Desire is Not Weakness

How does Draco sort out his feelings for Hermione Granger with an impending war? Students at Hogwarts are on edge, but will he be able to contain himself?


3. Deep

All of Charms I simply sat, bored out of my mind, staring out the window.  I was only drawn back when Granger raised her hand.  Unsure of what the question was, I looked around the room, seeing that hers was the only hand in the air.  Looking up at the board, I read, 'What is a nonverbal spell?'


"Mr. Malfoy?" squeaked Professor Flitwick.  "Your answer?" he urged after a few moments of silence.  I shrugged my shoulders and cleared my throat before speaking up.


"A spell performed without speaking the incantation aloud," I recited in a dull monotone.


"Precisely!" the professor smiled, continuing to write on the board with his floating piece of chalk.  Hermione turned in her chair, looked directly at me, furrowed her brow, and slowly lowered her hand.


"Now what are it's advantages?" he said, almost as fast as Hermione's hand darted into the air.


"Ms. Granger."


"According to the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6, 'Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you are about to perform, which gives you a split-second advantage.'"  Hermione spoke sharply, not even pausing to consult her textbook.


"Correct!" the man squeaked again.  Hermione turned once more, giving me a sarcastic smile, causing me to gain a bit more interest.  Surprisingly, she didn't raise her hand for the remainder of the class, nor did I.  However, she did continue to glance down at her books, drawing my eye to a piece of wrinkled paper sticking out of it, the poem I had slipped into her monstrous pile of work the night before.  She was sitting beside Weasley, with Potter in front of them, but I did notice that the redhead continued to stare at her throughout the class.  How suave, Weaselbee.


As the class was dismissed, Weasley snatched the paper from her hand and poured over it.


"You've been looking at this bloody page all class!" he gasped.


"If Hermione Granger could be distracted from her studies, this must be good," Potter said, plucking the paper from his best friend's hand.


"Oh, God," I mumbled under my breath.


"Who wrote this?" Potter asked.


"I ... I did," she stuttered.  Gathering my things, I made my way in their direction.


"No way!  It's about a girl.  Who wrote it?" Weasley said, becoming defensive.


"Nobody!" she said, yanking it from his hand.  I brushed past her, keeping my head down, my expression plain.  


"Watch it, Malfoy!" Ron shouted after me.  I continued to make my way toward the door, wishing to not further complicate the situation.  The Golden Trio began to exit the class.


"Come on, 'Mione, tell us who wrote it," Ron pleaded.


"Why, so you can go laugh at him?  Grow up, boys," she sneered.


"So it is a him," Harry said triumphantly.


"He's probably got it bad for her, poor sap," Weasley chuckled nervously.


"Stop!" Hermione shrieked, her voice carrying, forcing me to stop dead in my tracks.  "I have said nothing of your snog-fests with that little hussy, Lavender," she scolded him, before dashing in my direction.  She shoved her way past me, before turning around.  "Meet me in the Gryffindor Common Room, 7:00.  There's plenty to work on," she said in the most sultry voice she could muster, clearly loud enough for Potter and Weasley to hear.  The ironic thing would be that we had no assignment tonight, Granger was using me to get to Weasley.  But, I was okay with that.  Everything I wrote came true in this moment:


"I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death.  O' that I could have possession of them both in the same minute."


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