LANAGUAGE OF LOVE

Chapter 1: Alohomora

Hermione Granger was very annoyed.

As in, annoyed in astronomical proportions. Incredibly so. And the reason for her annoyance? Why, it was thanks to that pure-blood ferret from the Slytherin House – Draco Malfoy.

Everyone in the House of Gryffindor, as well as pretty much those from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, could attest that that was nothing new. Draco Malfoy was far from being endearing to anyone, especially to those he called "Gryffin-dorks." He was arrogant, obnoxious, and a big bully to everyone who wasn't part of, or somehow affiliated with, the Slytherin House. But he was especially mean to muggle-borns, such as Hermione.

Now, what annoyed Hermione was not that he was bullying her. He wasn't being mean, exactly, or even teasing her, which was quite out of character for him. If that was the case, she's be somewhere along the line of furious and hurt (a deadly combination). Plus, the boy already knew that she wasn't afraid to hex him if he crossed the line, or, if need be, use her small, dainty fists to communicate her feelings. No, what annoyed Hermione wasn't his arrogance or meanness towards others. No, it wasn't what you'd expect from Draco Malfoy at all.

What annoyed Hermione Jean Granger, the brightest witch of her age, was his infuriating persistence to keep waving his wand at her, yelling out "Alohomora!" every time he saw her. Every. Single. Time.

It had been strange, at first. The proud, arrogant Malfoy who was always impeccably composed and dressed, with impeccable manners (to those he chose to show them to) and grades suddenly behaving like a fool? Never in a million years would she have imagined it (or maybe she did, when she daydreamed of hexing him so bad his wits would leave him). But behave, and look, like a fool he did. And he didn't even seem to care.

It had started out about two weeks ago. She had been innocently studying in the Hogwarts library, as she was predictably prone to do, when all of a sudden she hear the soft screech of a chair being pulled beside her. She hadn't thought much of it; her friends often came to find her here, patiently (sometimes) waiting for her to finish what she was doing before talking to her.

You can imagine her shock when, after a few minutes of silence and not looking up, she heard the chair being roughly flung back, causing the peaceful silence of the library to shatter, and making her look in its direction in alarm.

The last thing she ever expected to see was Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, standing where she had thought one of her friends was, the chair that had created such ruckus fallen behind him, looking at her with mirth and mischievousness in his silver eyes.

Before she could utter a word, he had his wand right up to her nose and shouted "Alohomora!" before racing out of the library at full speed.

Saying that she had been confused and astounded was an understatement.

After that incident at the library, Malfoy continued to repeat his little trick at least once a day up to date. At first it had been confusing. What was the point of his actions? It seems that he only targeted her, as if expecting something specific out of her, since he only did it when she was alone. But when she refused to play his little game, refused to let him get a rise out of her and ignored him, he upped his game.

He started playing his little stunts in front of the whole. Damn. School.

Harry and Ron were the first to witness the event. She had told them about it after the first time, but they had been skeptical, and understandably so. But when they had just returned from visiting Hagrid in one of their little escapades, wanting nothing but to take a hot bath and go to sleep, they all almost had a heart attack when Malfoy suddenly swooped down on them on his broom, pointed his wand at Hermione and yelling "Alohomora!" before soaring back into the black sky and disappearing from view.

As baffled as they were, Harry and Ron resolved to be with her every minute of the day until the matter was resolved. To say that they were slightly disturbed with their sworn enemy's behaviour was putting it mildly, and they were suspicious of his true motives. So they stuck to her like glue.

Although she appreciated the gesture, this only served to further annoy her. She did rather enjoy having some alone time. And Malfoy, with his stupid antics, took that away from her. Which only made her all the more annoyed with him.

And on the days passed, and Malfoy had yet to miss a day that he didn't wave his wand at her and say the dreaded charm: "Alohomora!" It was the talk of the school. Hermione had even caught the professors, even the Headmaster, talking about it. It was quite infuriating. She wondered what she ever did to deserve this. She could take insults, but this… she wasn't sure what to make of this. And so, she didn't know the appropriate response to it.

After nearly suffocating from her over-protective friends and the gossip, and feeling like she was about to explode from all her pent-up anger and annoyance, Hermione slipped away from the school, skipping classes (which was a taboo for her), and went to lay down by a tree in the gardens. She needed to relax, and being in that bustling, prying environment was doing nothing to help her.

She mauled over Malfoy's odd behaviour. What could have brought it about? Sure, he wasn't discriminating against her like he used to, his taunts had all but ceased altogether, and he was actually stopping the other Slytherins from behaving badly towards her. What was going on? She just couldn't make sense of any of it.

