there.

That hadn’t been a flashback dream; it had been new. It had been so real, so detailed. She had been back on the tower again, but why? And that feeling of her heart snapping in two, what did that mean? Then she remembered the Evanescence music, what had that been about? Frustrated now, Draco doubled back and took her arm, before pulling her into a glass alcove overlooking the lake. She couldn’t hide a tremble as she looked at him, and he noticed straight off the bat.

“Mya, what happened? And don’t say nothing, because you’re acting really odd,” he insisted, pushing his hands against her shoulders so that she leant against the wall. Hermione looked away, hiding behind a wave of her hair. He waited, not flicking back her hair for once. Finally she whispered,

“I… had a dream just now.” Immediately his face hardened and he scowled bitterly, his grip on her shoulders tightening. She winced, blinking fearfully up at him. “Stop it, Draco, you’re hurting me.” He dropped his arms and grabbed her wrists, regretting his rash actions. He turned around, unable to look at her without feeling guilty. Draco leant his forehead against the glass, breathing steam across it.

“It wasn’t about Cedric if that’s what you’re thinking.” He softened, obviously relieved, and turned to face her.

“Well, then, what was it?”

“I don’t know…” she answered, thinking of the cold and her black dress. “It’s just… something bad’s coming.” Hermione scowled at her similarity to Professor Trelawney. Rephrasing, she added, “I just have this unsettled feeling.” Draco let his concern for the frightened girl next to him override his own worry that had erupted the previous night because of Hermione’s midnight ramblings. Knowing no one in the hallway would notice, he turned back and gave her a gentle hug, letting her head rest on his shoulder.

“There’s nothing left to come, Hermione. You-Know-Who’s gone and I’m here to protect you,” he whispered in her ear, rocking her back and forth. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

She softened, burrowing her face into his robes. Hermione let the scent of him envelop her, calming her just as it had the previous Friday.

“Now we have to get to Charms, but afterwards we can skive off your Muggle Studies and talk about your dream, okay?” he soothed, running a hand through her hair. She nodded against his shirt. “Give me your hand.” He stepped backwards and slid her hand into his, before readjusting her shoulder strap and pulling her back into the throng of students that was rushing through the hallway.

She followed him obediently without complaint, watching the back of his head as it navigated the halls in front of her. He really cared about her, it seemed; more so than Harry and Ron, who she had to say did use her for homework help more often than enough for it to be suspicious. If she had told Ron he would have laughed, and Harry would have only assured her that she had nothing to worry about, and that she was being silly. Draco was the one person who actually could calm her; it was the same classic pattern. Next she would fall in love with him and he would die the next day.

That wasn’t funny.

She wouldn’t fall in love with Draco, though. He wasn’t her type.

Then what is your type? Her conscience asked. He’s smart, funny, gentle, athletic and yet not Quidditch-obsessed, understanding, and he feels really strongly for you! Hermione shrugged it off, smiling half-heartedly as Draco opened the door to the Charms classroom. Not to mention an amazing kisser and extremely attractive. Alright, she admitted he was hot, but that was nothing to base a relationship on! He was a player, for Merlin’s sake! And yet for a full week he’s only kissed you. Yeah, because she was his only option.

Well, what about that fuzzy feeling you’ve been getting recently in your stomach every time he touches you, which is, I might add, all the bloody time! She squirmed, her stomach flipping as Draco’s knee brushed hers when they sat down. He is sooo your type, you need to stop this denial. Hey, she could be coming down with the flu or something! Right, you just keep telling yourself that.

Hermione looked up at Draco again, watching as his face regained his trademark sneer as he realized his inkpot had spilled in his bag. That relationship would be doomed from the start if they ever did fall in love, because the only reason they could keep up their strange relationship now was that they were together every single second of the day. If the attraction disappeared, they would have to sneak around behind Harry and Ron, as well as deal with the rumors and random problems that came with a Slytherin and a Gryffindor being together. It wouldn’t stand a chance.

Plus, he was a racist bigot! Sure he overlooked the fact that she was a Muggleborn but it stopped with her, and he was still the conceited prat he had been before the attraction. What if they got married? Their family would be a wreck! He was a ‘dark’ pureblood, with fancy traditions and stuff that she could never become a part of. And what about the house elves? SHE MUST THINK OF THE HOUSE ELVES!

Draco’s sneer became more pronounced as the spilt ink began to drip onto his shoes. He growled at them before digging out his wand and making a big production out of cleaning the miniscule mess. Hermione rolled her eyes, bloody drama king. Honestly, it was all about his hair, his clothes, and his reputation. He was an egomaniac.

But she still felt warm and protected next to him. She felt like Cedric had never existed, and that Ron and Harry still made time for her, and that she was actually appreciated. All the positives about him, his trust, his wit, his depth, his unpredictability, his fascination for the little details, his suddenly completely adorable smirk, outweighed everything else. So what if her parents and Harry and the Weasleys and McGonagall and the entire Gryffindor seventh year surrounding them wouldn’t approve? They faded away in her mind’s eye, leaving only the two of them. She couldn’t focus on the Charge Switching spell; she didn’t think about grades, she didn’t want to lose him. Because if she lost him she wouldn’t be able to go on. And suddenly it became clear that her life would never be the same.

For she was in love with Draco bloody Malfoy.

She blinked at the realization, but didn’t have much time to think before the consequences of her actions kicked in. Both she and Draco looked up as their joined hands began to tingle. His brow furrowed in confusion as a purple glow grew from between their fingers, eventually getting brighter, attracting the attention of several of the students in desks around them. Hermione gulped. The attraction, it was ending! That could only mean that he loved her, too! Not a crush, not just a physical want, actual love! He looked up at her, as he understood what was happening, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He was too stunned to say anything. She gasped in embarrassment as all remaining heads turned in their direction, and could only stare dumbfounded at Draco. He looked back down as the glow faded. Flitwick turned around when he noticed that quills were no longer scratching across pages, in time to see the last flicker of purple light die. He promptly fainted.

Draco twitched at the soft thud of their professor hitting the floor, and she waited for his reaction. But there wasn’t one, only shock. Then, tentatively, he let go of her hand, it fell to the desk. They braced themselves for the pull, but there wasn’t one. He gulped, easing himself out of his chair to stand beside the desk. She looked up at him fearfully, unsure of what he was doing. With an uneasy smirk, he quickly swept all of his things into his bag, before giving her a polite nod, and bolting out the door. She suddenly felt so alone without him gently stroking her fingers without realizing it. A small tear crept unnoticed from the corner of her eye, while she registered what he had done.

He had left her, like so many before. Not even bothering to fetch her things, she stood up and silently followed him out of the door. The hallway was empty. So she did the only thing possible. She went back to her bedroom and tried to absorb herself into a book, to wait for him to come back.

The room felt empty without him in it.