AN: Although I've been publishing my stories for years, this is my first incursion into the English language. This is why I feel a bit nervous and happy at the same time. I must acknowledge that all of this would not have been possible without the hard work and golden will of Sunset82 and Hawker's Alley, who took the time to translate this short story. To them, my heartfelt gratitude.

Without further delay and eager to know your opinions,

Mad

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The Experiment

By Mad Aristocrat

Translation by Sunset82 and Hawker's Alley

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The bride was dressed in white, but it was a crude shade of white, exquisitely elegant and inlaid with delicate lace. Her thin but voluptuous figure was encased in fabric from the chest down, gaping only at back to draw the eyes to the dark hair gathered in a simple bun against her nape.

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She needed little else. She was naturally beautiful.

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She walked down an aisle decorated with freshly cut flowers, chin held high towards her beloved, who anxiously waited for her at the altar. You could tell by the way he fiddled with his glasses that he was waiting impatiently, uncomfortable with being the center of attention.

When she strolled past you it caused an odd chill, and you rubbed your arms to stifle the reaction. You knew she tolerated you, but she wasn't your biggest fan. You never quite understood why. You'd never wronged her.

The scene must've seemed peculiar to anyone looking in from the outside, since you alone sat on the right side of the church while the left side was bursting at the seams. Harry looked at you briefly before his future bride arrived at his side, and he gave you a grateful smile for being there with him.

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How could you not be?

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While you were Ginny's friend, you weren't able to abandon him when he had decided to leave the redhead and start an explosive romance with none other than Pansy Parkinson, much to the surprise of the magical community. The woman had apparently entered the Chosen One's life through sheer force of will, in a way so abrupt that it was almost violent and illegal . And yet there they were a year later. Sealing the pact. This time for eternity, even though the people in his inner circle had condemned the union.

You saw him say yes. You took pictures with the newlyweds, toasted at dinner for their happiness, had danced with him. And now you were at the afterparty, hiding in a corner, waiting for the right time to slip away without seeming rude. Being a faithful friend was one thing, but being comfortable with the situation was an entirely different matter. And you weren't. You felt out of place in the simple yellow dress that had offended so many of the elderly pureblood guests. The color had made them feel slighted. You only hoped Parkinson didn't share the sentiment. You didn't want to start things off on the wrong foot with the new Mrs. Potter.

"Who could've imagined that only one person would be sitting on the groom's side of the room? The savior of the wizarding world, and only one guest on his pews." A familiar voice rose above the noise. "I have to admit that his arrogance is commendable. It takes balls to get married despite everything that's happened."

You crossed your arms over your chest and pretended to not have heard him, but you could see him standing by your side from the corner of your eye. Impeccably dressed, steely grey eyes and golden hair brushing over his brow, Draco Malfoy held a glass of red wine in one hand while the other resided in his pocket. You cursed your bad luck. You had managed to cope with the situation throughout the evening, but now you were under his radar.

"I always thought Potter would end up with you," he continued, taking a casual sip while watching the couples move to the beat of the music. "I find it curious that you're the only one who supported his decision."

"Harry is like a brother to me," you rushed to clear up without looking, voice flat. "There is nothing between us."

"Except for a tension that's lasted for years." the prat chuckled. "Come on now, Granger. You don't have to deny it."

You did a forty-five degree turn to face him, hands set firmly on your hips.

"Stop spewing nonsense, Malfoy." you spat out the warning. "There was never any kind of tension. Besides, I'm with Ron."

He shrugged and finished his wine, discarding it on the tray of a waiter as he walked past them.

"For now." he answered casually.

"For now?"

"Everyone knows the two of you won't last."

You felt your jaw slack by some millimeters at his arrogance. Who gave him the right to comment on your relationship? That was the last straw.

"And why would they think that?" you shot back, a mixture of suspicion and anger driving you.

Malfoy plucked a second glass from the tray of a passing waiter, lifting it up in the air as if to toast, and took a sip before finally answering.

