Narcissa's Time Turner

Chapter 7: Against Cold Stone Walls

Classes had begun in full force and as expected, this year was far more difficult than the last. It made sense, since sixth years all turn 17 and thus come of age at some point during this year. It was the first time professors felt they could amp up their lessons to include more complicated, "adult" content such as more violent history. There were many papers to write, but Draco had done all these papers once in the past and naturally was going to excel beyond his previous self this year. He could even give extra scrolls of parchment in his sleep. The reason he found himself in the library today was therefore not for school but for personal research. 

Draco loved this corner of the restricted section. Only top students like himself were granted access, so it was remarkably quiet. Large oaken bookshelves rested against beige stone walls. The restricted section was smaller than other parts of the library, with the bookshelves naturally closer together forming a literary labyrinth. It was common for new prefects to become lost among the winding forbidden shelves, and only emerge hours later having missed a class. The musty smell of truly ancient books hung in the air. Unlike the rest of the library, there were no bright lights and clusters of tables for easy group study here. There were only small wall sconces, and individual desks nestled among the shelves out of sight of other desks. Whoever designed this section knew the readers would not want others to be seeing their book titles over their shoulders. 

Hermione had studied at a different table than usual yesterday as her favorite was taken, and left her best quill behind within the desk. She huffed at the thought she could have been so careless with that trusty quill which had seen her through studying for so many difficult exams. It had a charm on it that allowed her to write even faster than usual, writing as fast as she could think. It would be dreadful if someone were to nick it. Draco was currently at that desk, but since he had been more tolerable lately she thought he wouldn't mind moving for just a moment. 

Hermione lightly tapped Draco on the shoulder while he was immersed in his book, taking him completely by surprise. She only did so because she hated when people spoke in the library, and especially despised those who would speak to each other in the restricted section. Some of these books were dangerous to handle, after all, and distracting someone could result in serious harm. 

Draco's every nerve electrified when he felt Hermione's delicate hand on his shoulder. His body recognized her as his mate even though she had not yet accepted him. His veela purred loudly, the rumbling noise overwhelming his every thought and feeling. In an instant he had her wrists in his and pinned her against the cold stone walls. The left sleeve of his robes fell down with the action, exposing his muscled arm to the cold castle air but he felt no chill. Rather, he felt warmer than ever. He could feel Hermione's heartbeat in her wrists, and it was becoming very fast. 

Draco's own heart was thudding out of his chest. His veela was going wild. He could smell her so well in this confined space, and it was driving him mad. Now he knew what Amortentia would smell like to him: old books, lavender soap, and vine wood. He wanted more than anything to hold her, to kiss her, to bite her...No!

The youngest Malfoy started to regain his sanity. His fractured soul was really affecting him now, making him lose control of his emotional and mental state. The deep brokenness in his chest throbbed painfully. He couldn't tell her his inner veela had taken total control once his mate had entered his sanctuary. Draco scrambled for a believable excuse in his mind.

"Sorry... My father taught me self-defense. Instincts kicked in," he whispered, trying not to disturb anyone else who might be in the restricted section. 

He hated lying to her, but he couldn't tell her yet what situation she was in. If she knew he would die a painful death without her, she would give in out of pity even if she still hated him. He loved her too much to force this on her. If he couldn't win her, it was his own fault. 

She looked everywhere but his eyes, breathing hard, and swallowed loudly. Draco had heard many a time that he was incredibly handsome, but had thought it was all people buttering him up because he came from such a wealthy family. Now that he knew he was not only part veela but that the veela had manifested within him, he knew he must have an otherwordly pull that was especially strong on women. Draco intended to use everything at his disposal to his advantage. After all, there would be no third chances. She finally looked up, and his grey eyes bored into hers for a long moment. How many seconds has he been holding her like this, one, ten, twenty? She had no idea. 

Hermione hated herself for feeling what she was feeling. She hated how he smelled like peppermint and sandalwood, probably some stupidly expensive cologne. How could she think Malfoy was this attractive? It was unnatural to be so pale in the face, to have such silken platinum blonde hair it was almost white, to posses these gray stormy eyes. His eyes looked a warmer tone of gray than usual, in the yellow light from the sconces... Hermione couldn't believe she had such thoughts. When had she started paying close attention to his metallic, shining eyes? He said a couple nice words to her after years of cruelty and suddenly he's beautiful? He heals one bruise and suddenly he's good enough? No matter how smart he was, Draco Malfoy was still prejudiced and cruel. 

She cursed herself for being as stupid as Pansy Parkinson and all the other girls that hung around him for his looks alone. She had heard Draco really knew how to get around. That, or a myriad of girls had lied about snogging the Slytherin Prince. Every girl in the rumors had been a pureblood. She couldn't forget that she knew he must hate her, and think she's dirty and less than by virtue of her birth. She couldn't forget all the times he had called her a mudblood, or antagonized her best friends. So why couldn't she stop staring at the exposed arm holding her wrist, and why didn't she break free?

He put one of his hands under her chin before he could stop himself, lifting it up to see if she was alright, and if she had hatred or something else in her eyes. She immediately slapped his hand away.

"It's fine, just let me go now," she said with a trembling voice. Hermione Granger, defender of library silence, even forgot to whisper. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but Draco thought that wasn't what she really wanted. He had gotten a glimpse into her eyes and thought he saw something akin to wonder there, and certainly not disgust. He quickly released her wrists and she rubbed them absentmindedly. He sat back down at the desk, as if nothing had happened, and began to take notes in a journal-like book. Draco thought this was the least awkward course of action, as he couldn't let her know just how shaken he was.

Hermione left before he could even ask what she had wanted, why she had tapped him. The encounter must have flustered her as much as it did him. She was blushing hard, that he knew, but she would probably do that if anyone had grabbed her wrists. Draco opened the desk drawer to see if there was any spare ink, and to his surprise a beautiful green quill was within. When he picked it up, he could feel the faint presence of some kind of enchantment. 

Who would leave an enchanted quill behind? Enchanted quills were usually banned at Hogwarts, though students still smuggled them in and used charms to correct spelling or calculate arithmancy to cheat on tests. This just might be what Hermione had wanted from him; it would certainly make sense. He decided to pocket the quill for now. After all, he was a prefect, he had good reason to confiscate such an object. He could show her the quill later. He grinned into his journal at the excuse to see her again.