Week 6

The final week of their 'collaboration' had arrived and Draco was feeling… discombobulated. They seemed to have agreed to tacitly ignore the kiss - Granger had made a self-deprecating comment on Monday before Potions - something about 'their admirable commitment to method acting' and he had laughed, which seemed to be a signal to her that they could forget it ever happened.

Not that he was necessarily on-board with that plan. He found the scene replaying in his mind rather a lot and imagined it would feature in wank fantasies for years to come. But he had taken her lead in public. And taken it as a sign that she really didn't want to explore anything with him beyond winning the bet. For her it had obviously been a moment of weakness, rather than the start of something.

Draco had to admit he found that thought fucking depressing, so, out of a sense of self-preservation, he tried to avoid her most of the week - rushing off after class, spending a lot of time on the pitch and generally holing up in his room. Creating distance was good. After all, post-Saturday night, they'd have no reason to socialize at all.

By Friday she had seemed to notice, because she was throwing him frowns and worried looks and then actually ran him to ground after Ancient Runes and demanded with a significant glare that he meet her in the library later to 'go over their Potions project'.

He hadn't seen any way to get out of it, so he'd said ok and turned his reluctant steps toward her usual study table, strongly reminded of that first night when he'd overheard her complaining to the Weaselette.

This time she was alone, bathed in the soft light of a reading lamp, holding something and staring into space.

"Cheerio, Granger." Draco slid into a seat down the table from her.

She started out of her reverie and squinted at him. "You know it's been six weeks and you still haven't called me Hermione once."

He lifted his brows, "sorry?"

"No, it's ok." Her eyes rested on him for a bit and then her attention drifted back to her hand. It looked like she was holding a letter, and, judging by the haphazard handwriting, general sloppiness and surfeit of ink blots, Draco was fairly certain it was from the Weasel.

She looked back up at him and he nodded toward it.

"It's from Ron," she said with a sigh. Aha. He kept his gaze steady - he was by no means going to pry anything Weasel-related out of her. "I wrote him," she continued. "After the Howler. You can imagine what I said," she gave a half laugh and Draco nodded. She might not have written a Howler back, but he was sure her letter practically had scorch marks on it anyway.

"I figured that might be the end," she mused, "of our friendship - our 'relationship', such as it was. I told him some rather hard truths." She grimaced and Draco snorted. He bet she fucking did.

Her eyes flicked up to him. "But he's surprised me. Apparently he took everything I said to heart. He's apologized. Promised to change. No more slags, no more messing around. He only wants me. He says he's coming here tomorrow to talk in person about it. To 'make his case'." A little crease appeared between her brows.

Draco felt a cold rushing sensation. There was a curious buzzing between his ears that made his own voice sound far away when he said, "well congratulations, Granger. That's exactly what you wanted, isn't it?"

She looked sharply at him then away. "I don't know. I guess I always thought I'd be with him. Once he worked through all his distractions. But I..."

"If he's coming up tomorrow," Draco interrupted, having to actively unclench his jaw to speak, "will we still be going to the ball together?"

"Of course!" Her eyes flashed, "Ronald's schedule does not dictate my plans."

"Good to hear it. It would be a shame to quit after we've come this far." He stood up and shoved out his chair. He suddenly needed to get out of there.

"Draco?" she was getting up too, but he was already walking.

"I'll see you tomorrow at the portrait hole. Six o'clock," he tossed over his shoulder, not waiting for her reply.

~oOo~

Formal robes swirling around his ankles, Draco made his way up the steps toward Gryffindor Tower. The appointed hour had arrived - finally - after a fucking long night and day of moping, during which drinking, flying and even fucking with Theo over the bet he was soon to lose had failed to distract him from thoughts of Granger's reunion with her ginger prat.

He just wanted this night to be over so he could get on with his miserable life, continue the extended ass-fuck that was 8th year.

Forget that there had ever been a bright spot in it.

He rounded the corridor to the portrait hole, frowning mightily … and stopped in his tracks, momentarily stunned.

Standing in profile was Granger, looking more ethereal and lovely than he'd ever seen her - or any witch - look. She was in a long gown of dull gold, her upper arms wrapped with a few slender cords that were spangled with golden stars and hung and drifted behind her. Her hair was up, but a few curls escaped down her elegant neck. She was glowing, the 'golden girl' personified. Even her magic seemed to crackle around her in a sparkling haze.

Draco tried to find his voice, because she hadn't noticed him yet, when the portrait hole opened and the fucking Weasel suddenly popped his head through.

"Blimey, Hermione, you look incredible," he gawped as his lanky frame fully emerged. Of Draco's two warring instincts, the one to melt into the shadows won out over the one to rush up and plant a facer on the red-headed arse.

