Dramione Oneshots

Are You a Witch or Not?

Class was about to let out, all of the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins were cleaning up their potions station in a hurry to get to lunch as quickly as possible. After she finished bottling her sample to leave for Professor Snape, Hermione grabbed the leftover ingredients and walked into the cupboard that held the school supplies. She put back all but one in the correct spot and was now looking for the stool she needed to reach the jar for the boomslang skin on the top shelf. It was nowhere in sight. With a huff of frustration, she climbed onto the counter and reached for the jar. Carefully, she placed the skin back inside and returned the jar to its original location. 

“Granger! What in Merlin’s name are you doing up there?”

Startled by the voice behind her, Hermione tried turning around quickly to face the boy but misjudged the space of the counter left beneath her knees and began to fall backwards.

Rather than falling to her death, or to a bruised bum, she fell into the arms of the last person she expected to ever catch her.

“Malfoy?”

“Well?”

“I-I can’t reach the top shelf, and the stool isn’t here.”

“So you climbed on the counter? How uncouth.” He really did look like he was offended by the idea, which was absolutely silly.

“It’s habit, I suppose.”

“Climbing on counters is a habit of yours?”

“Didn’t you need to climb on counters as a child to reach something?”

“No.” He looked insulted by the question, and she realized why. “My house elves procured whatever I needed.” He was judging her muggle upbringing. Of course, the spoiled prat never needed to climb onto a counter. “Why couldn’t you have levitated the jar down?”

“I forgot.”

“You forgot? What, that you’re a witch?”

“It happens on occasion.”

“I see.”

“Malfoy?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you still holding me?”

She expected him to drop her right then and there, but was surprised when she didn’t immediately capsize out of his arms. His chest swelled slightly as he gripped her tighter, and while she couldn’t read anything in his blank stare it was clear that he was searching her expression as well, probably with more success. He lowered her gently to the ground and she released her hold around his neck, but when he didn’t remove his hands from her hips, the position of his body and arms forced her hands to remain flat against his chest. With a quick squeeze of his hands, he left without another word.

⁂

Stupid shelves. It was completely unreasonable to expect students to reach these books if ladders and stools weren’t easily accessible in each aisle. She stepped onto the lowest shelf and pushed up onto her toes, yet still the book was a bit beyond her grasp. 

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and goosebumps travelled down her arms. There was someone behind her. She could feel his presence, knowing it was a man by how large he felt against her. Only when he reached up did she catch a whiff of spice, unmistakably expensive, and something sweet, maybe a little tart. Stupid green apples. 

A pale hand with incredibly long fingers held the book she had wanted right in front of her. Tauntingly. She gripped the binding, but he didn’t release it. “You know you’re a witch, right?” His whisper tickled her skin, his breath warmed her ear. “There’s even a spell for that, you know.” She could hear a subtle amusement in his voice despite his glum demeanor of late.