Chapter Text
In retrospect, there was really no one else to blame then Prof. Vector herself. If she hadn’t assigned Granger as his partner for that bloody stupid Arithmancy project, his year would’ve ended up just fine.
The school was flooded with gorgeous witches from the continent: sweet and delicate French ones from Beauxbatons or the fierce and hot ones from Durmstrang. There were even the usual fit girls from Hogwarts itself (Vicky Frobisher did come back with wonderfully long and thick legs after summer).
But, no. Draco Malfoy had to go and become infatuated with Hermione Bloody Granger of all people.
Bloody perfect.
It all began one Tuesday, when they were busy doing their calculations, and Draco pushed her ink pot over the table, just because. Hermione puffed at him, making one of her curls jump with the air that came from her plump little mouth. Then, she pushed her chair back and got to her knees to grab the pot.
She could’ve at least summoned it. But no, the mudblood needed to do it the muggle way. And, as she bent her back and got her white shirt rising over the waistline of her skirt, Draco started wondering more and more about the Muggle way things were done.
The witch was wearing bloody pink lacy knickers.
Draco hadn’t blushed that hard since the time his mother caught him wanking on his bed one summer morning before third year. Narcissa started asking the elves to wake him up after that.
Hermione Granger, the swotty know-it-all all, wore wanton underwear.
Who could’ve thought?
Draco couldn’t keep himself from picturing it (and others like it) underneath her school skirt every single time he caught her walking after that Tuesday.
That’s when he realised that she didn’t walk; she sashayed her wide hips around.
The worst part was that he could almost swear she didn’t do it on purpose. She was just built that way. Hermione Granger was just built with that curvy, delicious body and those big brown eyes and that neck full of freckles he wanted to kiss one by one…
“Oi! Mate!” Zabini pushed his shoulder. “Are you even listening?”
“Huh?” Draco shook his head, snapping out of Granger’s daze. ”No. Sorry, mate. What is it?”
“I was saying,” he continued, with his arrogant tone, “that some gryffindors are looking hot as hell this year.”
“Shouldn’t we be focusing on the foreign girls who we’ll only have access to this year?” Theo chuckled. “Besides, I thought you said you’d only date slytherins and ravenclaws, Blaise…”
“That"—Blaise smirked—“was before Ginevra Weasley got her breasts.”
“Well, she’s the only salvageable Gryffindor for all I know.” Draco snorted.
“Really?” Theo wiggled his eyebrows, a disgusting playful tone that meant no good. “Is that why you were ogling Granger during Transfiguration this morning?”
“Granger? The muggle-born Granger?!” Blaised turned incredulous to Draco.
“Pfff,” Draco said, panicking. Had he been that obvious? “She’s tolerable, but not pretty enough for me.”
He had to be more careful after that and, as they entered the Great Hall for lunch, he did his best not to look for her bushy hair in the Gryffindor Table.
His effort failed, but it wasn’t like it mattered because Granger wasn’t there. In fact, she entered the room only a few minutes after they sat with Slytherin.
Thankfully for Draco, however, neither Blaise nor Theo was in his Arithmancy class. So, he decided he would put his time there to good use.
“Granger,” he greeted, cordially, when he arrived at the table they were sharing the following week.
“Yes, Malfoy?” she asked, coldly.
“So… Do you like.. Er… Numbers?” he cursed himself for his lack of subjects for conversation. He would need to make a proper list before their next encounter, so he wouldn’t end up humiliating himself further.
“Yes,” she answered bitterly, pointing her quill at him like a knife of sorts. She looked rather maniac, her mane of curls wild and her eyes narrowing at him. “I find them quite tolerable , don’t you?"
What?
Had she heard?
Did she hate him now?
“Grmgph,” was the only answer she got, because Draco kept to his calculations for the rest of the two hours they spent together.
Her hair smelled like mango.
