Strap in, mes amies, this is a doozy.
Draco has never been good at wandless magic. His ego, he surmises, would always be his downfall. Or his selfishness. The two worked rather well together, as it turns out.
His ego: to have never thought to learn wandless magic before being trapped in the basement of what was once his beloved school.
His selfishness: at pushing away the only opportunity he had at escaping this godforsaken pit.
He hadn't meant to watch her memory. Well, that's a lie. He had. She had told him to, so he did. What did she expect?
But as soon as he finished watching it, his hands immediately started shaking.
Oh. That was... personal. Way too personal.
He was angry at himself, for pushing her when she was obviously on the ledge. Angry at himself for not ever taking the hint. Angrier, even, for opening that stuping fucking book even when he knew he shouldn't.
But she told him to!
Poor excuse, Malfoy, he tells himself. Poor excuse indeed.
On the other hand, Draco has always been good at reading people. Even before mastering Occlumency, he had an uncanny knack for reading between the lines and scouring faces for their tells. And he knew what Hermione's tells were.
He knew that line between her brows meant that she was frustrated, but that when there were two, she was angry. He knew that when she crossed her arms, she was guarded. He knew that when she twirled her hair - and Merlin, did she do that a lot - she was nervous.
All of these things he'd seen when he'd picked up the book. And yet he persisted.
Yes, a better man would have put the book back and left it alone.
But Draco Malfoy was nothing if not self-aware, and he knew he was not a good man.
"You're an asshole." He whispers to himself after winning another game of chess. He then chuckles humourlessly.
Talking to himself, what a new low.
Draco had spent the last week reading, playing chess, re-reading, avoiding the mirror, and re-re-reading. What he would give to discuss those books with someone.
With Hermione.
No. Not her.
Yes, her.
He scowls at his thoughts and flops onto his stomach, groaning into his pillow.
More often than not, his mind finds its way to that witch. Her long dark legs under that -yes, hideously long - skirt. Her tightly coiled hair. The smattering of freckles across her face. He finds himself reminiscing on her more positive tells.
Like the way her lips quirk when she's teasing him. Or the way she covers her mouth when she laughs a little louder than she expected. Or the way her face goes red when he catches her staring at his hands. He especially likes that last one.
If only his wands weren't so grimy. Then maybe he wouldn't be so embarrassed to have her looking at them like she... wanted to reach out and grab them. To feel them on her mahogany skin. Or was it topaz? He had a hard time figuring out exactly what shade of brown her skin was. Whatever it was, he wanted to taste it.
Draco lets out another groan as he feels himself harden in his trousers. Admonishing himself, he shakes all thoughts of her from his head, knowing just how much of a nuisance it was jacking off down here without the help of magic, or god forbid, a bloody shower afterwards. He tried it once in his second week trapped down here and quickly realized what a stupid idea it was. He wasted a cup of water washing the remains of his arousal off his shirt and went thirsty for a day.
YOU ARE READING
Absolute Power
Fanfic'Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men.' - John Emerich Edward Dalberg Acton. Hermione Granger loves irony. Lives for it. An example: Harry and Ron leaving her behind on their mission to...
