Rating: PG-13 (For language and sexual references)
Disclaimer: HP isn't mine, I'm just borrowing the characters for a short time. hehe that rhymed ^_^
A/N: Be sure to read the author's note at the end!
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Here with Me"
I didn't hear you leave, I wonder how am I still here, I don't want to move a thing, it might change my memory
Oh I am what I am, I'll do what I want, but I can't hide
I won't go, I won't sleep, I can't breathe, until you're resting here with me
I won't leave, I can't hide, I cannot be, until you're resting here with me
I don't want to call my friends, they might wake me from this dream
And I can't leave this bed, risk forgetting all that's been
Oh I am what I am, I'll do what I want but I can't hide
I won't go, I won't sleep, I can't breathe until you're resting here with me
I won't leave, I can't hide, I cannot be, until you're resting here with me...
By: Dido
~*~*~*~*~*~
Insomnia
Hermione cringed as the unmistakable sound of breaking glass resounded off the walls of her four-poster bedroom. Normally, she would have been alarmed by the noise, but its familiarity was almost comforting. Sure, she could think of far more pleasing sounds, but common occurrences tend to effect one's perception of what is comforting and what is not.
Since Hermione conducts her everyday life in a very stringent fashion, it's only natural that this familiar routine would provide her with some bizarre form of reassurance. Yet, despite the little comfort the noise brought, she couldn't help but frown in worry and disapproval at the sound of yet another glass item being thrown. In fact, it wasn't so much the sound of shattering glass that worried her. It was the fact that the person throwing the glass was very unstable, extremely unbalanced, and, well, having a bloody tantrum, for Merlin's sake!
Given that this was a regular occurrence, it would certainly concern anyone with half a heart, but considering who the destructive person was Hermione could honestly say that she was not the least bit surprised by this deranged behavior.
Even before she was made Head girl, she was quite familiar with Draco's rather violent tendencies. However, it wasn't until after she was made Head girl and Draco Head boy, that she realized how truly violent Draco could be. From what she could determine Draco never slept, for he spent the majority of the night cursing and vandalizing his quarters.
The first night she had witnessed this behavior, she had jumped out of her bed in fright, thinking that Draco was under siege and that his attacker was trying to kill him, not with magic, but with what sounded like an alarm clock, for it kept screaming the time. Sure, Hermione despised the spoiled Slytherin git, and had prayed for his death on more than one occasion, but this was bloody ridiculous. Nobody deserved to be beaten to death by a talking alarm clock. However, as she crept across their common room, wand in hand, she realized that the only thing under attack was Malfoy's bloody clock. This was made evident by the fact that Draco's clock was no longer screaming the time, but instead begging for mercy.
At this realization, Hermione was torn between storming into Draco's room and cussing him out for nearly giving her a heart attack or running back to her room and avoiding any and all confrontation with an apparently very homicidal Malfoy. However, in the end she opted to go back to her quarters and pray that the sounds of chaos and destruction would eventually stop.
It has now been nearly two weeks since that first incident and the war between Draco and his personal belongings rages on.
Over time Hermione was able to adjust to the incessant racket, and she even got to the point where she feared that she would never be able to fall asleep again, that is without the constant sound of breaking glass and splintering wood. However, in the end she figured that she had it easy compared to Draco, for whether it was noisy or quiet, Draco could never seem to fall asleep because he suffered from insomnia.
On more than one occasion, Hermione has been tempted to confront Draco about his insomnia and his rather loud way of dealing with it, but she feared that if she did, Draco would abandon the destruction of his personal belongings and start venting his frustration through her. It was enough that he regularly taunted her with foul names and crude remarks, but did she really need to live in constant fear that Draco would realize that throwing her across the room would be far more entertaining than torturing his alarm clock? So she did what any respectable and brave Gryffindor would do--- avoid Malfoy at all costs and keep her door locked at all times.
But tonight would be different. Tonight, she was determined to confront him, even if that meant losing a limb or two--- or three. Yes, tonight she would show a little compassion for the prince of Slytherin and attempt to ease his suffering (and hers) by telling him about the books she had researched on insomnia. For, even if she had adjusted to the noise, she still didn't want to have to spend her last year at Hogwarts living and sleeping in constant fear that Draco would throttle her in her sleep. So with great reluctance, Hermione forced herself to get out of the safe confines of her queen-sized bed and headed toward her bedroom door.
~*~*~*~*~
Ok, so maybe this wasn't one of Hermione's more clever ideas. Sure, she had spent the past week rifling through dusty, tattered books in the school library, taking notes on ways to cope with insomnia. Hell, she had even gone so far as to skip meals in hope that she could find something useful that she might have missed during her previous research sessions. But despite the precious hours of study time she had sacrificed for one emotionally unstable Slytherin, nothing could prepare her for the fact that she would have to pitch her ideas to someone who would love nothing more than to break each and every bone in her little muggle-born body.
So, why was she doing this again?
"Because I have a bloody death wish," Hermione grumbled as she glared at Draco's bedroom door. "Of all the people that could have been made Head boy, it had to be none other than Draco Malfoy!" she thought vehemently, as she anxiously rung her hands.
Hell, had it been anyone else she would have confronted them ages ago. But even as she stood outside the threshold to Draco's quarters, she still couldn't bring herself to knock on the damn door!
"Just relax, you stupid twit!" Hermione silently cursed. "You're a bloody Gryffindor for Merlin's sake! You can't honestly be afraid of the poster boy for spoiled, insufferable gits, now can you?!? Just knock on the bloody door!"
So, with that last thought (or was it a command?) Hermione unclenched her sweaty hands and reluctantly knocked on the door.
For a fleeting moment she hoped that Draco wouldn't be able to hear her knocking over the ruckus he was causing. However, the moment she lowered her fist back down to her side, for the first time in nearly two weeks Draco's room suddenly became eerily silent.
"Damn!" she muttered.
She was just about to consider making a run for it, when a very flushed and rumpled Draco flung open his bedroom door, causing an already very nervous Hermione to jump and shriek in surprise. Instinctively she placed a trembling hand on her now pounding heart and stared reproachfully at the boy who for the second time this year had nearly given her a heart attack.
"Granger."
"Malfoy," she replied haughtily.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" he smirked, allowing his silver gaze to rove over the length of her figure, eyeing her, appreciatively?
"Leave it to Malfoy to twist something that was supposed to sound polite and cordial into a sarcastic and insinuating remark," she thought resentfully, noticing the direction of his gaze.
