Merry Christmas Mr. Malfoy (Book 1)

Chapter 13 : The Caring Uncaring

The Caring Uncaring

Tuesday dawned in darkness. The azure skies were overcast, covered by thick, black clouds that prohibited many, if not all, rays of light from illuminating the world below. The only sign of day was the red horizon, a brief glow of light that managed to make the snow sparkle and the world glow. That is, until the sun grew high enough to be consumed by the clouds.

Tuesday dawned with the threat of a storm.

Draco Malfoy absolutely loathed snowstorms.

Snowstorms always made everything seem ten times colder. The wind blew and howled, always finding some way to sneak within the halls of Hogwarts and wail endlessly throughout the night. The world became a grey-black mass, the only other shade or colour available to his sight being the white, swirling snow tumbling violently down from the dark heavens.

Snowstorms were terribly unpleasant; they were noisy, wet, and nerve-wracking. He felt isolated to his bedroom and Common Room, unable to go onto the grounds or out to Hogsmeade and the castle became far too frigid to wander about in unless one wore an Inuit's gear.

Walking around Hogwarts during a snowstorm was like walking around Iqaluit in the middle of February. Unpleasant to say the least.

This unpleasantness made him moody, which, in turn, made him snappish and prone to rude comments and arguments. He had not yet been able to find a good sparring partner; she had been hiding in her room since their discussion two days ago, and this further irritated him.

Draco Malfoy was cranky as hell and Hermione Granger was going to be his first victim the second she stepped out of her damn bedroom.

To add to his unhappy state, the damn Common Room was still bathed in a blue glow.

Hell, it was starting to prick on his nerves more and more, especially since during snowstorms, he enjoyed the sight of warm, merrily crackling flames of orange and red in the hearth.

'Damn Muggle-Born twat,' he thought sourly, glowering at his feet propped on the table. 'Doesn't know how to read directions for shit. Calls me a sneak for hiding in my room when that's what she's been doing the past two days. Fuck Granger, that hypocrite.'

When the last thought sentence put him even more on the edge, sending carnal images of him and Hermione performing several acts of lust into his mind, he growled in frustration.

Draco Malfoy was not in a good mood and it was quite obvious when Hermione Granger dared exit her room, dressed in her peacoat, hat, scarf and gloves.

The second her feet hit the Common Room floor, the tension became palpable and uncomfortable. She felt more than saw his burning gaze on her, furious, if not lust-filled, and she squirmed, wishing that she had not even gotten out of bed that morning.

"Where have you been?"

His voice was low and threatening, a warning for her to tread carefully lest she unleashed the Malfoy Fury.

"I spoke with Professor Slughorn just before vacation began and he gave me an extra-credit assignment to work on. I have been going over it and finishing it in my room the past few days," she lied.

The second he stood up, she completely regretted her decision to come down and even try to face him. Two days had not been enough time to think and prepare herself for the look in his eyes. His body was tense, hard plains of muscle under the silk of his shirt, and she felt her body squirming, both inside and out, in something more than discomfort.

Her knickers threatened to go damp, the crotch of her jeans rubbing, oddly pleasantly, against her.

Two days, two days of fighting back urges to touch herself, of wishing she knew what was going on, two days of isolation from the man of her dreams, had not been enough.