"He's a good person, but too simple-minded for the likes of you...no. That doesn't quite encompass it. What's the word again? Ah, yes. Basic. He is very basic." he said casually, making you gape with indignation. "Anyways, living in denial is up to you. At least Potter is over you now that he has Pansy. Since being with the Weaslette didn't work out and all."

You blinked, unsettled by the comment.

"Are you high?" you asked him sincerely.

"Drunk." he clarified, brows arching up in a playful gesture. "I am currently on my fifth glass. Weddings tend to give me the strangest urge to suddenly lose consciousness. Seeing that much happiness gives me a headache. I have a low tolerance for that sort of emotion, you know."

You shook your head and scoffed. If he wanted to annoy you, you were more than willing to return the favor.

"Isn't that what people usually do when their ex gets married?" if he was looking to get a rise out of you, you'd make damn sure to do the same to him. "To wonder why they moved on when you clearly haven't? Regretting your life choices, Malfoy?"

His released a quick snort in reply.

"Oh, please," he continued without a trace of discomfort. "Our relationship was purely carnal, and little else. We both knew what it was. We enjoyed our little arrangement until she fell for Saint Potter. We cut ties after that. There are no hard feelings here. The only one who can claim to be slighted is that Weasley girl, because Potter was snatched from under her nose. And maybe even you, the 'platonic' friend who never took a stab at him."

Tired of his taunts and worried someone might overhear his nonsense, you pulled him by the robes to lower him to your high and emphasize your irritation.

"Get this through that thick skull of yours, Malfoy. There is nothing going on between Harry and I." you murmured threateningly through clenched teeth.

The closeness between you only amused him. A smug smile spread across his sharp features.

"You keep telling yourself that. You might actually believe it someday." he whispered, making the situation smidge more bizarre to you. "Nice cleavage, by the way. Yellow suits you."

You stepped back abruptly, red from your head to your toes. You had forgotten that the front of the dress left the swells of your bosom up for display, and that dragging him down to your height had practically given him a front-row seat to the bits of your anatomy that you currently bared.

"Come," he said, more a command than a request as he took you by the hand and pulled you towards the crowd.

"What are you doing?"

"Let's dance, Granger."

"You want to dance with the know-it-all-Mudblood?" the biting question managed to escape through your clenched teeth.

"The very same." was his reply. He thought for a second, then added, "And, yes, I know that was sarcasm. And you bloody well know that I no longer believe that idiocy. You should know better by now. You've been my guardian for the past two years, and you have to admit that my behavior has been impeccable."

You couldn't argue against the point, since it was the truth. Following the war's end, the few members of the dark lord's army that had not been convicted, having dodged jail time for varying reasons, had been placed under the strict vigilance of the Wizengamot. The newly formed organization had asked witches and wizards of impeccable reputation to watch over Voldemort's remaining followers, making sure that they adapted to society and obeyed their established laws.

By an unexpected twist of fate that you still can't comprehend—or perhaps an irritating case of irony—you had ended paired with Draco Lucius Malfoy, who you had been forced to visit at least once a week to ensure he behaved accordingly, and to give the Wizengamot a monthly update on his progress. And even though you had absolutely disliked the idea at the beginning, Draco had seemed like a changed man from the start. There was no trace of the vile upbringing that had often made your life impossible. No. You could only see someone who was trying to better themselves, even when his personality often played against him and had caused a row or two between you.

"Why didn't he come?" he asked, drawing you away from your memories as he guided you to the middle of the floor.

"Ron?" you asked, and waited until he inclined his head to answer, "It's obvious, isn't it? Ginny's his sister. With the way things ended between them, even though they are still friends, he couldn't have risked attending Harry's wedding without earning her fury. I'm here in his stead."

"Better for me, then," He surreptitiously said against your ear, pausing to guide you into a twirl. "I get to accompany you tonight."