That wasn’t normal, right? Must have been her shampoo or something. Because people didn’t just smell like mangos. Then again, Hermione Granger wasn’t people , she was so unique. The way she bit her lip while trying to solve a problem, the way she giggled with eyes closed at something those tossers she called friends said at breakfast, the way she would roll her shoulders and expose her neck to stretch a stiff back after hours of reading in the library. And the mango scent suited her just fine, because she was sweet, warm and ripe and he was crazy to just take a bite…
“Malfoy?!”
Draco jumped from his seat at the library. Standing at his side, in all her glory, was Hermione Granger. And she looked so cute when she was pissed off, hands on her hips and tapping her tiny foot impatiently…
Wait, what was she waiting for?
Ah, of course. An answer from him.
“Yeah?” He hated how his voice broke in a high-pitched tone at the end.
“You have the only available copy of the Runic Syllabus by Bordwick Gilgeron, I was asking if you’re done with it so I can borrow.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
Draco looked, with his lips stupidly parted, between Hermione’s chocolate gaze and the book underneath his hands. Had he drooled on them while daydreaming with her? Would she notice?
To be honest, Draco was nowhere near finished with his Ancient Runes homework. But he’d be damned before denying Granger something.
Unless…
He had half a mind to ask what she was willing to give him in return for it.
Or maybe hold it up so she could stand on tiptoes, wriggling her body against his trying to catch it. Maybe he could steal a kiss from her that way.
Would she kiss him back?
“Malfoy?” she asked again.
“Huh, er, hm...” He cleared his throat. “Sure, I was just having a hard time trying to—”
He tried to come up with something, something to say and sound irresistible and smart.
“Oh, you’re having trouble with your translations? Here, let me help you…” The shift in her tone was aghasting. She was sweeter, even motherly now. No, not motherly. He didn’t want to picture Granger as motherly.
Turns out that she was not only helpful with academic things but also with that particular task.
Because Narcissa Malfoy would die before she bent over a desk like Granger did. Draco had to quickly look back to make sure there was no one there to see the amount of creamy skin she had exposed underneath her skirt with that move. Fortunately there was only a bookshelf behind them. Unfortunately, the angle didn’t allow him to get much of a view of her rear back either. Granger snatched his quill and began babbling while writing lots of things on his parchment, but Draco’s senses had been washed up by her tropical scent as the side of her (very generous, by the way) breasts touched his shoulders.
Draco shivered.
She would be the death of him. She really would. His headstone would read:
Here lies Draco Lucius Malfoy, killed by saucy Hermione Granger and her muggle-hot body.
“Y-you can have the syllabus” he mumbled before stumbling out of the library as far as he could.
After getting himself off in the shower, Draco made up his mind to stay as far away as possible from Granger. She was too hot for their own good and it would be impossible to stick up to his family and house’s principles of blood purity with a muggle-born like her. In fact, purity conquers all but he wanted to do some dirty things with Hermione Granger.
He wasn’t thinking of any of them during that Saturday's visit to Hogsmead. Theo had been telling them a story about… Oh, to be honest he wasn’t listening. He was staring at Granger’s arse in those tight, tight muggle jeans she wore.
Frankly, it baffled Draco that those things were legal. No other student in school wore them, even if they avoided witches’ robes during their outings, they’d usually stick to skirts and tailored trousers. Thank Merlin for that. He could see everything in them. The curve, the fullness and even the place where her sides met at the apex of her legs. And they seemed vacuum packed around her thighs.
Something burned inside his chest.
If he got that view from her jeans… He wasn’t the only one; anyone could see everything.
What the hell was she thinking? Flaunting her womanly figure like that?
Draco fisted his hands at his side and fought the urge to say something nasty to her. The blood was pounding in his ears, but he made an effort to try and listen to whatever she was saying to the fiery haired Weaselette at her side.
“... You need to let him go a bit, Ginny!”