Suddenly, feeling extremely self-conscious, she folded her arms across her chest in annoyance and silently berated herself for not changing into more appropriate attire. Surely she could have at least thrown a sweatshirt over her white, spaghetti-strap tank-top and ratty, thread-bare cotton shorts. Then again, Draco wasn't exactly dressed any better. He was wearing a grey wife-beater that accentuated his toned and rather sculpted arms and a pair of black, silk boxers. She also noticed that his brilliant golden tresses were no longer slicked back, but instead hanging haphazardly across his pale, aristocratic face, causing the pink flush that colored his cheeks to accent his vivid grey eyes.
"We need to talk!" she demanded, a little too forcefully, and since when did her voice sound this squeaky?
Draco, who had just moment's ago been leering at her half-heartedly, was now frowning and eyeing her suspiciously at this last statement.
"We need to talk?" he mocked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
"Yes we do!" Hermione harrumphed, as she stared defiantly into his incredulous grey eyes.
"Well, then." Draco drawled, smirking as Hermione cowered under his fierce gaze. "Please. do come in."
His arm which had been propped against the doorframe carelessly fell to his side and with an exaggerated gesture he signaled for her to step inside, allowing her just enough room to squeeze past him. Had he not be holding the door with his other hand, and pretty much blocking the entrance with his towering form, Hermione might have been able to avoid any and all physical contact with him. However, in order to get inside his room, she had to literally walk sideways through the doorframe.
As she attempted to slide past him, she realized at the last moment that the gap between her and Draco was far too narrow for her to slip past without certain unpleasant consequences. So, much to her disgust, her breasts grazed Draco's broad chest as she wriggled past him and cringed inwardly when Draco's subtle smirk broadened into a wicked grin.
Once inside, Hermione angrily swung around to face him and crossed her arms, disgust evident in her amber eyes.
"You perverted, obnoxious pig!" Hermione seethed, as Draco slowly shut the door and turned to face her. She couldn't help but flush with embarrassment when she noticed his sly and triumphant smile, and glared accusingly at the smug Slytherin. "You did that on purpose!"
Draco chuckled softly at the small girl before him and walked toward her until he stood mere inches in front of her, forcing her to look up into his vibrant grey eyes. "I may be a perverted, obnoxious pig, but at least I'm not a filthy mudblood, eh Granger?"
Hermione's mouth fell open in shock at his audacity to say something so cruel and she silently watched as Draco cast her one last triumphant smirk before walking past her toward his lavish bed. He had to sidestep several pieces of broken glass that still littered the floor, but once past the lethal mess he carelessly flopped down onto his ivy bedspread, and leisurely placed his hands behind his head.
"Besides, you've got nice tits," Draco snickered, casting a suggestive glance at her chest. "I can name more than a few Slytherins who wouldn't mind rolling around in your filth--- myself not included, of course."
Hermione's mouth abruptly snapped shut with an audible click and her flushed cheeks darkened to a deep, feverish red as she glared fiercely at the sorry excuse for a human being. Her hands clenched involuntarily in unsuppressed fury, and she itched for her wand, which she had regretfully left back in her room on her nightstand. Had it not been for the broken glass that littered the floor, she would have lunged for Draco's throat and wrung his pasty neck until those damn silver eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he was painfully gasping for breath. However the odds were definitely working against her.
"I HATE you! I bloody HATE you--- you---"
"Now, now Granger. There's no reason to act uncivilized, now is there?" He chided softly, casting her a patronizing look. "I was merely stating the obvious. And before you start ranting about what a mean-spirited Slytherin I am let me remind you that the only reason I allowed you to enter my quarters was because you insisted that we needed to discuss some urgent matter that apparently couldn't wait until morning. And since I'm just dying to know what it is that such a useless mudblood such as yourself has to say, I suggest that before you say something that you'll regret, that you get on it with. Unless, of course, you would rather me remove you from my bedroom?"
With these last few words, Draco sat up from his pillow and crossed his legs, peering at her expectantly.
Hermione, who had just moments ago been determined to put Malfoy in his bloody place once and for all, was once again rendered speechless. How dare he antagonize her like this! First, he had audacity to make such lewd and foul remarks about her body. Then he openly stared at her breasts, practically undressing her with those damn, penetrating eyes of his, and now he has the nerve to lecture her about acting uncivilized while in his presence?!?
"Why that disgusting, hypocritical, self-absorbed, perverted, thinks-he-can- just-treat-me-anyway-he-pleases, prat!"
"I can't believe I even considered offering you my help, you ungrateful, condescending prick!" Hermione breathed, willing herself not to scream. "And don't you ever, EVER, even think of trying to speak to me in that way again!"
Hermione furiously swung on her heel and walked toward the door, willing herself not to sprint out of his room. But before she could even reach for the doorknob, Draco had grabbed her from behind and wrenched her back around, jerking painfully on her right arm.
The momentum from which he had pulled her had caused her to crash rather unceremoniously into his chest, giving him the opportunity to seize her other arm in his vice-like grip. He then pressed her painfully against him, and backed her into the door so that she had no means to move, let alone escape. Hermione's face was barely an inch from his broad chest and she stared at the soft, grey cotton, willing herself to remain calm.
Despite her shock and the uncompromising situation, Hermione suddenly realized how stupid she had been to think that anything good could come from a confrontation with Malfoy. Now not only was she trapped in his room and being held against her will, but she was utterly defenseless with no wand and no means to contact anyone for help. Maybe she really did have a death wish.
"Look at me, mudblood!" Draco snarled, giving her arms a hard yank for emphasis. Hermione however kept her eyes fixed on his chest, unwilling to meet his gaze.
If she were to look into his eyes, she would only confirm that what was happening was indeed real and she absolutely refused to accept her current situation. In fact, maybe if she wished hard enough this would all turn into some vivid nightmare and any moment now she would wake up from her bed- -- screaming.
Seeing that Hermione had no intention of meeting his gaze, Draco released his hold on one of her arms and grabbed the back of her hair, letting his fingers wind into the soft, russet curls, and yanked her head back, forcing her to look at him.
"I said LOOK at me, you stubborn bitch!" Draco hissed.
Hermione cringed at the fleeting pain that burned her scalp and reluctantly met his eyes, which had darkened considerably and were now burning with blind hatred.
"Now why the hell would I need help from a lowly mudblood such as you, Granger?!?" Draco demanded, giving her curls a hard tug.
As she stared into those cold, bottomless pools of liquid silver, which reflected nothing but contempt for the muggle-born girl that stood before him, Hermione suddenly realized her grave mistake. How could she have been so careless, so stupid? After nearly seven years of sharing classes with Malfoy, of always having to be the butt of his cruel jokes, had she learned nothing?
Draco was a man of pride, and he valued power above all else, even if that meant going to any means necessary in order to obtain that power. By telling Draco that she had come to him offering help she had implied that he needed help, thereby implying that he was weak. She had committed in Draco's eyes the worst possible sin, and unless she found some way to rectify the situation he would make her pay dearly for her disrespect.
