Magnetic Attraction

Chapter 14: A New Malfoy Resolve

There were no words to describe how confused Draco Malfoy was as he sat in the Quidditch stands after fleeing the Charms classroom. He lay back across the bench, staring up at the sky as if the rain clouds above him spelled out the answers he needed. He didn't care that he was getting soaked, he hardly noticed as the drops were absorbed into his uniform, for he was too lost in his problems. What problems did he have, you ask? Do not doubt that Draco Malfoy had serious problems.

You see, the young Malfoy had issues with trust. Cursed by Malfoy breeding, he was haunted by intense paranoia, and hated more than anything to be vulnerable. And though he refused to admit it, he was at the moment very vulnerable. He had just publicly admitted that he was in love with a Muggleborn. And not just a Muggleborn, but a Gryffindor Muggleborn. Plus, not only a Gryffindor Muggleborn, but the best friend of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Had-Gotten-Lucky (BWHGL). That was three strikes against her, and three reasons why what he felt would be looked down upon.

Of course, the attraction disappearing also meant she loved him, but that was a very thin silver lining. If anyone got curious as to why the attraction had faded, they could easily look it up and see that he, Draco Malfoy, was in love with Hermione Granger.

Merlin, she loved him! He wanted to jump up and down! He wanted to scream it across Hogwarts grounds! He felt like proposing to her or doing something equally rash. But he wouldn't, because there were so many other things to worry about. He was a Malfoy; he was under constant examination. The Daily Prophet would have a field day, meaning she would be in considerable danger. Making out occasionally was so much different from a public, loving relationship. Not to mention she was a famous war hero, the best friend of the BWHGL. Plus Potter and Weasley were just so damned protective. He was going to die. Oh Merlin, they were going to kill him. He snorted softly, but coughed and sat up as rain went up his nose. But he sobered up instantly.

His hand felt empty without hers.

It wasn't as if he didn't have enough on his plate at the moment, he had to prepare for his mother's funeral. Draco wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that Hermione wouldn't be coming with him. Or maybe she would come, who knew? Brooding would get him nowhere; he had to go speak to her.

And get into dry clothes.

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Hermione glared at her bookcase. Nothing could distract her without somehow reminding her of him. Not Muggle teenage romance, not Shakespeare, not her textbooks, not anything. Frustrated that her extensive library had failed her, she pulled her magically-altered iPod off her bedside table and sorted through her play-lists. After rounds of complicated spells she had managed to eliminate the need for electricity from the gadget, and now it was fueled by her own raw magical energy. Hermione skipped over Coldplay, shivering at the memory of being out on the lake. No, she wouldn't linger on him until he came to talk to her.

Ah ha, Evanescence would do nicely. She slipped on her headphones and cranked up "Bring Me to Life." It was perfect, loud, morbid, and distracting, nothing like Draco. Well, he could be thought of as loud and morbid but- no! No Draco!

How can you see into my eyes, like open doors?

She settled back on her bed, propped up by pillows. Um... think about something else. Quidditch, boring goal hoops, Luna's strange commentary, guys on broomsticks. Draco on a broomstick, his hair whipped back from his face as his muscular arms steer the- damn it.

Leading you down into my core, where I've become so numb.

Oh, the Yule Ball. Decorations, fake snow, fog charms, a DJ, dancing. Dancing with Draco as his arms wrap around her waist, her head leaning against his firm chest while he- crud.