Through Different Eyes

year five; of kisses and maps

Draco and Hermione met behind an armoured knight between classes. The knight was in an empty branching hallway, and they were safe for a few minutes before they had to get to class.

Really, they were getting cocky. Meetings in the library were routine, but too easy. They needed a challenge and pushed their chances every opportunity they had, meeting right under everybody's noses.

"Why is Umbridge literally the worst?" he complained, slumping against the wall. They had just come from her class. It was only through their excessive studying of the textbook theories and practical spells that either one of them had gotten high grades in the subject, seeing as Dumbledore didn't like consistency or competent professors.

"That awful woman..." Through the bustle about the hallway, he heard one pair of footsteps coming closer. "I mean, how does a person even get to be like tha-" Draco our his hand over her mouth, shutting her up. She looked upset for a moment before seeing the expression on his face and hearing the approaching steps. Her eyes went wide.

Both of them stayed very still, hoping whoever it was would turn around. Maybe, Draco thought, if I kiss her, the person would leave them alone. They would just think it was a couple trying to snog and not ask questions. Or maybe it was a teacher and would tell them to get to class, in which case would see their faces. That would be much worse.

Running out of time and options, Draco tried to convey to Hermione what he was doing and she seemed to understand as he leaned in.

Umbridge has a miserably distinct voice.

The footsteps stopped a couple feet from the knight. "Who's there?" She asked before their lips touched. It like a child playing hide and seek: trying to sound sweet so whoever's hiding will come out, but her idea of sweet was quite different than anyone else's.

Draco took a second to process, before he stepped into the hallway.

"Sorry, professor," he apologized, trying to look sheepish. "I just needed a moment to myself before going to class." Her pink arms were crossed over her pink torso, her pink shoe tapping the floor, her pink lips pursed and her chin was raised, showing off her pink necklace. He walked past her to get to class hoping she wouldn't stand too long so Hermione could make it to hers on time.

All throughout his next class, and lunch, dinner, and the rest of the night he couldn't stop replaying that split second where he leaned down and she leaned in. He knew he liked her, more than he had ever liked anyone else, and even would say he loved her. It was a platonic love, he defended whenever he thought about her too much. But now he couldn't stop. He found himself wishing it would have happened.

His dream that night – not surprisingly – was about kissing her. They were outside sitting by the lake, close because of the cold. He was looking at her, and when she turned her head towards him their faces were centimetres apart. The fog from their breath mixed and her eyes looked down. Down to his lips.

He couldn't help but look at hers, and then he leaned closer. So did she. And closer. His eyes drifted closed. Their noses were touching. And closer. And then–

Then he woke up. A bad word came out of his mouth. His mind wouldn't let him fall back asleep or think of anything but kissing her. There was a string of choice words following.