So, mustering up what little courage she had left, she opened her mouth to speak and hoped that Draco would let her finish what she had to say before he did anything too rash--- or violent.
"You see the reason you can't sleep at night is because you suffer from transient insomnia, which generally occurs in people who experience prolonged periods of stress."
Hermione paused for a moment, and briefly studied his expression, which to her dismay remained unchanged. She was however, slightly relieved to see that he no longer seemed to want to kill her, for the grip on her hair had loosened considerably. In fact, it was almost as though he were waiting for her to continue. So with a deep, shaky breath Hermione continued her explanation in what she hoped was a steady tone.
"You see, insomnia is not defined by the number of hours of sleep a person gets or how long it takes a person to fall asleep because different individuals vary in their need for, and their satisfaction with, sleep. So, insomnia is instead determined by how a person's sleeping patterns affect him/her during the day. People who suffer from insomnia may be susceptible to problems such as tiredness, a lack of energy, difficulty concentrating, and irritability. While you don't seem to be lacking in energy it's quite obvious that you are more than just a tad bit irritable, otherwise I'm sure that you wouldn't go to such great lengths in order to break everything that you own."
Hermione couldn't help but smile slightly at Draco's rather sudden change in expression, for after that last, rather blunt comment of hers; he had managed to go from looking down-right constipated to looking positively flustered in a matter of seconds.
"What I do with my things is none of your bloody business, Granger!" Draco spat angrily.
"Well, what you do with your things may not be any of my business, but that doesn't change the fact that we still have to live in the same bloody dorm! Therefore anything you do directly affects me!" Hermione snapped back, starting to regain some of the confidence she thought she had lost.
"Do you honestly think I bloody care?" Draco exclaimed. "This may come as a huge shock to you Granger, but the world doesn't revolve around a mudblood bitch like you! Potty and Weasel may let you meddle in their affairs and boss them around, but what I do in my room doesn't concern an ugly hag like you!"
"Well, this ugly hag, as you so delicately put it, is concerned whether you like it or not! Do you honestly believe that I want to spend my last year at Hogwarts listening to you throw a bloody tantrum every single damn night?!?" Hermione retorted.
"Gee Granger, for a moment there I almost thought you cared!" Draco drawled, his tone oozing with sarcasm.
"Like I could ever care about a selfish, foul-mouthed, egotistical wanker like you!" Hermione snorted.
"Then why the bloody hell are you here?!?" Draco cried incredulously. "And don't give me any of that holier-than-thou Gryffindor bullshit, because I sure as hell know that you did not come in here out of compassion for a fellow Slytherin!"
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, to voice some kind of retort, but found at the last moment that words simply failed her.
"Why did I come here?" Hermione silently wondered. Sure there were the obvious reasons, but aside from that, what exactly did she expect to accomplish here tonight? That Draco would welcome her in with open arms and embrace any advice that she was willing to give? That he would be forever grateful for her sudden interest in his inability to sleep? Of course not! She knew that this would happen. She knew that Draco would react in this defensive and volatile way, and yet she was somehow able to convince herself that by confronting him she could somehow accomplish something. Yet here she was, in the arms of her nemesis no less, fighting a battle that she couldn't possibly win.
"I--- I don't know---" Hermione replied quietly, still unable to grasp a tangible answer. "I just thought--- I mean--- I---"
"What? That you could help him? Comfort him? Reach out to him? What damnit?!?"
At that moment Hermione wished more than anything that she could just leave, forget that this incident ever happened, and just go back to ignoring him, like she always did. Things were just so much simpler then, because at least then, she saw Draco as nothing more than a viscous Slytherin snob, who was completely and utterly unworthy of her time. But now, for reasons she couldn't explain, he had become someone that she had grown to care about, and as much as she didn't want to admit it, this was the real reason why she had been so reluctant to confront him; for who could have thought that Hermione Granger, honorary Gryffindor goody-two- shoes, could care about Draco Malfoy, the infamous prince of Slytherin.
Hermione having become so lost in her thoughts didn't even notice when Draco released his secure hold on her upper arm. Nor did she notice when the hand that had been ensnared in her auburn ringlets slid to the nape of her neck.
It wasn't until the pads of his fingers pressed firmly against her sensitive skin that she snapped quite suddenly out of her reverie, searching for the source of the unfamiliar, yet gentle touch. When her amber eyes met his, she noticed for the first time that Draco's features had become surprisingly calm, causing the angular plains of his face to soften considerably. However, the sharp, defensive glint in his cold grey eyes still remained, as he peered curiously into her soft, brown eyes, silently searching for the answer that she had failed to give him. Then quite abruptly, he let her go, but not before slowly letting his fingers trail through several stray curls of her wild, reddish-brown mane, causing her to shiver slightly at the loss of touch.
Taking several steps back, he studied the petite girl before him for a moment, as though searching for something that he might have missed, and then scowled when he found nothing.
"Speak of this to anyone, and you'll live to regret it, mudblood," Draco threatened quietly as he brushed a strand of honey-gold hair out of his eyes.
Hermione frowned slightly at the familiar insult, but chose not to respond. Instead, she stepped away from Draco's bedroom door and slowly closed the distance between them, until she was once again looking up into his stone, gray eyes. His face was pale and expressionless as though carved out of marble, but as she peered closer at his sharp, aristocratic features, she noticed for the first time that traces of exhaustion could be found in his otherwise flawless skin. A faint, purple shadow marred the skin beneath his eyes, and instinctively she reached a hand up to brush against the subtle imperfection, not caring what repercussions she may face for daring to touch a Malfoy.
However, as expected, Draco flinched in response to her gentle touch and impulsively grabbed her wrist and wrenched it away from his face.
"What the hell do you think you are doing, mudblood?!?" Draco demanded, his grip tightening on the offending wrist. "Did I give you permission to touch me, you filthy wench?"
"Oh, so it's alright for you to grab a fistful of my hair and pin me against your door, but I can't touch you unless I've been granted permission first, is that it?" Hermione challenged. "Well, for your information, you don't own me, therefore you have no control over what I do and don't do with my hands, so if my touch offends you that much then I suggest in the future that you not try to corner me in doorways or make bloody passes at me!"
Draco blinked several times, as though Hermione's image had somehow become distorted during her little tirade, but only found that the more he blinked the harder it was to bring her back into focus. To say that he was shocked by her abrasive and somewhat domineering behavior would have been an understatement. He couldn't even remember opening his mouth and yet at some point his mouth had fallen half way open, causing him to gape at her like bloody codfish while she continued to berate him.
