Memoria Luxareo @tootytots1
Running Away

The memory faded away, Hermione's face replacing Mina's, Edwards own loud thoughts being replaced with all the loud idiotic things Draco felt for one rather loud and annoying Gryffindor. His breath faltered as he realised his lips were against hers, his fingers buried deep in her bushy hair. Her body was pressed flush against his own and his skin warmed where they touched. A shiver ran down his spine that he knew had nothing to do with the Sensieve's magic. He could hear his father cursing him in his head- something about family values and hexes- but he couldn't move. He was a Slytherin after all and he knew an opportunity when he saw one.

Keeping his eyes closed to the reality waiting outside the Sensieve's room, he imagined it was just them; just Draco, just Hermione, somewhere else. Where blood and names didn't matter, where there wasn't Gryffindor, there wasn't Slytherin, and him being completely enthralled with all she was, wasn't a bad thing. Draco tilted his head, moving his lips gently against hers focusing on the fragile thoughts.

All at once the whole lip-nibbling infuriation that had lead him to distraction, made sense. It stuttered into focus as his own breath stuttered in his lungs. Her mouth was soft and real against his own, and she tasted good. Better than good. Better than anything his woeful imagination could ever have conjured. His hand splayed across her lower back, gently tugging her closer. He was kissing Hermione Granger. He repeated it several times in his head, waiting for the reality of it to sink in. He was kissing Hermione Granger. it was utterly unbelievable, so crazy and absurd, but he found himself suppressing a smile.

His heart very nearly stopped in his chest, and his legs, which were shaking anyway, nearly buckled beneath him. The Gryffindor was kissing him back. The pressure gentle and curious, as if testing the reality of the moment. The explosion of happiness that erupted in his chest surprised even him. The thought, the small semblance of hope that she might want him back, grew exponentially and he opened his mouth against hers their breath mingling together.

Suddenly though, Hermione ripped herself away from him, yanking herself violently from his arms, her chest heaving as she sucked air into her lungs and cheeks flushed a bright red. He grit his teeth as rejection flooded into the space between them and stabbed at his chest. The hurt made him flinch away from her, arms falling by his sides.

"What...what are you doing?" she was breathless, her lips red and wonderful. She looked dishevelled, uncertain and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again; to feel her gentle curiosity and match it with all the questions he'd ever pondered about her, about himself, about the impossible possibility of them. But he stopped himself because she was gazing at him furiously, a small frown of confusion wrinkling her forehead. No matter what he had foolishly felt for her, he knew that it was utterly preposterous that she would feel the same way.

Hermione watched as the all the emotions swimming him Draco's eyes disappeared and she was looking up at the boy that had bullied her for so many years. The cold, heartless, pompous Slytherin that sneered at her and called her names, that hated her because of her blood. The change was so sudden that Hermione found herself unable to do anything but blink stupidly up at him.

"Standing, Granger, what does it look like?." Draco scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets, refusing to meet her gaze.

" kissed me." Hermione struggled to say it out loud, and when she had she realised how ridiculous it sounded. But she could still feel the pressure of it on her lips, the telltale realness of it.

"Don't be ridiculous, Granger, why would I ever kiss you?" She considered his statement for a while, knowing deep down he had a point. Why would he ever want to kiss her? Still, the way he said it stung and she couldn't understand why it wasn't as if she'd wanted to kiss him.

"I...I don't," she paused, staring down at her hands then glancing back up at the blonde, "I don't know." Her finger brushed against her bottom lip, as if she could find traces of the kiss still clinging on. Draco watched the action, swallowing the lump that had developed in his throat.

"Well, as much as I love these pitiful accusations, Granger, I really must be off." It took Hermione a moment to register what he'd said, sputtering slightly as he stepped around her.

"But what...what about dinner?" she babbled, wondering why it was difficult for her to form a coherent thought.

"With muggles? You must be joking."

"But…" Hermione couldn't believe the change, couldn't believe that she was talking to the same boy that she'd spent the day with. The same boy that she'd actually enjoyed spending time with. But there was something wrong, something off in the way he spoke to her. His harsh words lacked their bite, were devoid of their sting, and Hermione found they didn't hurt her only confused her.