"Ron, what are you doing here!?" Granger was irritated. "I told you I was going to the ball at seven."

"With him?" Disdain fairly dripped from the Weasel's tongue.

Yes with ME, you fucker! Draco felt like shouting.

"Yes, And I don't want you hanging around causing conflict. He'll be here any minute. He's late in fact." Granger frowned at a delicate muggle watch on her wrist.

"Why, Hermione? I mean, how could you?"

"We've been over this, Ronald. I have my reasons and they're none of your damned business."

"I just don't see what possible explanation there could be."

"Well you're not required to, are you? I'm certainly not accountable to you. And I said we would talk later. I'm busy now."

"Later tonight?" The Weasel was really pleading - worthless git - and Granger hesitated, her posture tense. "Please, Hermione. This is really important. It's why I rushed up here."

"You never asked me if this was a good time to come! But, all right. Fine. The ball ends at 10. I'll talk to you after that!" she said - a little desperately. "Now, LEAVE." She put her hands on the Weasel's back and pushed him at the portrait. He gave her a last look and then climbed back through.

Draco waited until he was fully gone before taking a deep breath and striding toward her as if he hadn't a care in the world.

She heard his footsteps and whirled to face him, the dress drifting in a cloud around her. For a second, Draco thought her eyes lit. But then he told himself to stop being stupid. Hadn't she just arranged to meet her boyfriend later tonight? But Merlin, she was breathtaking. He couldn't stop himself walking to within inches of her, taking her hand and kissing it.

"So beautiful."

Shite, had he said that out loud? He guessed he had because a huge smile bloomed over her face and she blushed.

"Thank you." Her smile turned coquettish, "you're looking rather dazzling yourself."

He couldn't help but grin back at her, like the idiot he was.

But fuck it, this was their last night together. He might as well enjoy it. Give her something to think about before she settled for the Weasel. Just savor her company - even if it would be bittersweet.

On that highly uplifting thought, he gave her his arm and a raised brow, "ready to go win a bet?"

She looked at him for a beat then gave a funny little sigh. "Yes."

~oOo~

It was a mark of how much he enjoyed Granger that Draco was actually having a somewhat decent time at the dance. He usually hated these affairs. Probably because he'd been forced to take ballroom dancing lessons practically since infancy and had always loathed it. Plus the stuffy, cloying atmosphere and lack of booze. He much preferred the after-parties.

But with her it was tolerable. In fact, it had been rather entertaining teaching her a few of the more obscure formal dances, which she'd pronounced 'archaic and odd'. And then she'd got him up to a few of the faster muggle songs, which had been... stimulating. Who knew girls like Granger would let you put your hands and even your cock on them like that - just in public?

Seeing Theo mope around all night was mildly amusing too. He was obviously fucked off over the fact that he'd lost his World Cup box and was watching Draco and Granger like a hawk to see if he was also going to lose 5k. Even the Weaselette's efforts on the dancefloor couldn't distract him totally. He knew a lost cause when he saw one. Draco stifled a sigh - they'd certainly done a thorough job.

Taking a break from the dancing, they made their way to the back of the room and stood together against the wall, watching the crowd. She noticed him looking at Theo and leaned over with a wicked grin, "he doesn't look so hot, does he?"

"No, he does not," Draco couldn't prevent a snort.

She giggled. "You know, despite our victim's discomfort, this whole thing has been a laugh."

He looked at her and nodded. "It has." A laugh. . One could describe it that way. One could also describe it as a prolonged erotic toture followed by a sharp dose of heartache. But who was he to split hairs?

"I mean, I definitely didn't expect it to be," she mused, watching the crowd. "I didn't expect you at all," her dark gaze rested back on him.

He felt his face warm at her words and he started to speak - he knew exactly what she meant - but at that moment Zabini suddenly appeared and offered to show them the way to a secret stash of spiked punch. Granger grabbed Draco's hand and towed him away after Blaise, who led them to a group of rowdy 8th years. Then they'd been pulled into the crowd and promptly gotten separated. Draco found the high spirits didn't quite match his shitty mood, so he'd removed himself after a while and found a quiet spot in which to brood.

And now the evening was winding down. The poncy string band had packed up and the muggle-style DJ had slowed the tempo. Granger had been last seen making her way off to the loo with her Ravenclaw study aid friend. Draco blew out a breath. What was she going to say to the Weasel later? Would he have to watch them paw all over each other tomorrow in the great hall? No he wouldn't because he'd avoid it like the fucking plague…

Suddenly a soft tap on his shoulder. He looked around and there she was. So fucking pretty.

"Would you like to dance?" her half smile was soft.

"Is it time?" She nodded and he took her hand, letting her lead him to the floor. One song ended and another began as they reached the centre. The new one was slow, sultry and he pulled her against him. She smelled fucking incredible. For about the millionth time that night he wished they were really there together.

