A/N: Ok, guys, this is it. The big one! I’m sew excited!!!!!
Chapter 8: Hermione
“What’s wrong with you?” I yelled to the hall. My face was flushed with anger, and my fists were clenched. “How could you just stand there and let someone be tortured?” Everyone shuffled their feet and looked down, ashamed. Then I turned to the head table and Headmistress McGonagall, and my rage burned white hot.
“How could you let this happen?” I screamed at her. “I thought you had more sense than that.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “Apparently, I was wrong.” I turned tail and ran as lightning cracked and rain began to pour down from the enchanted ceiling.
I don’t know how I knew where to find him. I just thought about anger and pain and everything filling me, and in minutes he was before me.
He sat at the top of the tallest tower, legs crossed and head bowed. I stood watching him for a few minutes, imagining reaching out and stroking his soft white-blonde hair. Rain pounded down around him, and he was soaked to the skin. Cold evaded him, however, for nothing could end his pain at that moment.
“Hey,” he called over the incessant drumming of the rain. His voice was off, and my heart throbbed with sympathy as I strode over and sat beside him.
“Hey,” I whispered in his ear. “I’m sorry.” He tensed, and I took his hand, letting him lean into me.
“Not your fault,” he replied. “I… I should probably be used to it, by now.” There was a half beat of hesitation before he continued. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” After some thought, I voiced a question that had been troubling me. “Why do you let them push you around like this? You could stop them.” Draco nodded.
“You’re right, I could. But I don’t.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Why?” My voice cracked, and a single tear mingled with the raindrops.
“I deserve this.” His voice was full of pain. “I deserved that, after everything I’ve done… I should be tortured.” I grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face me. He looked up, down, anywhere but me.
“Draco,” I murmured. Gray eyes found warm brown ones, and…
I kissed him.
It was fiercer than anything with Ron, more passionate. I could feel Draco’s longing, almost hunger, and I fed that. I stroked his hair, ran my fingertips along his jawline, pulled him closer. I followed every crazy impulse I’d had since that moment in the potions room, and I loved it. I wouldn’t stop until there wasn’t a breath left in my body, and only then did I pull away.
“Wow,” Draco breathed. “I mean, uh… wow.” He couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence, maybe because I kept stroking his hair or running my fingertips along his strong jawline. Finally, he grabbed my hands, pulled them down, and looked me straight in the eyes. “Hermione…”
“Yeah?” I asked absentmindedly, trying to pull my hands away. He grabbed them again, and the look in his eyes made me stop.
“Why did you kiss me?” The seriousness in his tone surprised me.
“What?” I was absolutely befuddled.
“Why did you kiss me?” He repeated. Now he looked worried. “Because I don’t want to be a pity case, or a rebound fling, or-”
“Draco,” I cut him off, rubbing my thumbs in circles on his. “I kissed you because I’m tired of waiting around for happiness. I’m ready to make my own happiness. And you… Draco, you make me really, really happy.”
“You’re sure?” He still sounded dubious.
“I’m sure.” I pulled him close and our lips met as the rain poured down.
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