"Now, if you have any intention of getting any sleep tonight, then I suggest that you let go of my arm and quit whining about what ever potential coodies I may have passed onto you, because at this rate you'll never get any sleep judging by the fit that you have now worked yourself into! So why don't you for once in your over indulged and privileged life shut up and listen to someone else for a change!"
Finally finding his voice, Draco sneered at her and hissed through clenched teeth, "Funny, but in the past few minutes I haven't been able to do anything but listen, you obnoxious cow!"
"Good!" Hermione spat. "Now why don't you march your stubborn arse over to your bed and get out of my way so I can clean this ruddy mess you've made!" Hermione instructed, pointedly pulling her wrist from his grasp.
Draco watched as Hermione strode past him, to see if she actually intended to salvage what was left of his personal belongings and was quite taken aback when she removed several rather large pieces of glass from the floor and tossed them into his trash bin.
He was considering putting a stop to this inane rubbish (even though nothing pleased him more than to see mudblood Granger clean up after him), but at the last moment he decided against it, for Hermione seemed to have discovered his wand, which conveniently enough was lying amongst the debris. Since she was now currently in the possession of his wand, he begrudgingly traipsed over to his bed, where he then flopped down with an undignified plop.
Using Draco's wand, Hermione abandoned her futile attempts to clean his room by hand and with a simple incantation, she made the room once again spotless. As she was about to place Draco's wand back on his nightstand, the sudden realization that she was currently in possession of his wand finally struck her and she quickly drew her hand back. She gently ran her fingers along the smooth length, and smirked softly, glancing triumphantly at Draco, who was now sprawled across his bed, looking truly forlorn.
"Comfortable?" Hermione teased, as she nonchalantly pocketed his wand.
"Go to hell, mudblood!" Draco snapped as he turned onto his side.
"Why do you always have to be so damn defensive," Hermione muttered, as she studied Draco's lean back, silently pondering the best possible way to approach him.
"What?!?" Draco demanded. He peered over his right shoulder and eyed her suspiciously. "What did you say?!?"
"Oh calm down!" Hermione huffed. "I mean seriously, I don't think I have ever met anyone as paranoid and uptight as you! You'd think I was trying to hex you or something, when all I am merely trying to do is---"
"What?"
Draco was now sitting up, his back as straight and tense as an arrow, his hands braised against his ivy duvet so tightly that his knuckles had turned pallid from the tension in his fingers.
Hermione's eyes went wide with surprise, but she had resisted the urge to flinch when he had shot up so abruptly. Had his face not been now mere inches from hers, her heart might not be beating so fiercely within her chest, but considering the current situation, she felt as though her heart was threatening to burst through her ribcage in a sudden fit of panic.
"And how the hell did I get on his bed?!? Does my body have such a strong will of its own, that it won't even grant my brain the courtesy of informing me when it decides to be so impulsive in instances such as these? I mean, honestly!"
Hermione, who was now sitting next to an extremely distraught Malfoy, with her legs curled under her bottom and her hands neatly folded in her lap, was wondering if having Draco's wand would make even the slightest bit of difference in her doomed fate. Especially since Draco seemed to want nothing more than to kill her at this very moment, simply because he was expecting her to utter those same words that had gotten her into this bloody mess to begin with.
"As I was trying to say," Hermione began softly, trying to choose her words very carefully. "Is that I'm merely trying to get you to relax. The sooner I can get you to relax, the faster you will fall asleep, and the sooner I can leave. So, would you please lie down. Please?"
Draco stared into her gentle, pleading eyes and frowned, causing deep lines to form around the corners of his lips. However, without so much as another word, he turned away from her and slipped beneath his duvet until the covers reached his waist. He then settled onto his back, and nestled his head against a plump silver pillow, turning ever so slightly to gaze at Hermione expectantly.
Tentatively, Hermione removed a trembling hand from her lap and reached over to run her fingers gently through wisps of Draco's hair, ignoring the sudden pleasant sensation that pulsed through her fingertips as strands of gold slipped between her fingers. His hair was amazingly soft and smooth in texture, as though woven from the finest silk.
Since Draco was still staring at her through cold, malicious eyes, she had to resist the urge to pull her hand back, but despite her intense desire to flee the room, she was still determined that this would work, that it had to work. After all, as a child it had worked for her. On more than one occasion her mother had rescued her from the monsters that dwelled within her dreams, and lulled her back to sleep with her gentle touch.
"Enjoying yourself?" Draco asked dryly.
"Shhhh. Just close your eyes and relax," Hermione whispered.
Draco scowled at her, a defiant glint flashing in his luminous eyes, but reluctantly he closed them, as though finally admitting defeat. Had it not been for the fact that Hermione was still in possession of his wand, and that she swore up and down that she would leave as soon as he fell asleep, Draco would probably have put up more of a fight, but as it was, he was surprisingly obedient.
Even though Hermione knew that the only reason he was complying with her demands was because he wanted nothing more than to rid her supposed "mudblood filth" from his room, she couldn't help but smile as she continued to melodically run her fingers through his hair.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione wasn't sure how long she was with him, but as the minutes ticked by, Draco Malfoy, infamous prince of Slytherin, and poster boy for spoiled, insufferable gits slowly but surely began to drift into a peaceful slumber. His features which had once been tense and furrowed, were now soft and lax, making him look like nothing more than a small boy, surrounded by a luminescent halo of gold hair. His pale skin which had glowed and contrasted harshly against her bronze hand, now possessed a rosy tint, and it was with little reluctance that Hermione abandoned stroking tufts of gold and honey and allowed her hand to trail down the marble plains of his face and caress his cheek gently.
But as the hours ticked by, and sleep finally claimed one very stubborn Draco Malfoy, Hermione couldn't help but hope that there was some obvious reason that she had overlooked--- some reason that demanded that she stay by his side--- and yet she knew that no such reason existed.
However, as she slowly unfurled her cramped legs and reluctantly wound her fingers one last time through his soft hair, Draco's hand which had been folded across his stomach instinctively reached for hers and drew her hand back to his face, before she could so much as pull her hand away. Confused, Hermione opened her mouth to speak; to ask whether or not he had truly been asleep this entire time, but before the words could escape past her lips, Draco spoke first.
"I lied."
"About?" Hermione whispered, noting the faint smile that touched Draco's lips.
"About what I said earlier; the truth is, I wouldn't mind rolling around in your filth either."
The End
Special thanks to my beta Tarasque!
A/N: This is a ONE SHOT fic! However, I do have plans to make a sequel ^_^ But *long pause* whether or not I make the sequel all depends on the feedback I receive. If you guys like this fic, fabulous! But tell me what you like about it! Tell me if there was anything you didn't like. Do you have any suggestions or ideas for the sequel? I worked really hard on this fic, so any and all feedback will really mean a lot to me! Thanks a bunch!