"Did you wear perfume tonight?" he asked.

"Mmm hmm," she looked up at him and slid her arms up over his shoulders, which pressed the full length of her body against him. Merlin, but muggle dancing was intimate. "It's gardenia. My favourite flower."

He leaned down to her neck, making eye contact with her as he inhaled deeply. "Lovely." They were pressed so close he could actually feel her breath speed up. She wasn't totally immune.

He pulled his head back and gazed at her. "You know," she said smiling up at him, "we never actually made it to the astronomy tower."

He laughed softly, "Part 4, Section 2, Subhead d of your plan? I'm shocked you allowed us to deviate."

She wrinkled her nose and put her tongue out at him, "well, we didn't need it, did we?"

"No, we didn't" Shite, that had come out a lot more seriously than he'd intended.

Suddenly her face went very still and he felt her fingers drift into the hair at his nape in the now familiar, but no less devastating, way. He supposed this was the point at which he should kiss her, lock in the bet and walk away. He could even see Theo out of the corner of his eye - watching them as they swayed.

Something made him hesitate, though - so when she went up on her tip-toes and pulled his neck down he was stupidly surprised. But he recovered quickly. Their lips met and it was as if all the passion, the pent up desire of weeks, flowed between them. They stopped dancing altogether and her hands went from his hair to his face, which she cradled as he pulled her even tighter against him. If they'd been alone, he would have raked into her hair and kissed down her neck to her gorgeous collarbone, pulled down the neckline of her dress and...

But they weren't alone, so he drew back softly, and with several sweet, smaller kisses, because he found it extremely difficult to come to terms with the fact that this was the last time he would feel her, taste her.

Was there something stricken in her eyes too? He'd never know, because just then a rough hand grabbed him and spun him around.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Draco bit out, ice flooding his veins as he saw who it was. "Never FUCKING TOUCH ME."

"What the fuck are YOU doing!?" the Weasel snarled, his face contorted with rage

"RON." Granger's tone was low, but absolutely furious. "I told you I would meet you later. You have no right to come here and…"

"It is later, Hermione - it's after 10. I waited but you didn't show, so I came to find you. And I find you dancing with… kissing this, this..."

Draco felt his fingers curl. He was just dying to smash his fist into… But no. He wouldn't do that to Granger. He turned his back on the fucking git and looked at her.

"Do you need to go?"

Her eyes darted from him to the waste of space standing behind him. "I. I said that I would," her voice was soft. Suddenly her eyes narrowed and she focused behind him. "Ronald, please go wait over there."

The Weasel didn't move, but her glare turned ferocious. Finally, he grumbled and went.

"All right then." Draco actually felt his face shutter.

"Please," she put out her hand. "Don't go yet. Wait for me? I don't want to leave it like this."

So she wanted to smooth things over? Maybe she wanted them to be friends. How fucking sweet. Draco felt like throwing up. But then his stupid mouth said ok. So she'd squeezed his hand and left, hurrying over to the Weasel and leading him out the door. The look the red-headed arsehole gave Draco as they left was a sore trial to his self control and fortitude.

He suddenly realized that a) a lot of people were staring at him and b) Theo, Blaise and the other 8th years were nowhere to be seen, so he left the ballroom and found a window seat in an alcove in the hallway where he could see the door. He waited there for a while, staring out through the darkened panes of glass, head tilted back against the cool stone of the wall. A steady stream of people trickled out and eventually he heard the DJ announce the last song of the night. It occurred to him that she probably wasn't coming back.

All of a sudden he felt like a total arse, sitting there and waiting - for what? For her to come and tell him it had been fun and oh by the way I have to run back because my git of a boyfriend is waiting for me?

He was being pathetic.

Jumping down from the alcove, he strode off with the vague thought that he might head back to his rooms. But then he remembered the inevitable post-ball party that he wanted no part of. He could also do without a pouting Theo. Or any questions about what had happened on the dance floor. He wanted to go be wounded where no one could see him.

He snorted a soft, mirthless laugh - and he knew the perfect place.

A few minutes later he ascended the last stairs to the astronomy tower, which was mercifully deserted. No one having a cheeky after-party or makeout session, thank gods. He moved to the balustrade and leaned out, taking in the clear sky over the moonlit castle grounds. It was cold as fuck. He pulled his robes around him and sighed, images of the last six weeks crowding his brain.

Granger laughing, Granger wiggling on his lap. Her smile when she turned around to show him his name on her jersey. Her face when she declared that they would not be entering the tea room. Her voice when she called him an unmitigated arse during their prison debate. Her lips on his. Her touch on his skin...

Fuck, he was really good at this pathetic git role.

Just then he heard movement behind him. His shoulders tensed. Great. Fucking company. That would be his cue to exit.