He pulled away and bobbed his head to the rhythm of the music, encouraging you to dance, but you only managed to look perplexed, frozen in your place. Everything felt surreal.

"Malfoy," you moved closer to him and raised your voice, wanting to be heard even through the mixture of sounds in the room, "I don't think it's wise for you to be seen with me like this. People might believe that my reports on you are not impartial."

"I don't give a shit.'' His voice rose above the ringing of instruments, "Besides, if I let you go, my mother will once again try to marry me off to some girl here. She does this every time there's a wedding because each event reminds her that I'm still single, and she's worried that I might never give her grandchildren. Consider yourself my shield for the evening."

You grabbed him by the arm to lead him away from the dance floor, and decided it was best to drag him towards the now-empty dinner tables. You had no desire to keep screaming, especially when there were so many inquisitive faces around. The last thing you wanted was to draw attention away from the newlyweds.

"And who said I would agree to that?" you spat indignantly after releasing him.

"Do you have a better plan?" he inquired mildly. "Because loafing about in a corner looking like a wounded kneazle doesn't sound very appealing to me. Besides, admit it: you enjoy yourself around me. You would've freed me from your guardianship if you didn't."

"The guardianship lasts three years," you replied in your best know-it-all voice. "I have nothing to do with that process."

"Please, Granger," he scoffed. "I'm well aware that, if a subject behaves accordingly during a certain period of time, a guardian can propose a conditional absolution."

"It's not that easy," You objected quickly, unnerved by the comment.

You could tell he sensed your discomfort, as a crooked smile made its way to his face.

"Come on, Granger. Let us speak with the frankness that only alcohol can give."

"I haven't ingested a single drop. I don't like drinking."

"We'll have to fix that. You are far too tense."

Once again, he grabbed you by the arm and led you away, this time to the open bar. You saw him whisper something to the bartender that you couldn't quite grasp, but even then, you allowed her to work her magic. Not five minutes later, flirtatious smile in place, she handed the drink over to Malfoy, and Malfoy turned to you and offered it in return. The contents of the glass looked like a damned rainbow: A kaleidoscope of colors with cream sitting at the top.

"What is this?"

"Alcohol," he replied in an aggravatingly obvious tone, "It's extremely sweet. Practically a dessert, really. It'll help you to relax."

You rolled your eyes, tired of his insistence on the subject.

"You need to stop repeating that. I'm not nervous." You defended yourself, but still reached for the drink.

He placed his hand on your back to guide you to the dinner tables.

"Don't be ashamed. It's only natural." he emphasized the last bit, though you were fully aware he was mocking you, "You are in a party for a marriage where you're the groom's only friend, surrounded by snakes and death eaters. Your balls are as big as Potter's, Granger. You have my respect."

You shrugged, sipping on the explosion of colors in your hand to avoid conversation.

"Unexpectedly delicious." you admitted.

I know, I'm always right. He never said the words, but they rang across your mind as an expression of arrogance decorated his face. He was so busy congratulating himself that it took a second for him to realize you had brought the glass to your lips again.

"Not so fast!" he exclaimed as you downed half of your drink in one gulp, "That's enough for tonight," he chided, removing the drink from your hand. "Let's get back to the dance floor."

By the time he was done escorting you back to the floor, the music had mellowed. He took his hand and placed it on your lower back to lead the dance, and you allowed yourself to be led, even going as far as closing your eyes. The alcohol, you reasoned, had probably gone to your head, preventing your no-nonsense personality from coming through.

When your lids finally fluttered open, you could feel the weight of the stares being sent in your direction.

"Everyone is staring." you murmured.

"You're only just noticing? It's impossible not to look at us, considering our history."

You release the giggle that bubbled up in your throat at the comment, but it dimmed as you caught a glimpse of the groom's green eyes. They were fixed on you, followed your every move from the opposite side of the room. His mouth was closed, but you could see the muscles on his cheeks shifting as he clenched his teeth.