Disclaimer: HP isn't mine, I'm just borrowing the characters for a short time. hehe that rhymed ^_^
A/N: Be sure to read the author's note at the end!
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Here with Me"
I didn't hear you leave, I wonder how am I still here, I don't want to move a thing, it might change my memory
Oh I am what I am, I'll do what I want, but I can't hide
I won't go, I won't sleep, I can't breathe, until you're resting here with me
I won't leave, I can't hide, I cannot be, until you're resting here with me
I don't want to call my friends, they might wake me from this dream
And I can't leave this bed, risk forgetting all that's been
Oh I am what I am, I'll do what I want but I can't hide
I won't go, I won't sleep, I can't breathe until you're resting here with me
I won't leave, I can't hide, I cannot be, until you're resting here with me...
By: Dido
~*~*~*~*~*~
Insomnia
Hermione cringed as the unmistakable sound of breaking glass resounded off the walls of her four-poster bedroom. Normally, she would have been alarmed by the noise, but its familiarity was almost comforting. Sure, she could think of far more pleasing sounds, but common occurrences tend to effect one's perception of what is comforting and what is not.
Since Hermione conducts her everyday life in a very stringent fashion, it's only natural that this familiar routine would provide her with some bizarre form of reassurance. Yet, despite the little comfort the noise brought, she couldn't help but frown in worry and disapproval at the sound of yet another glass item being thrown. In fact, it wasn't so much the sound of shattering glass that worried her. It was the fact that the person throwing the glass was very unstable, extremely unbalanced, and, well, having a bloody tantrum, for Merlin's sake!
Given that this was a regular occurrence, it would certainly concern anyone with half a heart, but considering who the destructive person was Hermione could honestly say that she was not the least bit surprised by this deranged behavior.
Even before she was made Head girl, she was quite familiar with Draco's rather violent tendencies. However, it wasn't until after she was made Head girl and Draco Head boy, that she realized how truly violent Draco could be. From what she could determine Draco never slept, for he spent the majority of the night cursing and vandalizing his quarters.
The first night she had witnessed this behavior, she had jumped out of her bed in fright, thinking that Draco was under siege and that his attacker was trying to kill him, not with magic, but with what sounded like an alarm clock, for it kept screaming the time. Sure, Hermione despised the spoiled Slytherin git, and had prayed for his death on more than one occasion, but this was bloody ridiculous. Nobody deserved to be beaten to death by a talking alarm clock. However, as she crept across their common room, wand in hand, she realized that the only thing under attack was Malfoy's bloody clock. This was made evident by the fact that Draco's clock was no longer screaming the time, but instead begging for mercy.
At this realization, Hermione was torn between storming into Draco's room and cussing him out for nearly giving her a heart attack or running back to her room and avoiding any and all confrontation with an apparently very homicidal Malfoy. However, in the end she opted to go back to her quarters and pray that the sounds of chaos and destruction would eventually stop.
It has now been nearly two weeks since that first incident and the war between Draco and his personal belongings rages on.
Over time Hermione was able to adjust to the incessant racket, and she even got to the point where she feared that she would never be able to fall asleep again, that is without the constant sound of breaking glass and splintering wood. However, in the end she figured that she had it easy compared to Draco, for whether it was noisy or quiet, Draco could never seem to fall asleep because he suffered from insomnia.
On more than one occasion, Hermione has been tempted to confront Draco about his insomnia and his rather loud way of dealing with it, but she feared that if she did, Draco would abandon the destruction of his personal belongings and start venting his frustration through her. It was enough that he regularly taunted her with foul names and crude remarks, but did she really need to live in constant fear that Draco would realize that throwing her across the room would be far more entertaining than torturing his alarm clock? So she did what any respectable and brave Gryffindor would do--- avoid Malfoy at all costs and keep her door locked at all times.
But tonight would be different. Tonight, she was determined to confront him, even if that meant losing a limb or two--- or three. Yes, tonight she would show a little compassion for the prince of Slytherin and attempt to ease his suffering (and hers) by telling him about the books she had researched on insomnia. For, even if she had adjusted to the noise, she still didn't want to have to spend her last year at Hogwarts living and sleeping in constant fear that Draco would throttle her in her sleep. So with great reluctance, Hermione forced herself to get out of the safe confines of her queen-sized bed and headed toward her bedroom door.
~*~*~*~*~
Ok, so maybe this wasn't one of Hermione's more clever ideas. Sure, she had spent the past week rifling through dusty, tattered books in the school library, taking notes on ways to cope with insomnia. Hell, she had even gone so far as to skip meals in hope that she could find something useful that she might have missed during her previous research sessions. But despite the precious hours of study time she had sacrificed for one emotionally unstable Slytherin, nothing could prepare her for the fact that she would have to pitch her ideas to someone who would love nothing more than to break each and every bone in her little muggle-born body.
So, why was she doing this again?
"Because I have a bloody death wish," Hermione grumbled as she glared at Draco's bedroom door. "Of all the people that could have been made Head boy, it had to be none other than Draco Malfoy!" she thought vehemently, as she anxiously rung her hands.
Hell, had it been anyone else she would have confronted them ages ago. But even as she stood outside the threshold to Draco's quarters, she still couldn't bring herself to knock on the damn door!
"Just relax, you stupid twit!" Hermione silently cursed. "You're a bloody Gryffindor for Merlin's sake! You can't honestly be afraid of the poster boy for spoiled, insufferable gits, now can you?!? Just knock on the bloody door!"
So, with that last thought (or was it a command?) Hermione unclenched her sweaty hands and reluctantly knocked on the door.
For a fleeting moment she hoped that Draco wouldn't be able to hear her knocking over the ruckus he was causing. However, the moment she lowered her fist back down to her side, for the first time in nearly two weeks Draco's room suddenly became eerily silent.
"Damn!" she muttered.
She was just about to consider making a run for it, when a very flushed and rumpled Draco flung open his bedroom door, causing an already very nervous Hermione to jump and shriek in surprise. Instinctively she placed a trembling hand on her now pounding heart and stared reproachfully at the boy who for the second time this year had nearly given her a heart attack.
"Granger."
"Malfoy," she replied haughtily.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" he smirked, allowing his silver gaze to rove over the length of her figure, eyeing her, appreciatively?
"Leave it to Malfoy to twist something that was supposed to sound polite and cordial into a sarcastic and insinuating remark," she thought resentfully, noticing the direction of his gaze.