"I thought I'd find you here."

He whirled. And there she was. He blinked several times - was he hallucinating? What had been in that fucking punch? But no, she was there, looking at him expectantly. He realized he needed to say something.

"Yeah, when you didn't come back, I left. The dance was over anyway."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to take that long. Ron can be very stubborn." What the fuck did that mean?

A brief smile flitted over her features. She tilted her head, "why are you here?"

Because I lost my head over you like a complete wanker but I know you don't care about me so I'm up here feeling sorry for myself.

"Couldn't face the thought of Theo in full drama queen mode. He's going to be a right dick for a few days." He tried for a half-smile, but wasn't quite sure he achieved it.

She was strangely quiet, her face watchful. For some reason this unnerved him, so he rambled like an idiot.

"Well, I guess we both met our goals, eh? Me attending the World Cup in style. You bringing the Weasel to heel. I'll give you your half of our winnings as soon as Theo gives them to me. Although," he looked away and snorted a laugh, "part of me feels a bit bad about conning him." He cut his eyes to her. "If you weren't owed your part, I'd probably just tell him he'd been played. It would be rather satisfying on its own."

As he was talking she had been moving closer. Did her face look a little fearful? She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, then opened them. What the fuck was going on?

She let out her breath and said in a rush, "what if he hasn't been played?"

Draco felt himself freeze. He could hear every night sound and see the dust motes dancing in the moonlight around them. He stared at her, "what do you mean?"

She stepped closer. "What was the crux of the bet?"

He just looked at her, blinking.

"It was to make me fall for you, wasn't it?" she continued. She looked really fucking nervous.

Wait...

Slow realization began to dawn and he felt something break through his deep freeze. A trickle of something warm and … delighted. He took a step toward her.

"Really?" he said, feeling his lips lift - quite of their own volition.

"Really." Her face seemed to brighten as she looked at his.

"But what about the Weasel?"

"I told him we're through. For good. That's why it took so long. I had to convince him that I didn't want him. That I'd fallen for somebody else."

His grin grew alarmingly large. He stepped into her and slid his arms around her waist. "And does this mean I get to kiss you in private?"

She reached up and brushed his hair off of his forehead. "If you want to."

"Oh I fucking want to," he whispered, crushing her against him and lowering his head to her lips.

She met him with equal hunger, pressing into him and twining her tongue with his. Her hands were up around his neck, in his hair, her thumbs stroking his jaw. His hands swept up the gorgeous curve of her back and into the hair at her nape. He held her head as he explored every bit of her luscious mouth. After a bit she began to make the most delicious little sighs and moans and he felt himself go to another place - where he didn't, couldn't think. He could only feel, taste, smell. He backed her against the wall and began to explore ways to get into her clothes, to touch more of her, she was so fucking soft - her skin like satin.

That thought put another in his mind and he murmured against her lips, "you know we actually do forfeit the wager."

"Do we? How?" she had moved away from his lips and was placing soft kisses on his jawline, so it took him a moment to respond.

"We never actually consummated. That was a condition - mmm - too." She had nipped him and it was so searingly hot… Gods, and now his thoughts were on consummation.

"When were we supposed to do it by?" her breathy voice broke with desire as he turned the tables and trailed kisses down her lovely neck.

"Tonight." He was doing what he'd wanted to do before, pulling down her bodice and sweeping his tongue over the soft skin there.

She shifted her arm behind him. "We still have 25 minutes."

"Hmm?" What was she on about?

"Until midnight."

All of a sudden he was highly alert. He pulled back and looked at her. She was smiling wickedly at him.

"Think you can do it in 25 minutes? Well, 20 since it will take us five to get to your rooms."

"YES."

His response may have been a tiny bit eager.

He grabbed her hand and started towing her towards the stairs. "But I don't want this to reflect on my usual abilities," he fixed her with a stern glare as she started laughing. "I'm just taking one for the team. For the bet."

She bit her lip and raised her eyebrows, "mmm hmm, sure."

"Also I have been in an extended state of sexual arousal for six weeks, so I'm a little wound up."

"And I'm not? I've been subjected to the same! And the only time I broke was when you were flaunting your smile and your bare pectorals in my face."

He laughed, then stopped for a brief moment to pull her into another heated kiss. "You know, I absolutely adore you," he said when they broke apart.

"And I, you. I'm so glad you feel the same." Her smile was brilliant.

He stared stupidly at her until he remembered what they were on their way to do and started leading them very quickly down the stairs.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?" His mind was on their destination.

"Since we'll, uh, be finishing quickly, could I request a practical demonstration from your lecture the other week?" she asked with faux innocence, her eyes snapping with amusement.

He stopped and laughed out loud. "Absolutely," he promised.

~FIN~