"Harry doesn't look happy." The words escaped you, but they were more for you than your dance partner.

"Of course not," the blond said, "I'm dancing with his platonic love."

"Rubbish-"

"I'm not saying he doesn't love Pansy," he interrupted before you could elaborate. "He does. Otherwise he wouldn't have risked taking on the entire Weasley clan. But you will always be a thorn on his side. A reminder of everything that could've been but never was because he refused to risk his friendship with Weasley by mixing yours with love."

It sounded like he was reciting a romance novel. You laughed at the absurdity of his lucubration and chimed in with a shake of your head.

"Your imagination in awe-inspiring."

"The thing is, he's looking at me with those hatred-filled eyes because I am not your friend," he continued, ignoring the levity of his words. "He didn't give up on you because of me, and only imagining that there could be something between us makes his insides squirm."

He stopped his swaying, and you did as well as a result.

"Explain to me, then…" wise or not, you played his little game, "Why anyone would think there's anything between us."

"Because there are sparks between us, Granger." he answered smoothly. "You can smell it in the air. It's always been this way. There is tension between us, and he knows he has a rival in me. We are so dissimilar that we've transmuted our dislike into chemistry. We complement each other. And Potter knows that with just one slip, no matter how little, there will be no going back."

You swallowed thickly. Whatever you had been expecting to come out of his mouth, which had not been it.

"I know I've already said this, but you really do have an active imagination." you barely managed the reply. He grabs your hand, whisking you away for what seems like the millionth time, "Where are you taking me?"

You make your way through the crowd, out the packed room and up a flight of stairs that led to the second floor of the castle that the Parkinson family had rented for the occasion. You stop halfway up the stairs, just before a landing illuminated by the soft moonlight coming from the vast window above it. You suddenly found yourself pinned against the wall, and he was leaning against you. His silver eyes were so intense that you felt they were looking through you rather than at you. And you felt so very bare.

"What?" you barked, a product of panic.

"I want you to admit it."

"Admit what?"

"That what I just said made you curious, and that part of you is dying to see if there's a possibility that it might be true. Because in the end, you have a fear of not knowing, even when it comes to something like this."

He was being serious. Merlin's bloody beard, he was actually serious about it. And he couldn't even blame the alcohol for it, for Draco Malfoy had never looked more sober in this life. And that ruddy drink he had given you, which had seemed so innocuous at the time but now made your cheeks sting pink, gave you no choice but to admit he was right.

You hadn't felt this tension during your school years, since he had been too much of a prick for you to even look at him in a different light. But since you had become his guardian, you couldn't help but to feel the fluttering in your stomach whenever he spent hours chatting with you about different things, surprising you with how interesting and clever he could be.

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You should refocus before you do something stupid.

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"There's no point in admitting to anything, since I plan on doing nothing about it," you declared with what little willpower you had left. "I will die without sating my curiosity."

"What if I offered you the possibility of exploring that curiosity?" he asked gravely, closing the space between you even further. "Now, in this moment. Let's experiment."

His perfume was intoxicating, and you halted your mouth from advancing any further towards him, hands reaching out to rest on his abdomen. Funny. You had never noticed how fit he was before…

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Who were you kidding? Of course you'd noticed.

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Ever the cynic, he had once greeted you at the door without his shirt, only slipping it over his bare torso once you had stepped into his home, as if he wanted you to know what you were missing out on.

"Malfoy, I won't let you kiss me." you decreed, swallowing the bitter pill that was your own reasoning. "I'm with Ron. Don't confuse me with one of your tarts. I won't betray him."

His right eyebrow arched.

"Are you berating me? You exude jealousy, Granger."

You bit your lip at the slip up. You sounded jealous. You had heard the bitterness in your words, had felt it churning inside you whenever you had been forced to watch other women leave the residence during your visits.

"Very well. No kissing on the lips." he conceded while looking thoroughly resigned, but he did not lengthen the space between you. "On the neck, then?" the question was accompanied by a suggestive tilt of his head.