Suddenly, feeling extremely self-conscious, she folded her arms across her chest in annoyance and silently berated herself for not changing into more appropriate attire. Surely she could have at least thrown a sweatshirt over her white, spaghetti-strap tank-top and ratty, thread-bare cotton shorts. Then again, Draco wasn't exactly dressed any better. He was wearing a grey wife-beater that accentuated his toned and rather sculpted arms and a pair of black, silk boxers. She also noticed that his brilliant golden tresses were no longer slicked back, but instead hanging haphazardly across his pale, aristocratic face, causing the pink flush that colored his cheeks to accent his vivid grey eyes.
"We need to talk!" she demanded, a little too forcefully, and since when did her voice sound this squeaky?
Draco, who had just moment's ago been leering at her half-heartedly, was now frowning and eyeing her suspiciously at this last statement.
"We need to talk?" he mocked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
"Yes we do!" Hermione harrumphed, as she stared defiantly into his incredulous grey eyes.
"Well, then." Draco drawled, smirking as Hermione cowered under his fierce gaze. "Please. do come in."
His arm which had been propped against the doorframe carelessly fell to his side and with an exaggerated gesture he signaled for her to step inside, allowing her just enough room to squeeze past him. Had he not be holding the door with his other hand, and pretty much blocking the entrance with his towering form, Hermione might have been able to avoid any and all physical contact with him. However, in order to get inside his room, she had to literally walk sideways through the doorframe.
As she attempted to slide past him, she realized at the last moment that the gap between her and Draco was far too narrow for her to slip past without certain unpleasant consequences. So, much to her disgust, her breasts grazed Draco's broad chest as she wriggled past him and cringed inwardly when Draco's subtle smirk broadened into a wicked grin.
Once inside, Hermione angrily swung around to face him and crossed her arms, disgust evident in her amber eyes.
"You perverted, obnoxious pig!" Hermione seethed, as Draco slowly shut the door and turned to face her. She couldn't help but flush with embarrassment when she noticed his sly and triumphant smile, and glared accusingly at the smug Slytherin. "You did that on purpose!"
Draco chuckled softly at the small girl before him and walked toward her until he stood mere inches in front of her, forcing her to look up into his vibrant grey eyes. "I may be a perverted, obnoxious pig, but at least I'm not a filthy mudblood, eh Granger?"
Hermione's mouth fell open in shock at his audacity to say something so cruel and she silently watched as Draco cast her one last triumphant smirk before walking past her toward his lavish bed. He had to sidestep several pieces of broken glass that still littered the floor, but once past the lethal mess he carelessly flopped down onto his ivy bedspread, and leisurely placed his hands behind his head.
"Besides, you've got nice tits," Draco snickered, casting a suggestive glance at her chest. "I can name more than a few Slytherins who wouldn't mind rolling around in your filth--- myself not included, of course."
Hermione's mouth abruptly snapped shut with an audible click and her flushed cheeks darkened to a deep, feverish red as she glared fiercely at the sorry excuse for a human being. Her hands clenched involuntarily in unsuppressed fury, and she itched for her wand, which she had regretfully left back in her room on her nightstand. Had it not been for the broken glass that littered the floor, she would have lunged for Draco's throat and wrung his pasty neck until those damn silver eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he was painfully gasping for breath. However the odds were definitely working against her.
"I HATE you! I bloody HATE you--- you---"
"Now, now Granger. There's no reason to act uncivilized, now is there?" He chided softly, casting her a patronizing look. "I was merely stating the obvious. And before you start ranting about what a mean-spirited Slytherin I am let me remind you that the only reason I allowed you to enter my quarters was because you insisted that we needed to discuss some urgent matter that apparently couldn't wait until morning. And since I'm just dying to know what it is that such a useless mudblood such as yourself has to say, I suggest that before you say something that you'll regret, that you get on it with. Unless, of course, you would rather me remove you from my bedroom?"
With these last few words, Draco sat up from his pillow and crossed his legs, peering at her expectantly.
Hermione, who had just moments ago been determined to put Malfoy in his bloody place once and for all, was once again rendered speechless. How dare he antagonize her like this! First, he had audacity to make such lewd and foul remarks about her body. Then he openly stared at her breasts, practically undressing her with those damn, penetrating eyes of his, and now he has the nerve to lecture her about acting uncivilized while in his presence?!?
"Why that disgusting, hypocritical, self-absorbed, perverted, thinks-he-can- just-treat-me-anyway-he-pleases, prat!"
"I can't believe I even considered offering you my help, you ungrateful, condescending prick!" Hermione breathed, willing herself not to scream. "And don't you ever, EVER, even think of trying to speak to me in that way again!"
Hermione furiously swung on her heel and walked toward the door, willing herself not to sprint out of his room. But before she could even reach for the doorknob, Draco had grabbed her from behind and wrenched her back around, jerking painfully on her right arm.
The momentum from which he had pulled her had caused her to crash rather unceremoniously into his chest, giving him the opportunity to seize her other arm in his vice-like grip. He then pressed her painfully against him, and backed her into the door so that she had no means to move, let alone escape. Hermione's face was barely an inch from his broad chest and she stared at the soft, grey cotton, willing herself to remain calm.
Despite her shock and the uncompromising situation, Hermione suddenly realized how stupid she had been to think that anything good could come from a confrontation with Malfoy. Now not only was she trapped in his room and being held against her will, but she was utterly defenseless with no wand and no means to contact anyone for help. Maybe she really did have a death wish.
"Look at me, mudblood!" Draco snarled, giving her arms a hard yank for emphasis. Hermione however kept her eyes fixed on his chest, unwilling to meet his gaze.
If she were to look into his eyes, she would only confirm that what was happening was indeed real and she absolutely refused to accept her current situation. In fact, maybe if she wished hard enough this would all turn into some vivid nightmare and any moment now she would wake up from her bed- -- screaming.
Seeing that Hermione had no intention of meeting his gaze, Draco released his hold on one of her arms and grabbed the back of her hair, letting his fingers wind into the soft, russet curls, and yanked her head back, forcing her to look at him.
"I said LOOK at me, you stubborn bitch!" Draco hissed.
Hermione cringed at the fleeting pain that burned her scalp and reluctantly met his eyes, which had darkened considerably and were now burning with blind hatred.
"Now why the hell would I need help from a lowly mudblood such as you, Granger?!?" Draco demanded, giving her curls a hard tug.
As she stared into those cold, bottomless pools of liquid silver, which reflected nothing but contempt for the muggle-born girl that stood before him, Hermione suddenly realized her grave mistake. How could she have been so careless, so stupid? After nearly seven years of sharing classes with Malfoy, of always having to be the butt of his cruel jokes, had she learned nothing?
Draco was a man of pride, and he valued power above all else, even if that meant going to any means necessary in order to obtain that power. By telling Draco that she had come to him offering help she had implied that he needed help, thereby implying that he was weak. She had committed in Draco's eyes the worst possible sin, and unless she found some way to rectify the situation he would make her pay dearly for her disrespect.
