Iniquity

Part XIII

Draco's head is pounding as he enters the shop, his eyes bleary. He hopes his sweat isn't visible through his shirt. Someone calls his name, and he whirls around. Granger stands in front of him, a green apron tied around her waist, and he wants to like it. He feels like he should think it's cute, sexy even, but distaste bubbles in his mouth.

"Good morning," she says, her voice annoyingly high, and he winces. "Can you help me with the Christmas stack?" Draco has no idea what she's referring to but follows her nonetheless. Her hips sway as she walks, curls bouncing, and a part of him wants to bury his face in her hair.

He ignores the idea.

They round a corner, and suddenly she's pressing him into the bookshelf, her hands running up his chest as she kisses him. Startled, he grasps her shoulders, not pushing her away but keeping her at the distance she set.

"You look tired today," she mumbles against his mouth, and his breath hitches as her tongue swipes his lower lip. "Anyway, how can I help?"

He doesn't respond right away, his back stiff as she continues to kiss him, his nails digging into her skin as she begins palming him through his dress pants. "Granger, I--"

"Back to formalities?" she scoffs, pulling away slightly, and she pouts. She actually pouts, her lips pursed, and a feeling of annoyance tumbles over him.

"Get off of me," Draco fumes, releasing her shoulders with a light shove.

She stumbles back, surprise clearly written over her delicate features, but why does she get to look surprised? She had kissed him, he never would have even dreamed of touching her. She is silent, staring at him as he attempts to fix his collar.

"The fuck are you doing, Granger?" he snaps.

"I...what?" she asks, large eyes staring so hard he feels like they see through him, that he turns away hurriedly. The bell of the front door being opened dings, and she snaps out of her daze, racing towards the front of the shop.

Draco wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, surprising himself when he finds he misses her contact.

-

For the rest of the shift, Granger skirts around him, her eyes avoiding his face, and he's happy for it. Where does she get off throwing herself at him like that? The more he thinks about it, the more his anger grows. He has a girlfriend for crying out loud. Does she have no decency, no self control?

As the hours tick on, his dull ache of a headache goes through waves of pain, turning to slight drumming, just to go back to insufferable throbbing. Eventually, the throbbing lowers to a light hum, settling somewhere at the base of his skull.

Draco slides a book into a paper bag for a customer at the register, handing it to them with a slight huff of annoyance. The witch nods her head as she walks out, and he follows close on her heel to finally--finally--flip the open sign to close.

"What the fuck, Draco?"

He rolls his eyes as he turns to face an infuriated Granger, her hands crossed over her chest and a look of loathing written across her pretty features.

Pretty?

"What can I do for you, you annoying brat?" he hisses, shoving past her so he can finish counting the register. He needs to hurry. He didn't want to keep Pansy waiting.

"Draco, what's going on?" Granger says, her voice low. She takes a step forward, placing her hands gingerly on the counter top. "Did something happen?"

"Something like what?" Draco barks back, beginning to stack the Galleons in their correct order. He finds her staring at his hands as he moves.

"It's your father, isn't it?" she whispers, not meeting his eyes. "He found out about us."

Ah, yes, there is an us.

Wait a moment. No, there isn't.

"Us?" Draco laughs, his tone venomous. "The fuck do you even mean? He doesn't care who I work with." Her brows come together in confusion, and she reaches forward taking his hand. He yanks it away, like he's been burned. "Stop touching me."

"Draco, why are you acting like this?" Granger pleads, rounding the corner of the counter, coming so close that he's pressed into the corner of the wood. "Is it because of me and my...blood-status?" She pauses on the last word, and her eyes are so wide he thinks she'll soon begin to cry.

Comfort her.

"Granger, I don't know what you're carrying on about, but it isn't amusing in the slightest," he says, trying to keep his tone even. "I'm leaving as soon as I finish the count. You should, too. You're obviously unwell."

"Stop it, Draco!" she suddenly yells, and he blinks. She's breathing hard, her hair curtaining around her face. "Stop talking to me like...like I'm nothing!" He cracks a smile at this, and a sudden urge to kiss her nearly overwhelms him as he staggers, placing his hand on the edge of the counter to steady himself. He hears her saying his name, but the sound is muffled, a dull thudding echoing throughout his head.

You know her, more than you remember.

"Draco?" She places a hand on his shoulder and he shutters, falling to his knees. She crouches down next to him, squeezing his arm with one hand and pulling her wand out with the other. "Draco, talk to me. What happened?"

He wants to kiss her, to wrap her up in his arms and never let go. He wants to tell her how beautiful she is, how lovely she looks when she's under him and how he knows he'll never be content again without her. Instead, he opens his mouth and says, "Fuck off."

It's practically a wheeze, and he coughs lightly as she begins a diagnostic spell, muttering to herself and ignoring his profanity.

"You must've been...tricked, or jinxed," she mumbles, and he hunches over in a whirl of pain. Quickly, she grabs his face, her hands cradling his cheeks to look up at her. "It's going to be okay. I-I'll figure this out."

She continues to speak, but he's too focused on the thudding to listen, and he shuts his eyes tightly. For a moment, the pain begins to dampen, the thudding not so loud that he can hear her again.

"Draco, it's me," she assures him, and he feels his eyes prick at the sound of her voice. He feels himself shrinking, the part of him that wants her fading into the back of his skull as she gives him a smile. She's so close he can count her freckles. "Something's happened to you, but me and you? We're good together."

He shakes his head harshly and before he can stop her, she kisses him. It's quick and soft, her sweet scent filling his nose, and he thinks whatever has clouded his mind has finally passed. She pulls away, giving him another smile.

"You are such a good girl," he hums, and she seems to sigh in relief. He reaches up, cupping her face, right as she begins to fade in his mind-sight. "That's why I don't want you."

She's so taken aback, he's able to push her aside and stride out the door without a second glance, his heart begging him not to.

-

He arrives at the Hog's Head nearly twenty minutes early, taking his seat at the reservation under the name Parkinson. He orders a glass of expensive champagne and downs it in one swig, raising his hand to flag a waiter and order another.

"Starting without me?" Pansy asks as she sashes into her seat, her thin hand slipping into his. He frowns at their fingers. Her hand doesn't feel right, it was too slim, too cold. "How was work today?"

Her question distracts his thought process as he clears his throat. "Decent, although you wouldn't believe the spectacle Granger made of herself."

Pansy pauses mid-sip of her own champagne, pressing her lips together. "Did she now?" she questions, taking a slow swig. "How so?"

"I don't even understand it myself," Draco replies, flipping open the menu. "Trying to act as if, it sounds preposterous coming from my mouth, as if we were dating."

Pansy's laugh is so shrill he holds the menu up higher as if to block out her sound. He's so busy reading the text that he doesn't see her grin, he doesn't notice the way she tips a vile into her own glass, and he certainly doesn't see when she switches his normal drink with her own.