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He had you against a rock and a hard place, and you hated him for it.

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"It's still cheating." you said after a brief moment of doubt, "I'm not letting you do it."

"Come on, Granger. You're not negotiating with me," he all but pouted, even when he seemed amused with the situation. "You have to agree to something if you want this experiment to work."

Your orbs slowly traced his features. Little could be seen thanks to the shadows cast by the stairs, but the window at their side managed to cast just enough light for her to appreciate some details she had never before seen. For one, his face was absurdly symmetrical.

"You can hold my hands," you finally conceded.

"That, and a hug as well," was his counter offer, "Like the ones you used to give to Potter. If I'm competing against his memory, I'll need more than just a hand to hold."

"You're not letting this stupid thing go, are you?" you grumbled, interest slowly dwindling, "Fine. That and a hug."

"Good. Here we go."

He closed the gap until the was little room between the two of you, and then slowly, slowly, he intertwined his fingers with yours while you breathlessly watched the process happen. It was incredible how well his fingers fit with yours, and how safe and complete they made you feel.

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The sensation ran through your spine like a lightning bolt, and you shuddered as if you'd been electrocuted.

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"Everything okay?" he bent his head to mumble, lips brushing against your earlobe.

"Of course," you lied as you closed your eyes, "Nothing's happening."

Your chest rose and fell sporadically, since you forgot to breathe as his thumb brushed against the inside of your palms while he firmly held them, almost as if he was unwilling to let you go. Now that you thought about it, you would've never imagined that the hands of a spoiled rich brat who'd probably never been forced to do anything physically demanding in his life could be so masculine.

"And now I'll hug you." he announced, and you consented.

Draco Malfoy closed all distance between you, and he molded himself against you, and he did so in the most natural way possible. One hand came to rest on your back, while the other settled at your waist. You felt frozen by fear, and your heart did somersaults in your chest, only to drum against your ribcage as if you'd just run a marathon.

"Don't try to cheat," he demanded in a velvety voice that made your hormones flutter, "You have to wrap your hands around my neck."

You silently lifted your limbs to comply with his request, aware of the goosebumps that covered your body.

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Did it count as cheating on Ron if she hugged another man?

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Probably not. But feeling the way you felt did. Suffocated by the heat that curled in your belly and with the burning desire to never let him go.

He rested his chin on your left shoulder and you felt him sigh.

"Still okay?" he asked once more.

"I already said that nothing's happening." you lied again.

He stayed in that position for a few more seconds, and you held him tighter than you should've without realizing it. His scent was far more intoxicating to you than the alcohol that ran through your veins, or the golden hair that serendipitously tickled your cheek. It was strange. The hug made you hyper-aware of the contours of your own body, every inch of heated flesh you possessed, like you had never before experienced.

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And you wondered how far things would've escalated if you had allowed him to kiss you.

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"Perhaps I was mistaken, and the tension was only on my part," his lips quirked at the ends, and he pulled away until there was a sensible distance between you again, "Anyways. Goodbye, Granger. Say hi to the Weasel for me. See you on Monday."

Right. You were supposed to drop by on Monday for your monthly report.

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How were you supposed to look him in the eye without blushing after tonight?

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He ran a hand through his hair in order to slick any stray locks back into place, and you could tell he was doing his best to hide the playful quirk that threatened to spread across his lips. It was the mark of someone who knew that he had just done something decidedly naughty, and was simply waiting for his victim to become aware of the prank.

"Damn it," you mumbled to yourself as you watched him climb down the stairs and back to the party.

Because, in the heart-stopping moment where he'd paused to offer you the warmest smile you had ever witnessed him give before disappearing through the archway, you knew that this experiment had successfully proven his theory right.

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And that small slip, no matter how innocent, had been enough.

There was no going back.

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The End.

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AN: And? Any thoughts?

Thanks for reading!