“But how, Mione? He’s everything I think of! And now he can possibly die during the tournament—”
Oh, great. They were talking about Saint Potter. Potter can kiss his ass, for all Draco cares. In fact, the highlight of that year so far had been the badges he had made for “Potter stinks”, because - even if Draco wasn’t the biggest Hufflepuff supporter - he hated how rules were bent so that Potter could star every single freaking year at that school.
“... But with that crush, you aren’t even able to talk in front of him! He’ll never notice you like that! Just try and be with other people—”
“Alright, I guess. Who do you think I shou—”
“Well, I for one, usually search for guys with brains and—”
Draco was smart.
“ — chivalrous—”
Draco was a gentleman.
“ — and obviously romantic! Not that any boys our age are like that, right?”
Romantic, huh? Draco would sweep Granger off ofr freaking feet with his romance. She just needed to wait and see.
“Oi, Blaise!” Draco turned to interrupt his and Theo’s discussion. “What about we catch some candies?” He nodded towards the duo giggling their way into Honeydukes.
Blaise raised one eyebrow and a smirk grew in his lips. “Gotta seize the opportunity of them away from Potty and Weasel, huh?”
Draco shrugged, but Theo shook his head. “Wait, there are only two of them. Am I supposed to sit and watch?”
“You’re big enough to catch your own fish, come on!” Draco chuckled, picking up the pace.
As the trio entered the crammed store, it was quite easy to spot their lionesses with both their fiery and bushy hairs.
“Ginevra,” Blaise approached them with a smooth tone. He was, by far, the best flirt of the trio, having a black widow as a mother and not a death eater apparently made you better with women. “You look absolutely delicious today,”
The young Weaselette bit her lip, shyly, looking back at Granger who sighed and nodded as if saying “Not my first choice, but he’ll have to do”.
“Hi,” Weasley whipped her long fie,ry hair back, making the scene of tucking a strand of it behind her ear as she smiled. Wow, she was really good at this flirty thing too, she’d be perfect for Blaise. “Zabini, right?”
“Yes, but do call me Blaise, please…” He flashed her a gallant smile.
“Well, then you must call me Ginny”
“What about ‘sweetie’? You sure look the part.’
That earned a few giggles from Weasley, but Granger was rolling her eyes when Draco looked at her. He made the mental note not to call her sweet.
“Really, allow me to pay for your order today, so you can have as many candies as a sweet like you deserve.”
Glancing back at Granger once again for confirmation, Ginny nodded biting her lower lip and proceeded to fill her basket with several candies as Blaise guided her and added a few more of everything she gingerly picked.
“Granger.” Malfoy greeted, rather stiffly, his hands in his pocket.
“Malfoy” she said, crossing her arms and raising one eyebrow.
Okay, that’s your chance. Big breath in. Big breath out.
“Allow me to pay for your candies—”
“No, thanks. My parents are dentists, so I am not interested in getting cavities”
Draco had no idea of what dentists were or what kind of cavities one could get from candies, but he quickly tried to follow Blaise’s lead and say something cheeky, witty and romantic…
“Well, I’m sure they’d help you be less sour—”
He realised it was the wrong thing just as the words left his mouth towards her ears.
“Oh! So I am sour?” she shrieked. “Sod off, Malfoy!”
She pushed his shoulder to stomp towards Ginny and Blaise.
“Wow, that was smooth, Dray,” Theo snorted at his side. “Thank Salazar for your family vaults, you’ll need them if you ever plan on getting laid”
Draco didn’t answer, instead clenching his hand around the spot she had touched him. It felt like it was tingling.
For the rest of the weekend, Granger’s touch was engraved in his skin.
He couldn’t remember another girl ever getting so physical with him. Not even Pansy did, and they had snogged a lot the previous year. But she would only kiss him and allow him to touch her. She wouldn’t put her hands on his body abseabsent-mindedlyth or without good intentions. If you wanted to harm someone, you could use your wand, if you needed to fix a tie or smooth a wrinkled shirt, there would be a spell for that. That wasn’t their way of doing, English pureblood families were cold and detached. People didn’t kiss each other on the cheeks as a salutation as the French did. They were rather fond of their personal spaces and quite respectful of others’.
