Chapter 3 : Meeting in the Broom Closet
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Hermione Granger was not the type of person to be seen putting on make up or searching for spells to make one’s hair shiny. Yet, that was exactly what she was doing that Thursday afternoon. The reason was that during breakfast, a big tawny owl had scooped down, knocking over the pumpkin juice pitcher, and had delivered her a message on a tied up piece of parchment. It was from him. Her mystery man. She had gotten so excited after reading it, that she jumped up, knocking over some more pumpkin juice (and causing many screams), and skipped out of the Great Hall, humming. Hermione wasn’t usually the one to behave like this –it was mostly Luna Lovegood who others expected the source of all humming to be- so many worried glances followed her out.
Now she was standing in the girls’ bathroom, putting on mascara, eye-shadow and even some lip gloss which Ginny had lent her. Ginny tried to force some eyeliner on her too, but Hermione was horrified by the very idea. Finishing with the make up, she took out the piece of parchment from her pocket and re-read it for the twentieth time that day.
I noticed yesterday at lunch that you have found my journal, which I would very much like to get back. I have also found one that looks exactly the same, which is not mine, and as I heard you talking about it, suppose that it might be yours. Could we meet today at 9 o’clock in the broom closet on the third floor, next to the painting of the three drunken men?
There was no signature, yet Hermione felt like she knew who it was. Of course, she did not know his name or his face, but she did know his deepest secrets. And in only one short hour she would be in a broom closet with him. What better place could there be?
Stuffing the message back into her pocket, she pointed her wand at her hair and murmured a spell. Instantly, her hair became smooth and shiny.
“Come on Hermione! I want to get you dressed,” she heard Ginny complaining. Hermione opened the door and found her self being dragged to her dormitory.
“Here, put these on. They are sexy, yet not too revealing for a first meeting,” Ginny said, throwing her a denim miniskirt and a bright pink spaghetti top.
“No way am I wearing that!”
“Of course you are. Now get changed. Your hair and make up is pretty by the way.”
“At least let me choose a different top. How about this purple one?” Hemione asked, holding up a purple shirt with little flower patterns on it.
“Oh come on! Show some cleavage. Turn his head. Make him stop breathing. Or okay, just wear that,” Ginny said, giving in, when she saw the look on her live dress up doll’s face.
Hermione examined her view in the mirror one last time before taking off to meet him, and she had to admit that she looked hot.
Stop sweating, stop sweating. Draco told himself again and again as he stood waiting in the closet. The light was limited, as there was only a little light bulb flickering in the corner and his heart was racing so fast, he felt like he would pass out any minute now. He was also feeling foolish for wearing that black mask (it would have reminded him of Zorro, if he had known who that was), but it seemed like a perfectly practical idea when he was still in his dormitory. After all, he did not want Granger to know it was his personal thoughts she had read. For the same purpose, he had also turned his hair a perfectly ordinary, and so nasty in his opinion, brown. Oh my Draco, I think I hear her coming. Looking down at his watch, he saw the big hand reach number twelve exactly the same time the door opened. Then, he saw her. Breathe! He had to remind himself. He never, in the seven years that he had known her, could have imagined she could be this beautiful. Her brown, usually bushy hair was all shiny and her face had a certain glow to it. Then, Draco looked down at her clothes and he felt his heart skip a beat. Why she never showed those legs off, he didn’t know.
“Hello.” she said timidly.
“Hi,” he replied, his voice hoarse.
“Umm, I have your journal with me,” Hermione said. For some strange reason, Draco did not feel the need to be rude to her. I’m sure it’s only because she has my secrets which she could reveal to anyone. Yes, that had to be it.
“As do I have yours. Shall we exchange them right now?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Hermione said, blushing as she handed him the notebook. She is not at all like I imagined. I never thought Granger had so much to her. He meant what she had written in her journal of course. His thoughts were sidetracked as he noticed her face coming alarming close to his. Maybe this closet thing was a bad… But he could not finish the sentence in his head, as her lips came crushing down against his. They were incredibly soft and smelled amazing because of the gloss. Suddenly, all thoughts were cleared from his mind as she opened her mouth and pushed her tongue up against his lower lip. Willingly, he parted them and felt her tongue slip into his mouth. Draco felt himself kissing her back with everything he had. Her hands were playing with his hair. Their lips moved in unison and their tongues danced first in his mouth, then in hers. Grabbing Hermione by the waist, he pulled her up to his eye level, so that she didn’t have to be on her toes, and she wrapped her legs around him to get closer. He felt like he would drown in the pleasure. Their lips were on fire, sparks shooting between them. Their kiss deepened and they thought nothing could break them apart. But of course, heavenly though they may have felt, they still had human needs and the need for air made them break the moment of bliss. Both leaned back gasping for air as he put her back on her feet. Oh my Draco, Oh my Draco! Did I really just make out with Hermione Granger? And did I actually enjoy it? He knew that the answer to both would have to be yes.
