Parade of the Sun - Dramione

PART TWENTY-THREE.

August 24; 4:00pm

The trouble with ignoring something, or someone, when you are stuck with that someone, and something, the entire day and night -- there is nowhere to go, and nothing to distract yourself with.

It was a freak accident -- they had been full off fruit as if they were drunk off wine. Maybe there had been some sort of...aphrodisiac in it. Some sort of magic that-- All right, she knew that was a lie no matter what she told herself to think otherwise. The fact, the true fact of it all - is that she kissed Draco Malfoy. And if she were really going to be honest with herself - she liked kissing Draco Malfoy. Her stomach had been twisting in a way that did not prelude sickness, the hammering of her heart was not in fear - not completely, anyway - and there had been no intention within the grasp of her hands and fingers to push him anywhere but closer.

Which was wrong.

It hadn't felt wrong, at the time, but in that aftertaste of him on her tongue, there had been wrongness. Because Hermione Granger was not supposed to kiss Draco Malfoy and like it. She was supposed to push him away, or get sick, or compare it to an animal attack upon her face. And while it had been a bit...animalistic, he might have felt the same with her own reaction. The problem - one of the problems - was that she no longer looked at him as Malfoy. The boy she threw dirty looks at across the Great Hall, who was destined to try and kill her on opposite sides of a battle. The problem was that he had become the man she threw dirty looks at while walking beside him, who was destined to save her as much as she was him. A person could only save your life so many times, and you his, before you start looking at him more for his present than his past. Before you start thinking that, despite everything, maybe he's really not as bad as his mistakes would suggest.

Maybe it wasn't supposed to be a big deal. People kissed - they did it every day. A ton of people were snogging right now, and now, and now. People were snogging people whose name they didn't even know, whose face they wouldn't remember the next day. Were kissing on dares, and curiosity, and need. So, it was a kiss. It was just a kiss. And that didn't have to mean the world shifted, or fell down about her head. Two people kissing - it was that simple. It was that complicated.

She couldn't stop staring at his mouth. She couldn't stop reenacting it in her head; remembering the feel of his lips against hers, the swirl of his tongue, his exhales, that little sound he made at the back of his throat, or his fingers. She hoped he didn't notice.

August 25; 9:01am

"I hope it doesn't rain today."

Oh, God. The first thing she said to him in almost two days, and it was about the weather. It didn't even look like it was going to rain. There was no reason for her to even come out with that, and he knew it too. He sent her a little side glance - which might have been the first time he had looked at her in almost two days as well - that had her doing a lot of rapid blinking at the trees and ground.

She was not supposed to be this girl. She was supposed to be collected, mature, and assured. Yes, assured Hermione, talking about the weather.

He didn't respond, and she pretended he hadn't heard her.

3:31pm

She hissed as her hair got snagged by a branch, some strands ripping out from when she had been still walking along unaware. She reached up to untangle it from the little leaves and twigs, scowling at the ground, and looked up when Malfoy's footsteps stopped fading away and grew louder. He walked back to her, reaching up to where her hair had been caught. She stared at his chin, and might have spent a little too long looking at mouth, before looking up to the bottom of his eyes. The last time he had seen this happen to her he had laughed, but he had also been behind her and managed to catch the whole head-snapping moment. He also hadn't lifted a finger when it took her several minutes of tugging, breaking, unwrapping frustration.