In fact, coming to think of it, Granger was the one who had most touched him. Merlin, she even slapped his face a few months prior.
Was that also a Muggle thing? Being so physical, so warm, so feisty?
Would she be like that if he kissed her? Would she scratch his nape with her nails, pulling him closer, biting his earlobe and licking his…
“Damn it!” Draco heard Goyle grunt as their glass of frog eyes shattered on the floor.
He rolled his eyes. How the hell had he agreed to partner with Goyle of all people? Theo and Blaise were together, Pansy decided to sit with her new girlfriend, Daphne, and Draco ended up with freaking Goyle. He supposed it was better than Crabbe, who had already melted seven cauldrons and was currently forbidden by Prof. Snape from doing any practical tasks.
“Alright,” Draco drawled. “I’ll go fetch some more at the store.”
And obviously, he would end up meeting her at the dimly lit small room. Draco was just that ucky.
“Granger,”
“Malfoy,” she hissed.
He quickly got what he needed and was ready to spin on his heels when he noticed she hadn’t gotten anything for her yet. “Do you need help?”
“Urgh, no!” She sounded offended. “Well, yes… I want to get fairy wings, but they’re so high and Snape put on some anti-accio ward so I can’t get them!”
Draco smirked. “No problem, Granger.” He was more than a foot taller than her and managed to easily catch the vial she needed.
Now would be the perfect opportunity to make her press her large breasts to him, trying to get it.
Only he’d probably screw that up, too. And she’d end up hexing him
So, Draco only handed her the vial. Her small chubby fingers brushed against his long one’s and the smoothness of her touch sent electric waves through his arm, making him yank it away. Granger looked back at the vial she held and then back at him. Her freaking chocolat eyes looked as big as saucers and Draco wanted to kiss them shut before making his way to her mouth. But he only flexed his own fingers trying to ease off the shock after waves and turned to go back to his table.
He had still been thinking about it when he passed through the Charm’s corridor and found the Weaselette talking to Draco’s cousin, well, second-cousin or something, Moony Lovegood.
“And I really think he might even invite me to Yule!” The Weaselette grinned.
“But I thought it was Harry Potter that you fancied,” the blonde answered with her airy voice.
“Well, yes… But Harry would never invite me, he sees me as his mate’s sister… And besides, I can’t go around refusing an invite to the ball, it’s not like we’re allowed to go, being third years and all—”
Oh.
So, the Weaselette was only using his mate as a pacifier since Saint Potter didn’t want her? Frankly, what did these witches see in that scarred scrawny bloke?
Draco wasn’t into guys, but even he could see how much more handsome Blaise was. He was taller, broader, with dark smooth skin and a charming dimpled smile. Girls stood in line for him. Why would he waste his time with someone who didn’t even actually fancy him?
And a blood traitor, Weasel of all people? Who did she think she was?
He would save his friend from this red-haired bludger.
…
The following Tuesday, Granger was much nicer at Arithmancy.
Not that she was ever not nice, but she didn’t like him, and it showed. Only after their encounter did it start to show less. She would answer his greeting with less coldness and would speak to him with more gentleness.
Draco was loving it.
Clearly adoring it.
Whenever he was lucky enough to get a smile back from her at some witty thing he said… Merlin, it made him dizzy.
Once or twice he ,got her to mutter “brilliant” after he showed her a different way of solving a problem and, the admiration in her eyes altered his brain chemistry.
But nothing could have prepared him for that Tuesday. The culprit for his dismay was, once again, Prof. Vector. She just had to go and grade them an “Outstanding” in their assigned project, right?
More than that, she had to praise him and Granger for the whole class?