So, mustering up what little courage she had left, she opened her mouth to speak and hoped that Draco would let her finish what she had to say before he did anything too rash--- or violent.
"You see the reason you can't sleep at night is because you suffer from transient insomnia, which generally occurs in people who experience prolonged periods of stress."
Hermione paused for a moment, and briefly studied his expression, which to her dismay remained unchanged. She was however, slightly relieved to see that he no longer seemed to want to kill her, for the grip on her hair had loosened considerably. In fact, it was almost as though he were waiting for her to continue. So with a deep, shaky breath Hermione continued her explanation in what she hoped was a steady tone.
"You see, insomnia is not defined by the number of hours of sleep a person gets or how long it takes a person to fall asleep because different individuals vary in their need for, and their satisfaction with, sleep. So, insomnia is instead determined by how a person's sleeping patterns affect him/her during the day. People who suffer from insomnia may be susceptible to problems such as tiredness, a lack of energy, difficulty concentrating, and irritability. While you don't seem to be lacking in energy it's quite obvious that you are more than just a tad bit irritable, otherwise I'm sure that you wouldn't go to such great lengths in order to break everything that you own."
Hermione couldn't help but smile slightly at Draco's rather sudden change in expression, for after that last, rather blunt comment of hers; he had managed to go from looking down-right constipated to looking positively flustered in a matter of seconds.
"What I do with my things is none of your bloody business, Granger!" Draco spat angrily.
"Well, what you do with your things may not be any of my business, but that doesn't change the fact that we still have to live in the same bloody dorm! Therefore anything you do directly affects me!" Hermione snapped back, starting to regain some of the confidence she thought she had lost.
"Do you honestly think I bloody care?" Draco exclaimed. "This may come as a huge shock to you Granger, but the world doesn't revolve around a mudblood bitch like you! Potty and Weasel may let you meddle in their affairs and boss them around, but what I do in my room doesn't concern an ugly hag like you!"
"Well, this ugly hag, as you so delicately put it, is concerned whether you like it or not! Do you honestly believe that I want to spend my last year at Hogwarts listening to you throw a bloody tantrum every single damn night?!?" Hermione retorted.
"Gee Granger, for a moment there I almost thought you cared!" Draco drawled, his tone oozing with sarcasm.
"Like I could ever care about a selfish, foul-mouthed, egotistical wanker like you!" Hermione snorted.
"Then why the bloody hell are you here?!?" Draco cried incredulously. "And don't give me any of that holier-than-thou Gryffindor bullshit, because I sure as hell know that you did not come in here out of compassion for a fellow Slytherin!"
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, to voice some kind of retort, but found at the last moment that words simply failed her.
"Why did I come here?" Hermione silently wondered. Sure there were the obvious reasons, but aside from that, what exactly did she expect to accomplish here tonight? That Draco would welcome her in with open arms and embrace any advice that she was willing to give? That he would be forever grateful for her sudden interest in his inability to sleep? Of course not! She knew that this would happen. She knew that Draco would react in this defensive and volatile way, and yet she was somehow able to convince herself that by confronting him she could somehow accomplish something. Yet here she was, in the arms of her nemesis no less, fighting a battle that she couldn't possibly win.
"I--- I don't know---" Hermione replied quietly, still unable to grasp a tangible answer. "I just thought--- I mean--- I---"
"What? That you could help him? Comfort him? Reach out to him? What damnit?!?"
At that moment Hermione wished more than anything that she could just leave, forget that this incident ever happened, and just go back to ignoring him, like she always did. Things were just so much simpler then, because at least then, she saw Draco as nothing more than a viscous Slytherin snob, who was completely and utterly unworthy of her time. But now, for reasons she couldn't explain, he had become someone that she had grown to care about, and as much as she didn't want to admit it, this was the real reason why she had been so reluctant to confront him; for who could have thought that Hermione Granger, honorary Gryffindor goody-two- shoes, could care about Draco Malfoy, the infamous prince of Slytherin.
Hermione having become so lost in her thoughts didn't even notice when Draco released his secure hold on her upper arm. Nor did she notice when the hand that had been ensnared in her auburn ringlets slid to the nape of her neck.
It wasn't until the pads of his fingers pressed firmly against her sensitive skin that she snapped quite suddenly out of her reverie, searching for the source of the unfamiliar, yet gentle touch. When her amber eyes met his, she noticed for the first time that Draco's features had become surprisingly calm, causing the angular plains of his face to soften considerably. However, the sharp, defensive glint in his cold grey eyes still remained, as he peered curiously into her soft, brown eyes, silently searching for the answer that she had failed to give him. Then quite abruptly, he let her go, but not before slowly letting his fingers trail through several stray curls of her wild, reddish-brown mane, causing her to shiver slightly at the loss of touch.
Taking several steps back, he studied the petite girl before him for a moment, as though searching for something that he might have missed, and then scowled when he found nothing.
"Speak of this to anyone, and you'll live to regret it, mudblood," Draco threatened quietly as he brushed a strand of honey-gold hair out of his eyes.
Hermione frowned slightly at the familiar insult, but chose not to respond. Instead, she stepped away from Draco's bedroom door and slowly closed the distance between them, until she was once again looking up into his stone, gray eyes. His face was pale and expressionless as though carved out of marble, but as she peered closer at his sharp, aristocratic features, she noticed for the first time that traces of exhaustion could be found in his otherwise flawless skin. A faint, purple shadow marred the skin beneath his eyes, and instinctively she reached a hand up to brush against the subtle imperfection, not caring what repercussions she may face for daring to touch a Malfoy.
However, as expected, Draco flinched in response to her gentle touch and impulsively grabbed her wrist and wrenched it away from his face.
"What the hell do you think you are doing, mudblood?!?" Draco demanded, his grip tightening on the offending wrist. "Did I give you permission to touch me, you filthy wench?"
"Oh, so it's alright for you to grab a fistful of my hair and pin me against your door, but I can't touch you unless I've been granted permission first, is that it?" Hermione challenged. "Well, for your information, you don't own me, therefore you have no control over what I do and don't do with my hands, so if my touch offends you that much then I suggest in the future that you not try to corner me in doorways or make bloody passes at me!"
Draco blinked several times, as though Hermione's image had somehow become distorted during her little tirade, but only found that the more he blinked the harder it was to bring her back into focus. To say that he was shocked by her abrasive and somewhat domineering behavior would have been an understatement. He couldn't even remember opening his mouth and yet at some point his mouth had fallen half way open, causing him to gape at her like bloody codfish while she continued to berate him.