"Malfoy?" The blonde paused at the door, his shoulders hunched. "Just tell me what that was."

Draco almost turned around and told her, screamed in her face about how much he thought about her. How all those little things that used to drive him mad, were now the reasons he couldn't seem to stay away. He wanted to kiss her, smash his lips against hers so hard, she couldn't argue with him, couldn't question him. She would gasp and breathe his name and miraculously she'd remember that she cared about him too. He almost laughed at the absurdity.

"It was the Sensieve, Granger," He turned, pulling in all the turmoil, all the hurt and sadness and, flashing her his telltale smirk, continued "you should know by now, that I'd never knowingly kiss you. I mean come on," He leant forward and whispered, "You're a filthy little mudblood."

Tears swam in Hermione's eyes, and when the blonde turned away she made no move to stop him, only following him when the lights from the candles floating above her head began to flicker out. Numbly she made her way out of the room with the green pillars just in time to hear her bedroom door click shut. With a sigh, she sank to the floor gazing half-heartedly at the newspaper clippings adorning her wall. She couldn't understand why it upset her so much, he had called her a mudblood more times than she could care to count, he'd also upset her more times than she could count. Why she expected any different from him was beyond her.

Hermione mulled over it, her finger grazing her bottom lip again. She wasn't stupid, she knew with certainty that it wasn't the Sensieve. Edwards kiss had been sure and certain. What she had felt has been unsure, uncertain and soft, so incredibly soft. Hermione buried her head in her hands, suppressing the urge to scream. She'd kissed him back. She'd actually kissed, Draco Malfoy, sworn enemy and arse extraordinaire back and it had felt nice.

Hermione shook her head, trying desperately to dislodge some of the crazy thoughts. It made no sense, she liked Ron, the only person she wanted to kiss was Ron and yet, when Draco had started kissing her, Ron had been the furthest thing from her mind.

Hermione scowled, pushing herself to her feet. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, shaking her head and pacing angrily.

"Mione, sweetheart." Hermione sighed at the sound of her mother's voice, turning to watch her walk into her secret room. "Everything alright?"

"It's fine, Mom." She mumbled, turning to hide the tears still swimming in her eyes.

"Oh sweetheart." Her mother answered, walking in front of her and enveloping her in a warm hug. Hermione's bottom lip wobbled, but she refused to let herself cry over the arse of a Slytherin. "What happened?"

"Malfoy is a jerk, that's what happened." Hermione spat, pulling away slightly, refusing to meet her mother's' concerned gaze.

"He seemed awfully upset when he left." Hermione scoffed slightly, thinking it was just typical that the pureblood would make it all about him.

"Of course he did." She muttered sardonically, turning away from her mother and pacing the room.

"Mione, sweetie, did he say something?" Hermione paused, sighing at her mother's words. Of course, the Slytherin had said something, he always said something. Hermione shook her head slightly.

"No more than usual." She stepped out of her secret room, falling heavily onto her bed. "He just runs away all the time." Hermione contemplated telling her mother all that had happened, thinking wistfully that it would be nice to share to with someone, a weight off her shoulders. She could see her mother wanted to ask more questions but a tapping on the window interrupted their conversation.

A grin spread across Hermione's face at the sight of a small owl circling excitedly outside her bedroom window, a letter clutched in its talons.

"Pig." She breathed excitedly, opening the window and letting in the feathered rocket, watching as he zoomed about bouncing off various pieces of furniture.

"Well, she's a lively one isn't she." Hermione's mother muttered, nodding towards the tiny bird.

"He, Mom, his name's Pig." She nodded slightly, crossing her arms.

"So what does this, Pig have to say?" Hermione muttered a curse under her breath, as she realised how difficult it would be to pry the letter from the bird, what with its inability to keep even remotely still. Before Hermione could come up with a plan, and curse Ronald Weasley for holding the record for world's strangest pets, Pig settled down on her mother's shoulder, nibbling gently at her ears.

"Oh isn't he a sweetheart." Her mother cooed, gently rubbing Pig's front, while he puffed out his feathers and cooed happily.