Didn’t she know what praises did to Granger?
(Draco wanted to know what praises did to Granger.)
The witch practically straddled Draco in a bear tight hug, celebrating their collective victory.
She was so forward, so free and fiery. Merlin, she would be the death of him. He was not prepared for someone like her, those muggle traits were definitely something else. How could she hug him like that?
Draco was positive that the only witch who ever hugged him was his mom.
Thinking of his mom helped, because the blood was rushing in his ears and he was sure that it was flowing downwards towards his groin.
He couldn’t do much more than breathe deeply, taking in her mango scent, and not think about how her breasts felt pressed against his chest, how her nose nestled in his collarbones and how her mouth was so close, so close.
She was so soft, so snugly and, so comfy. Draco wanted to stay in that hug forever just as much as he wanted to run away.
That night, while he lay one of the leather couches in the Slytherin Common Room, he made his decision.
He would invite Hermione Granger to join him at the Yule Ball.
Blood prejudice be damned.
Even if she was a mudblood, with Muggle manners and all, he was going to have her as a date. Obviously, she was only dirty in all the right ways, while being brilliant and beautiful in every other aspect of her.
“And then I told her I’d take her to the Yule and all!” he heard Marcus Flint burst out in laughter with the other seventh-years.
“Can’t believe you are! The mudblood?” Terrence Higgs snorted.
“Hell no! I’ll be taking a pureblood beauxbaton cutie… But the lie got Clearwater on her knees rather fast, and I put that Head Girl’s mouth to good use,” Flint said, rubbing his groin obscenely.
The other guys laughed along, and Draco could only grimace. Flint was an idiot.
“What’s that, Malfoy?” he provoked. “Don’t fret, my boy! You’ll be getting some action soon—”
“I hope I don’t have to lie to get it,” Draco said, coldly, moving towards his dorm.
It was impossible to find Granger for the following days. She was probably busy trying to help Potter not get murdered during the first task. When he finally reached her, Draco had already perfected and rearranged his perfect speech several times.
She was going to love it.
She was going to say yes and they would go to Yule together.
Anything his housemates had to say about it would fade in comparison to kissing that little cupid’s bow in Granger’s mouth.
“Granger,” he said nervously as he reached her in a corridor. “Can I speak with you?”
He was surprised to find that whichever common ground they had reached during the previous month was apparently lost, Granger narrowed her eyes at him and answered icily “Yes, Malfoy.”
He tried not to let her obviously unfriendly posture deter him from his goals.
“I tried in vain, Granger… I struggled--” His voice was hoarse, and he had to clean his throat before continuing, “But I can’t hide what I feel anymore… I’m ready to go against what my family and my house believe… Frankly, I’m acting against what I believe too, acting against my own better judgment. Because, Granger, with your origin and your house and your poor choice of friends… Well, if I am being honest, I can’t think of anything less smart than the two of us to be together, but”
He glanced down from the point in her forehead he had been staring at to avoid her eyes. Now he was diving into the chocolate pools that were her irises.
“It doesn’t matter. You have to let me tell you how much I admire you and like you… Will you go to the Yule with me?”
He exhaled quickly, relieved to see how he had been able to say all he wanted and all that he was willing to let pass to honour what he felt for her. How much she meant to him. He was proud of the romance and chivalry he managed to show her. What was more romantic than abandoning one’s beliefs and social expectations to pursue a relationship with the person one liked?
“Wow, Malfoy,” she answered after a sigh, and he could see how she was shaking, probably with the giddiness of such a nice catch asking her out. Sweet thing that Granger was. “While I am so thankful that you’d go against your better judgment” Sarcasm was dripping from every word, despite her tight smile. Maybe she wasn’t shaking a happy shake, maybe she was angry? “I must relieve you from this less-than-smart move and decline such a flattering invitation.”
The slap she gave him earlier that year had hurt less.
