Stormy Grey & Hazel Brown - A White Christmas Tale

III

I was still in utter shock. My heart seemed like it was about to pop out of my chest, my cheeks were definitely flushed red because I could feel my whole body to be hot and I was trying to get a grip of what had just happened.

I do realise Malfoy has been extremely nice and weird ever since the beginning of this morning but yet still I couldn't quite understand the meaning behind the actions he had just portrayed.

At this point I was really completely lost as to why he had done such a thing. Was he teasing me? But there was no one around for him to play his evil-self to. Was he just having fun seeing me getting all prude-ly embarrassed? But he did say he was a nice person and wouldn't do that to me anymore. However, then again, he also did say he couldn't control his inner sexual beast.

What the bloody hell.

The scene kept repeating itself in my head and my heart didn't seem to stop racing. Why couldn't it stop racing? This was Draco Mal-...

Yeah, enough of this.

You're smart enough to understand what's going on, Hermione. You've had your platonic crush on him on your first year already, and it all changed after he revealed himself to be a dick. But, oh! Oops! Guess what, it seems like he isn't really a dick and now your heart started making all of these assumptions and you may possibly have redeveloped your crush on him. And honestly, him acting like a bloody saint sweetheart the whole damn time wasn't helping.

Damn him.

The problem is I really can't do anything about it anymore. It's here, and it'll stay until I find something else to hate on him and focus on that long enough for me to get these feelings away. Thing is, after all that has been going on, I guess there really isn't anything else that I could possibly hate about him. He, like many of us, was someone with a complicated decision to make at a very young age, and it's what has gotten him here – even if through means he doesn't agree with or, really, like. And, as sad as it is to be in his shoes, it's still really admirable.

Oh, great, now he's 'admirable'. Way to go with getting rid of your feelings, Hermione.

A part of me (I hate to admit it, but a major one) kind of wanted to go talk to him. My reaction had been a clear reflection of, I see now, the feelings I was so thoroughly repressing, but I guess they were conceived wrongly in his point of view. And I really didn't want that. However, I wonder if he even wishes to speak with me... plus, I'm the only one soft-hearted here, he's just probably pissed over the way I acted (him thinking of me as somewhat of a friend by now), whilst I am here, remorseful over my long-conceived, one-sided platonic crush.

I take a look at the clock on the wall. Maybe I should wait for lunch. My eyes fall on the couch, where the blanket he had lent me laid. I make my way to it, once more wrapping it around my shoulders. It feels warm and my heart beats harder against my chest just at the thought that this belongs to him. As weird as it seems, it gives a sense of strange liberty to me in admitting my feelings for him; almost as if I'm finally releasing a great deal of weight off of my shoulders. I sit on the couch and cross my legs, wrapping my entire body like a navy-blue burrito, and solely stare at the fire until the clock hit eleven. I then get up, leave the blanket where it was before and make my way towards the kitchen to meet with the elves.

When I get back with the food, I set the table for two in naïve hope. I walk over to his bedroom door and reluctantly knock on it.

"Malfoy? I don't know if you're still mad but, I got us lunch." I fail in trying to sound cheerful. "Would you care to join me? Maybe?" I say in a slightly afraid tone but get no answer in return. "Okay, food's on the table if you decide to come later." I let out a defeated tone. I walk back to the table and start serving myself when I hear a noise coming from my back. I look around and Malfoy was closing his bedroom door behind him. He looks surprised I had heard him.

"Do you mind?" He asks, coming closer. I can't help but convey a smile that I quickly hide.

"I did ask you to come, didn't I?" I try to sound the same as usual.

He sits across from me this time (just because now I wished he'd sit next to me) and serves himself. We eat in awkward silence when a strong bumping inside my chest encourages me to speak up.

"Look" I say looking at my plate, but I can notice from my peripheral view that his head had lifted and that he was looking at me. "I'm sorry about this morning. I really am. I don't know why I acted that way but I don't want you to think that I think ill of you or anything." I play with my food, hiding my obviously embarrassed face. He takes a while to answer so I lift my head to see if his expression showed if he was still mad. When my eyes meet his, he smiles widely, almost relieved.

"It's okay" he says. Merlin's beard could he please stop smiling it was killing me. "I'm sorry too." His voice turns into a more serious tone and he looks down at his plate. "I shouldn't have done what I did either."

"So we're even?" I try to break the tension. He smiles again. God why.

"We're even."

We finish our lunch still in silence (even though this time it wasn't awkward). When we finish cleaning up, he goes back to his room and I to mine; there, I pick up a blanket and my current book and go back to the common room. I wrap myself blanket-burrito style, covering myself up to my head, light the fire with my wand and sit on the armchair to read. I was focused on my book when I hear a voice from my right.

"What are you reading?"

I look up to see the Malfoy I hadn't seen walk in sitting on the couch by my armchair, on the seat closest to me.

"Oh, just muggle books." I don't make a big deal out of it. I look at him and he seems to be holding back a smile. "What?" I ask a bit embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I can't help myself, you just look like an adorable burrito." He smiles. "A Grangerrito." I can't hold back a slight laugh.

"Oh, it makes puns now, too?" I close the book and remove the blanket from my head, leaving it to rest around my shoulders. "Wait a moment. How do you know about muggle Mexican food?"

"Family visited Mexico once when I was younger. Plus, do you still honestly think muggles made that up?" He says knowingly.

"I'm buying anything at this point." I say, giving up and accepting my whole life to be a lie. He laughs. I smile back. Tension silence walks in again.

"But hey, honestly, what's your book about? I would like to know what made you get so immersive to not even see me walk in." He breaks the awkwardness.

"Oh, it's Sherlock Holmes." I answer.

"Ah, is he the author?" He leans closer to see the cover of the book, making me blush with the small distance between us.

"No, no." I let out an embarrassed laugh. "He's the character. He's a detective in XIX Century London, the book follows some of his cases. It's surprisingly immersive, as you said so yourself."

"It does sound interesting. Did he really exist or...?" He looks at me, waiting for me to complete his question.

"Nope, purely fictional." I answer. He nods in agreement.

"Muggles are so creative... always coming up with all kinds of stories to entertain themselves." He said staring at the book.

"But there are plenty of fictional wizard books too, aren't there?" I ask.

"Yeah, there are some... but they all mainly revolve around magic itself, so it's not very different from your ordinary history books." He started to look me in the eyes which made my heart bump a little. "However, muggles use their imagination more widely for that, the stories are always so much interesting. It's a shame dad doesn't let me read them. I've snatched some from a library in London but he soon found out and burned them. "Profanity" he said. And big ol' grumpy Lucius is always right." His tone turned bitter. "I had to pay a fee, too, for never returning the books. Ms. Berminghan wasn't very happy."

"Is Ms. Berminghan ever happy?" I joke. He laughed.