"Now, if you have any intention of getting any sleep tonight, then I suggest that you let go of my arm and quit whining about what ever potential coodies I may have passed onto you, because at this rate you'll never get any sleep judging by the fit that you have now worked yourself into! So why don't you for once in your over indulged and privileged life shut up and listen to someone else for a change!"
Finally finding his voice, Draco sneered at her and hissed through clenched teeth, "Funny, but in the past few minutes I haven't been able to do anything but listen, you obnoxious cow!"
"Good!" Hermione spat. "Now why don't you march your stubborn arse over to your bed and get out of my way so I can clean this ruddy mess you've made!" Hermione instructed, pointedly pulling her wrist from his grasp.
Draco watched as Hermione strode past him, to see if she actually intended to salvage what was left of his personal belongings and was quite taken aback when she removed several rather large pieces of glass from the floor and tossed them into his trash bin.
He was considering putting a stop to this inane rubbish (even though nothing pleased him more than to see mudblood Granger clean up after him), but at the last moment he decided against it, for Hermione seemed to have discovered his wand, which conveniently enough was lying amongst the debris. Since she was now currently in the possession of his wand, he begrudgingly traipsed over to his bed, where he then flopped down with an undignified plop.
Using Draco's wand, Hermione abandoned her futile attempts to clean his room by hand and with a simple incantation, she made the room once again spotless. As she was about to place Draco's wand back on his nightstand, the sudden realization that she was currently in possession of his wand finally struck her and she quickly drew her hand back. She gently ran her fingers along the smooth length, and smirked softly, glancing triumphantly at Draco, who was now sprawled across his bed, looking truly forlorn.
"Comfortable?" Hermione teased, as she nonchalantly pocketed his wand.
"Go to hell, mudblood!" Draco snapped as he turned onto his side.
"Why do you always have to be so damn defensive," Hermione muttered, as she studied Draco's lean back, silently pondering the best possible way to approach him.
"What?!?" Draco demanded. He peered over his right shoulder and eyed her suspiciously. "What did you say?!?"
"Oh calm down!" Hermione huffed. "I mean seriously, I don't think I have ever met anyone as paranoid and uptight as you! You'd think I was trying to hex you or something, when all I am merely trying to do is---"
"What?"
Draco was now sitting up, his back as straight and tense as an arrow, his hands braised against his ivy duvet so tightly that his knuckles had turned pallid from the tension in his fingers.
Hermione's eyes went wide with surprise, but she had resisted the urge to flinch when he had shot up so abruptly. Had his face not been now mere inches from hers, her heart might not be beating so fiercely within her chest, but considering the current situation, she felt as though her heart was threatening to burst through her ribcage in a sudden fit of panic.
"And how the hell did I get on his bed?!? Does my body have such a strong will of its own, that it won't even grant my brain the courtesy of informing me when it decides to be so impulsive in instances such as these? I mean, honestly!"
Hermione, who was now sitting next to an extremely distraught Malfoy, with her legs curled under her bottom and her hands neatly folded in her lap, was wondering if having Draco's wand would make even the slightest bit of difference in her doomed fate. Especially since Draco seemed to want nothing more than to kill her at this very moment, simply because he was expecting her to utter those same words that had gotten her into this bloody mess to begin with.
"As I was trying to say," Hermione began softly, trying to choose her words very carefully. "Is that I'm merely trying to get you to relax. The sooner I can get you to relax, the faster you will fall asleep, and the sooner I can leave. So, would you please lie down. Please?"
Draco stared into her gentle, pleading eyes and frowned, causing deep lines to form around the corners of his lips. However, without so much as another word, he turned away from her and slipped beneath his duvet until the covers reached his waist. He then settled onto his back, and nestled his head against a plump silver pillow, turning ever so slightly to gaze at Hermione expectantly.
Tentatively, Hermione removed a trembling hand from her lap and reached over to run her fingers gently through wisps of Draco's hair, ignoring the sudden pleasant sensation that pulsed through her fingertips as strands of gold slipped between her fingers. His hair was amazingly soft and smooth in texture, as though woven from the finest silk.
Since Draco was still staring at her through cold, malicious eyes, she had to resist the urge to pull her hand back, but despite her intense desire to flee the room, she was still determined that this would work, that it had to work. After all, as a child it had worked for her. On more than one occasion her mother had rescued her from the monsters that dwelled within her dreams, and lulled her back to sleep with her gentle touch.
"Enjoying yourself?" Draco asked dryly.
"Shhhh. Just close your eyes and relax," Hermione whispered.
Draco scowled at her, a defiant glint flashing in his luminous eyes, but reluctantly he closed them, as though finally admitting defeat. Had it not been for the fact that Hermione was still in possession of his wand, and that she swore up and down that she would leave as soon as he fell asleep, Draco would probably have put up more of a fight, but as it was, he was surprisingly obedient.
Even though Hermione knew that the only reason he was complying with her demands was because he wanted nothing more than to rid her supposed "mudblood filth" from his room, she couldn't help but smile as she continued to melodically run her fingers through his hair.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione wasn't sure how long she was with him, but as the minutes ticked by, Draco Malfoy, infamous prince of Slytherin, and poster boy for spoiled, insufferable gits slowly but surely began to drift into a peaceful slumber. His features which had once been tense and furrowed, were now soft and lax, making him look like nothing more than a small boy, surrounded by a luminescent halo of gold hair. His pale skin which had glowed and contrasted harshly against her bronze hand, now possessed a rosy tint, and it was with little reluctance that Hermione abandoned stroking tufts of gold and honey and allowed her hand to trail down the marble plains of his face and caress his cheek gently.
But as the hours ticked by, and sleep finally claimed one very stubborn Draco Malfoy, Hermione couldn't help but hope that there was some obvious reason that she had overlooked--- some reason that demanded that she stay by his side--- and yet she knew that no such reason existed.
However, as she slowly unfurled her cramped legs and reluctantly wound her fingers one last time through his soft hair, Draco's hand which had been folded across his stomach instinctively reached for hers and drew her hand back to his face, before she could so much as pull her hand away. Confused, Hermione opened her mouth to speak; to ask whether or not he had truly been asleep this entire time, but before the words could escape past her lips, Draco spoke first.
"I lied."
"About?" Hermione whispered, noting the faint smile that touched Draco's lips.
"About what I said earlier; the truth is, I wouldn't mind rolling around in your filth either."
The End
Special thanks to my beta Tarasque!
A/N: This is a ONE SHOT fic! However, I do have plans to make a sequel ^_^ But *long pause* whether or not I make the sequel all depends on the feedback I receive. If you guys like this fic, fabulous! But tell me what you like about it! Tell me if there was anything you didn't like. Do you have any suggestions or ideas for the sequel? I worked really hard on this fic, so any and all feedback will really mean a lot to me! Thanks a bunch!