“Is that your answer?” he tried to confirm. It couldn’t be right.
“Yes.”
“Are you mocking me?” he asked, his face contorted with hurt and rage, suddenly too aware of how many people were around them. “Are you rejecting me?”
He didn’t even know which word should get more emphasis in his phrase. She was a mudblood. Was she rejecting him? Him? He was the richest pureblood heir in England. And he was definitely not ugly, either.
“I’m sure everything you believe will help you overcome this disappointment, Malfoy”
“Can I know why you reject me with so much rudeness?”
“Well, can I know why you chose to tell me you’re inviting me against your better judgment?”
Oh, she didn’t understand him right. “No, I didn’t mean to—”
“This would probably be why I was so rude, but believe me, I have other reasons—”
“What other reasons?”
“Ignoring the fact that you bullied me and my friends since I got into Hogwarts and the slurs you used to call me—”
“Grang—”
“There’s also the fact that I heard Theo and Blaise talking about how you saved Blaise from inviting Ginny to the ball, and it made her so sad.” Her voice broke at the end. “Do you deny it?” she demanded in a high-pitched whine, crossing her arms.
“No.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because, I heard her saying she liked Potter, and it looked like she was only going to say yes because she had no other chance of getting to the ball—”
“Ginny had a childhood crush on Harry!” Granger shrieked. “What she was developing for Blaise was a real thing! They were getting along so great! Before you came and ruined it all!”
Draco faltered. He hadn’t expected it.
“I’m sure you never liked her for your mate,” she continued. “Seeing she was Ron’s sist—”
“I wouldn’t hold it against her,” Draco muttered. “Though it’s clear—”
“What 's clear?” she demanded.
“It’s clear that any Weasley doesn’t have the elegance required to match us in formal events,” Draco said, coldly.
“Us? As in Slytherins?” She raised her eyebrow. “Or as in purebloods?”
“She’s a pureb—”
“But I’m not!” Granger spat. “So don’t I have elegance?”
“Well, no, but that’s what I like about you, all the traits of a mu—”
He regretted it even before he said it.
“A mudblood?”
“A muggleborn.” Draco tugged the neck of his shirt, feeling rather hot and flustered. This was not at all what he had planned. He searched for words, for something to translate all he felt for her. “You’re forward and flirty—”
“ Flirty?” she gasped.
“Huh — Er” Draco stuttered. “Yes, you’re always touching — and those jeans — and I know muggles have less restrictions on manners and— Well, pureblood girls are always prim and proper”
“Oh!” She gave him a bitter laugh. “So Muggle girls are tart and slappers, is that it?”
“No!” he said, exasperated. “That’s not what I’m saying—”
“That’s what you said!”
“I’m sorry!” he tried, desperate. How had it all gone so wrong?
She took a huge breath through her nose, her lips pressed and waited a long time before saying anything else.
“What about Flint?”
Draco clenched his jaw. “What about him?”
“Well, he told Penelope he wouldn’t take her to prom, because you were making his life a living hell over taking a muggleborn.”
That bastard.
“What?”
“I can’t understand why you’d take me to the ball if you’re clearly so opposed to the existence of my kind.” She pushed his chest. “Maybe you’re just trying to get some action, it’s the only way you’d want to act against your better judgement and the wishes of your family for a prim and proper pureblood—”
“What? Should I be happy that I’m into a muggleborn gryffindor who happens to be best friends with the two blokes I hate the most in school?”
“And that’s the flattery I should be thankful for?”
Draco lost his words.
“Ever since I met you, your arrogance, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others, made me realise that you are the last guy in this school or any other I would ever allow myself to go anywhere with!” Granger was not far from shouting this words in the middle of the crowded corridor. Several heads looked at their interaction now.
Draco’s face burned. His heart sank like lead with the rejection. Her words cut through him like knives.
“Forgive me, Granger. For wasting your time,” His words came out weak and pained before he stormed out.