Just when she was about to doze off, her mind tired from over-thinking, none other than he showed up. Draco Malfoy.

"What are you doing out here, Granger?"

"What are you doing out here, Malfoy?" she asked back, not even glancing his way. She just didn't have the energy to deal with him.

"I asked first."

"I asked second."

"Stop being a smart-aleck."

"But I am smart, though my name isn't Aleck."

Silence.

"Where did all this sassiness come from?" he asked, and she could hear him coming closer.

"I don't know. I don't care. I could always have had it, for all I care."

"Touchy."

"Do not test me, Malfoy," she growled, finally opening her eyes to send a glare his way. "I'm not in the mood."

Draco ignored her hostile look as he came closer and sat beside her, a couple feet away from where she was laying.

"I'm not testing you," he said.

"Really? Because it sure seems like it." He scoffed.

"I should say that you are testing me, Granger."

Now it was her turn to scoff. "Oh, please indulge me – how have I been testing you when you are the one acting ludicrously? How is that not testing my patience?"

"First of all, I wasn't acting ludicrously," he said indignantly. "Second of all, my patience is the one being tested, not yours."

"Explain."

He sighed, a frustrated, long sigh that was so unlike his composed, regal self that she forgot her anger momentarily and focused on him.

He looked at her, his hand running his platinum-blond hair out of its meticulously slicked-back style. "Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to, as you say, ' act ludicrously,' for over two weeks, just for you, and get ignored?"

"I'm not following."

He sighed again, running his hands over his face. "I thought you were supposed to be the brightest witch of our age."

"I am!" she sniffed indignantly. How dare he!

"Then think, for the love of Merlin. What have I been doing?"

She scrunched up her nose. "Pretending to cast a charm on me, on the most inopportune of times."

He ignored the second half of her answer. "And what charm is that?"

"Alohomora. It's a charm for opening locked objects." He looked at her expectantly. "So?" His face fell.

"You really don't get it? Not even a little bit?"

"Malfoy –" she started, but he cut her off.

"Draco."

"I beg your pardon?"

"My name is Draco, not Malfoy. Malfoy is my father."

"You're a Malfoy as well."

"Yes, but it makes me feel old." She rolled her eyes at his childish answer before continuing where she'd left off before he interrupted her.

"Okay, Draco, as I was saying: those kinds of charms don't work on people, or on living beings. They only work on inanimate objects. You should know this."

"Of course I do! I'm not a fool, despite what you may be thinking."

"I know you're not a fool, so be quiet already. You're giving me a headache with all this yelling."

"Oh. Sorry."

There was an awkward silence as Draco looked at the grass between them and Hermione realized that he had just apologized to her. Draco Malfoy didn't apologize to anyone. Ever.

"But think of the symbolism," he broke the silence.

"Symbolism?"

"Yes. You know, what does using the Alohomora charm on a person signify?"

She wasn't sure what to make of him or the situation they were in, but decided to play along. "Well, since the charm is for opening locked objects, using them on a person would symbolically suggest that whoever is casting the charm is trying to get the other person to open something about themselves." He nodded.

"That's right. You're exactly right."

"Then why are you using them on me?"

"You have closed off a part of you. I want you to open it."

"What part of me is closed? I'm a very open person!" she argued, intrigued and suspicious of his motives.

"Not all of you is open."

"Oh yeah? What part of me is closed, Mr. All-knowing?"

She wasn't expecting what he did next.

He raised his hands and, with his index finger, pointed to her chest, right where her heart was, his finger just centimetres from her clothes. "Your heart is closed, Hermione. I want you to open your heart to me." He raised his silver eyes, so honest and open, to meet hers, and she wasn't prepared for him, his words, his sincerity. She blushed, swatting his hand away with less force than she would've if the situation was any different. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a pointed look.

"Why do you care about that so much? What's in it for you?" she questioned him.

He didn't answer her, merely took out a red rose with the thorns cut off from the sleeve of his robe. He looked at it wistfully for a moment before he handed it to her, and she, too shocked to do anything else, accepted it, her body moving on its own before she could process what was going on.

Before she could pull her hand back, he held it in both of his own, her hand dwarfed by his two larger ones. Then, he leaned in closer to her and whispered, "A chance." Then he disappeared.

Hermione sat there, dumbfounded. Did that really happen? The rose in her hand, carefully trimmed of any thorns, seemed to say so. She gently fingered the fragile petals, and thought about Draco, who had called her by her name, and his odd yet very romantic behavior.

She smiled. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't all she thought him to be. "Alohomora, indeed."

Here's my first Dramione one-shot. I hope you enjoyed, and if you did, please leave a review. Thanks for reading!

P.S.

Don't expect super fast updates. I'll do my best, though!