Duels and Dances

Chapter 3

The following day, Hermione rounds the corner to her alcove in the library, hoping to find it empty. Nonetheless, her spot was plagued by disease once again. 

Today, Draco Malfoy sits reclined, his feet upon the table, a smirk plastered across his sharp features.

A single black calla lily rests atop the table across from him.

He gestures a lazy hand toward it. "A peace offering." Hermione takes notice of how it comes out as some sort of lazy scoff. 

Hermione arches a brow. What game is he playing at?

"Why?"

"You seem to be the only one here who still has your wits about you."

Boy, is he wrong.

"Lonely, are we? Even the Slytherins aren't very welcoming, I hear."

"Are you running out of insults yet?"

Hermione huffed, realizing he wouldn't be leaving her alone anytime soon. She weighed her options.

She could continue to throw her anger at him, yes. That's what she wanted to do. Or, if she was truly smart, she could accept his advances and learn something to benefit her cause. How Slytherin of her. 

She rolls her eyes as she takes a seat across from him. 

"I'm not Weasel or Potter. I'll let you read in silence." He turns back to the novel he was reading yesterday.

Hermione reluctantly reaches for her book, but her attention isn't held for long. Something about him draws her in, as revolting as it is to admit. She studies the veins in his wrist as his pale hands cradle the book. They are a stark contrast against his nearly translucent skin, like ink spilled on parchment. His fingers rub against the paper before turning the page, perhaps in anticipation, Hermione notes. He's currently halfway through Magical Theory for Advanced Wizards. Hermione mentally damns him for having such good taste. 

A month ago, Hermione wouldn't have been caught dead in the same corridor as Draco Malfoy, let alone at the same table. But that was before. She's tells herself she's okay with making compromises if that means she can learn just a fraction of Voldemort's plan. Even if those compromises are her own morals.

She looks to his left arm, mostly concealed by his sleeve. Mostly. Beneath the thin white fabric, she can make out the outline of the Dark Mark.

I wonder if he was proud, the day he got it. Maybe they threw him a party to celebrate.

"What do you want to ask, Granger?" Malfoy asks, sensing her questions without even glancing up from the page.

Hermione jolts, praying to Merlin he didn't completely notice her captivation. She weighs her options.

"Why did you come back?" she finally manages.

Draco Malfoy's entire body goes still. He closes his book and moves it aside, before meeting Hermione's eyes. 

"Because," he breathes, leaning forward. Hermione would think it sounded almost shameful if he weren't a Malfoy. "There's nowhere else for me to go."

"I don't believe you." What a slimy little snake he is, thinking he can lie to me.

"I'm not surprised," he rolls his eyes.

"I think you're calculated. And selfish. And I think you're here for a much greater reason."

"You don't know anything," he spits, standing from the table and pulling the strap of his book bag over his shoulder.

Normally Hermione would have never lost her patience so easily. But she's at her wits end. Half the castle treats her like she belongs in a mental hospital and now Draco Malfoy is toying with her. She's had enough.