"Hmm, yes," Hermione muttered suspiciously retrieving the letter, her eyes not leaving the strange spectacle of stationary Pig. Hermione almost squealed in delight at the letter from Ginny, inviting her to stay with the Weasley clan, as the young redhead suggested that the company was 'woefully boring', and that secret things were going on that Hermione would probably want to know about.

Hermione could have kissed Ginny, the redhead had perfect timing. Being with the Weasleys would be a welcome distraction.

"Mom can I?" She asked, pushing the letter into her mother's hands, already eyeing which books she wanted to take with her. Mrs Granger read the letter quickly, looking up at her daughter and sighing. While she loved having her little girl around for the holidays, she also knew that spending time with her magical friends was important. She just wished they didn't live so far away.

"It's fine with me, but you'll have to okay it with your Dad." She stated, placing the letter on Hermione's bed and sitting down next to it. Pig cooed again, nudging her ear.

"Okay, what with me?" Her father stepped into the doorway, a scowl etched across his forehead. "If it's about that boy, he is not coming here again. Downright rude if you ask me, walking out when your mother's prepared such a lovely dinner, and through the fire of all places" Mr Granger grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

"I'm sure he had his reasons, Richard. He did look awfully upset."

"He'll be upset about my boot up his…"

"Can I go stay with the Weasley's? Ginny asked me." Hermione interrupted, wanting to steer both the conversation and her thoughts away from a certain blonde Slytherin. She grabbed the letter and pressed it into her father's hands, smiling sweetly up at him. Her father perused the letter, the frown on his forehead growing ever deeper.

"But what about the dentist convention." Hermione tried to look disappointed about missing the convention. The truth was her parents had taken her ever since she could remember, in the desperate bid that it might spark some sort of interest, the truth was it had succeeded in doing the opposite.

"It think the convention is the last thing on Mione's mind, didn't you read? The company is woefully boring...woefully." Mrs Granger said, scratching the top of Pig's head and smirking. Hermione decided to ignore the sarcasm lacing her mother's voice. Mrs Granger had known for some time that the Dentist Convention was, about as enjoyable as pulling teeth for her daughter, and she found it rather amusing.

"Well, I suppose you can go." Mr Granger sighed, folding up the letter and looking at his daughter pointedly. "But you write every day.."

"Not everyday dear, try to have fun." Mrs Granger cut in, smirking slightly as her husband bristled.

"Every other day then." He stated, pointing his finger at Hermione. She nodded enthusiastically, doing her best to suppress a grin.

"Write when you can." Mrs Granger added, standing up and kissing her daughter's head. "Talk to Ginny, hmm." She smoothed down Hermione's hair, placing Pig on her shoulder. "You'll feel better."

Hermione bit her bottom lip and nodded. She had no intention of telling anyone, anything. Not about the Sensieve, not about her and Malfoy's secret meetings and most definitely, without any shadow of a doubt, she had no intention of ever relaying the fact that they had kissed. The memory alone was enough to send her heart stuttering in her chest, and she suppressed the overwhelming urge to let her face fall into the palm of her hand.

"Talk to Ginny about what?" Mr Granger asked, as both her parents walked out the door.

"Nothing, girl stuff." Mrs Granger answered, waving a hand in the air and rubbing his back. Hermione's bedroom door close with a soft click.

"What girl stuff?" Came Mr Granger's muffled reply, Hermione couldn't hear the rest as they made their way downstairs.

With a sigh, Hermione placed Pig on her dressing table and began to pack. Every time her thoughts strayed towards Malfoy she would shake her head, concentrating on the list of items she needed to take with her. It was not an easy task, and packing took much longer it usually did. Eventually, though, everything was ready, and in her hand, she held the scroll that Malfoy had given her on the train.

She passed the parchment gently between her fingers, wondering what the blonde was doing at that precise moment. She was certain he wouldn't try to contact her again, not after the way he'd reacted and she couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. Granted he was an arse, a changeable arse, that kept her guessing and was impossible to understand. But he was also nice, in his own pompous, self-assured way, nice and funny and not at all what she'd expected.

After much deliberation, Hermione tucked the scroll into the front pocket of her bag, shaking her head at her own stupidity, but leaving it there regardless. He wouldn't contact. But if he did she wanted answers.

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