22

* * * November 24, 1997 * * *

He felt like he must have one of those Muggle lighted signs flashing over his head as he walked from the Great Hall to Charms. Every innocent glance (or fearful glance, or sneer, or even the deliberatly avoidant non-glance of mischief-makers) brought warmth to his cheeks. Draco Malfoy was a man with a secret.

They couldn't possibly know, he reminded himself constantly. He was a Malfoy, and a consummate Slytherin! He knew damn well how to school his features into aloof neutrality no matter what his internal state. He checked his look (discreetly, of course) in every polished suit of armor he passed--rock steady and unrevealing, cool as a cucumber. Even though his insides were more like pink, bubbling champagne.

They'd kissed for hours. Kissed and talked, then kissed some more and talked some more. It had been the most sensual evening he'd ever spent. No rush, no fear of interruption, and perhaps oddest of all, no sense that he had permission to proceed further. It wasn't that she was resisting him--she certainly never pulled away--but there was some sort of restraint there, some guiding force he couldn't quite identify. Odd. He would have enthusiastically brought the evening to its natural conclusion, but something about her held him back.

That it might have been something within himself never consciously occurred to the 18-year-old.

It was very hard to get out of bed this morning. The thick logs in the fireplace had burned down to embers before they'd dozed on the divan. This was just after their last chat, her warm weight on his chest, their legs tangled. He snapped awake after what could only have been a few minutes, his whole body jerking back to awareness. She'd raised her head and given him the sweetest of smiles and said, "It's late."

"Early, actually." He eased his hand into her hair, watching it disappear almost to the wrist.

She squinted at him suspiciously, but smiled and put her head back on his chest. "We really ought to go to bed."

Though he was tempted beyond reason to reply, "Your room or mine?" Draco only nodded, playing with her hair with slow, small movements. She sighed contentedly, but followed with, "We're never going to get up for class tomorrow."

Draco grunted an affirmative, wriggling under her into a slightly more cozy position. Again they settled into a brief, contented quiet.

But she finally pushed herself up, catching his hand as it trailed out of her hair and kissing his fingertips before letting go. He shifted onto his side, making room for her to sit a moment, anticipating that she might be a little wobbly at first--and grinning fiendishly when that turned out to be the case. He watched her silently as she rose, ran her hand lightly over his hip, and went to her room. "Goodnight, Hermione," he said as she lifted the latch, earning a warm glance.

"Goodnight, Draco."

He'd been sorely tempted to run and get Zabini's potion, but in the end, he decided he didn't feel like rushing.

Monday morning came along with its typical unrelenting rudeness, only this time his insomnia didn't kick in. All those nights he'd been unable to sleep seemed to assert themselves in full when his alarm went off. He more or less rolled out of bed one section at a time, his feet hitting the cold stone floor as his upper body remained horizontal for a few more precious seconds. "Damn, I'm tired," he muttered to no one.

He barely made it to breakfast before classes started, smirking impishly when he found that Granger wasn't even there. He wrapped a pastry carefully in parchment and stuffed it in his backpack. So what if anyone saw? They'd just think he was still hungry.

When she slunk into the Charms classroom twenty minutes late, trying to mask her utterly goofy grin with a facade of chagrin, he had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep from laughing.

Jammy cow, he thought. At least we didn't have Potions first thing!

By the Goddess, she was such a Gryffindork! The girl didn't have a slick bone in her body. Helped to slay a bloody Dark Lord, and here she was, spending the morning bumbling about all moon-faced like, well, a school-girl. At least she avoided his eyes. Mother of Merlin, she'll probably come apart at the seams if she looks me in the eye.

Another first for Draco Malfoy, and one that he found surprisingly pleasant.

After Charms, he stopped her just inside the classroom door and waited until the other seventh-years had left before handing her the pastry. Her eyes had widened eagerly at the sight of the blueberry filling staining the parchment. "I'm starving! Thank you!" she said in barely more than a whisper.

"Shouldn't skip breakfast, Granger," he said officiously. "Most important meal of the day."

She paused from chomping into the pastry just long enough to level a glare. "I've picked up a bad influence," she said after gulping down a quick bite.

Draco smiled broadly, the first indulgence he'd given himself that morning. Leaning in close enough to feel the heat radiate from her skin, he whispered, "You don't know the half of it!" He cast one furtive glance around the classroom to assure himself Flitwick wasn't looking, then kissed her ear. Smugly noting that she froze in place with a look of concentration at this gesture, he added, "See you this afternoon," and sauntered off to his next class.

A secret for two.