“Wow,” he heard Hermione (yes Hermione, not Granger) mutter.
“I, I need to go. I’m so sorry,” he said. And he was. Not only for having to leave her there without finishing what they began, but also because of the sorrow so profound on her face.
“Wait! Don’t go. Please?” He heard the alarm in her voice.
“I have to. This…this can not happen between us.”
“Why not?” she asked clearly hurt by his words.
“It…just can’t.” Draco said, filled with remorse, “Thank you for my journal,” he added with an apologetic smile, and then left her standing there in the closet.
“I don’t want to talk Ginny. I’m sorry,” Hermione answered her friend after climbing through the portrait hole. She could feel the tears building up in her eyes.
“You are not getting away this easy. I want to know what happened,” Ginny insisted and then dragged Hermione over to the couches. Hermione felt that she was being dragged around a lot these days. The common room was already empty because of the late hours and so she decided it was better to tell Ginny now then have her mentioning it at breakfast tomorrow with people to overhear them.
“Fine. I went there. He was in a black mask. We kissed. He left saying he can’t see me,” she summarized very fast to avoid the pain threatening to overcome her.
“What!? I am gonna kill that bastard if I find him! How does he dare to that?!??! What did he look like?” Ginny practically screamed.
“I don’t know. He never took off his mask, but he had brown hair that’s for sure,” Hermione said, on the verge of tears, remembering their passionate kiss in which she had grabbed his soft hair, “He was also very tall.”
“I am going to find him and then I’m going to finish him off as painfully as possible!!” Ginny continued and then started storming out of the common room and into the hall. Hermione tried running after her, but felt suddenly so weary, she couldn’t get her legs to stand up. The last thing she heard before falling into a dreamless sleep on the couch, was Ginny’s faraway cursing.
I cannot believe I did that. What the hell is wrong with me? Draco Malfoy was now laying in his bed thinking about the happenings in that little broom closet. Why had he kissed her back? He knew the answer only too well; he fancied her. Well, her written version anyway. Although that kiss and those legs make me want even more. Shit.
When he had arrived back to the Slytherin common room not too long ago, the first thing he heard was the annoying, high-pitched voice of Pansy Parkinson. He was always repulsed by the way she talked. It could be clearly heard by her tone that she was rather dumb and spoiled. Draco hated listening to her; she got on his nerves. Yet she had always been there for him when he was in a bad mood. In their first year she was the one to cheer him up after Potter had made the Quidditch team. In their third year she had consoled him after his father somehow blamed him for what Potter did to his family’s house elf. After he had been turned into a ferret in their fourth year at Hogwarts, she was the only one who did not laugh behind his back. In fact, their first make out session had taken place that night. And, only last year, when he had been given the job to sneak Death Eaters into the castle, she had been the one to take his mind off his problems by having amazing sex three times a week. He owed her a lot. And yet, saying he didn’t like her would have been an understatement. She was only a necessity.
“Hey Draco! Wait up,” he heard her call. Fuck.
“Sorry, gotta go,” he said and made his way across the room, but before he could reach the safety of his dormitory she blocked his way.
“I said wait up,” she said, clearly annoyed.
“And I said ‘gotta go’!” Draco stated fiercely.
“Mad, are you? How about getting down and dirty tonight, huh?” said Pansy, trying to sound seductive. Usually these attempts agreed with Draco, but tonight he didn’t feel at all turned on by her. He was still turned on by the kiss of course, but not at all by her.
“I said no,” he said, closing the argument and pushing past her. Tonight, in that single kiss he felt more lust toward Granger than he had ever felt for Pansy.
A/N: What do you guys think of my story so far? Please leave me a review, so that I can improve my writing. :] Thanks!
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