A Day and A Night

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Chapter 6: A Bathroom and a Broom:

“Do you want that last chip?” he asked her.

Draco and Hermione were sitting on the bed in their motel room, approximately an hour after they had started eating, and though he was done with his food, and most of hers, she still had one chip left, and he apparently coveted it.

“It’s halfway to my mouth, so yes, I want it,” she answered incredulously. She had the last chip from her box in her hand, heading toward her mouth.

“I’m just saying, if you don’t want it I’ll take it,” he said.

“Malfoy, don’t be dense, it’s unbecoming,” she barked. The chip was almost to her mouth again when he grabbed her wrist.

“Let’s think about this for a moment,” he said. He turned so that his whole body was facing hers, his fingers still tightly around her right wrist. “I want the last chip, and you want it. How shall we solve this dilemma? What do you think would be fair?”

She paused, then said, “It's my chip. You ate all of your own, some of mine, all of your fish, all of mine, so I say I get it. Let go of my wrist.”

“Now, if you were truly the paragon of virtue that everyone deems you to be, you would at least split it with me,” he surmised. He smirked and raised one eyebrow.

She wondered how he did that. She couldn’t smirk if she tried, and she'd never been able to raise one eyebrow independently of the other. She put the chip in her other hand as her answer to his ‘paragon of virtue’ comment. He grabbed that wrist, too. He was now on his knees on the bed in front of her. She was sitting in front of him, her wrists held by his hands.

“Draco Malfoy, let go!” she said, although she almost laughed. Almost.

“Let me have one bite,” he said in almost a whine.

“You can’t still be hungry!” she spat.

He pouted a bit and said, “I’m a growing boy, Granger, and I AM still hungry!” He leaned forward and tried to bite it right out of her hand, but she was stronger than she looked and she pulled her hand right out of his grasp. She held it away, but he grabbed her hand again. He pulled her so that she was up on her knees, facing him.

They both tugged back and forth, and he almost had her hand toward his mouth when she decided to play dirty. She pushed her whole body into his, and he toppled to his back. In his shock, he let go of her left hand, which held the fated chip. She tried to put it in her mouth again, but he suddenly rolled them, so that she was on her back, and he loomed over her.

Then he grabbed her hand, moved his head, and he ate half of the chip. They both laughed, and then at the exact same moment they realized that they were in a compromising position. He stared intently down at her. She stared just as intently up at him. His chest was pressing into her breasts. His hands still held her wrists. His legs were over to the side on the mattress, so his entire weight wasn’t on her, but still, she was breathing hard, and he felt every breath, every heartbeat, and each beat of her pulse.

She dropped the rest of the chip and it fell to the mattress by her head. She took even, steady breaths, which he counted…one, two, three. Then he leaned toward her, his breath mingling with hers, her lips full and inviting. He wanted to kiss her, but before he could act on what he was about to do, he let go of her hand, moved off her as if she was on fire, and stomped off to the bathroom and shut the door. He even locked it.

She stayed on her back and stared at the door of the bathroom for what felt like forever. She felt embarrassed. She also felt aroused. She felt some of the things she felt with Milo Dorchester earlier, minus the fear and apprehension. Surely, she wasn’t attracted to Prince Rude, was she?

And was he going to kiss her when he leaned forward? Hermione sat up, and thought about it. She swore he was about to kiss her. What would she have done? Would she have kissed Draco Malfoy? They didn’t even like each other, did they? She looked down at the abandoned chip, put it in the bag with the rest of the trash, and then she stood up and grabbed her jacket and wand. She went over to get her phone, and then she stood outside the bathroom door.

She wanted to ask him if he was alright, but she realized that would be in vain, so she went over to the door of the room, opened it, and walked outside.

He ran in the bathroom to hide from her. He felt so stupid and sexually frustrated, as well as embarrassed, but perhaps she didn’t know he was about to kiss her. Perhaps she thought it was all just horseplay. It was the most arousing horseplay he had ever experienced, but she couldn’t have felt the same. He heard the outside door open and he opened the bathroom door right after.

She left. He grimaced and cursed, grabbed his jacket and wand, and he ran out the door of the motel. He saw her walking down the street.

He caught up to her in no time. The sky was a dark grey, and the clouds towered high above them in colours of grey, white, black and even blue. It looked like it might rain. It was colder than it was earlier, and she had her arms tightly around her to ward of the cold when he reached her side. He had his jacket in his hand instead of on his body, so he offered it to her by hitting her arm with the hand holding the jacket.

“Take my jacket, you’re cold.” He continued to hold his jacket out in front of him.

“You’ll be cold,” she said back. “I have a jacket on.”

“See, Granger, this is a selfless act. Take the effing jacket. If you had just given me your last chip, which also would have been known as selfless, nothing would have happened back there,” he accused. He knew that didn’t make any sense. He knew he was a coward to blame her for the fact that he now felt like a horse’s arse for ‘almost’ kissing her, and for hiding in the bathroom instead.

She stopped walking, took his jacket, and even though she wanted to throw it on the ground and stomp all over it, she slipped it over her shoulders. She pointed across the street and said, “There are some docks over there. We should go there and see if we can rent a boat to cross the gully to get to Glendora tomorrow.” She was pointing toward some small boats and docks.

He nodded and then began to jog across the street; absentmindedly he grabbed her upper arm and towed her along, as if she wouldn’t follow otherwise. It was surprising to him how protective he was already becoming of her, and how it already felt like a natural thing.

Once they reached the docks, they walked over to a man who was on a small fishing vessel. “Sir,” Hermione started. The man looked up at her as they stood on one of the docks and he stood on the deck of a boat. “Do you know anyone who might have a boat for hire, or who might take us somewhere in a boat tomorrow, for money, of course?”

“Where are you two wantin’ to go, Lass?” the man asked.

“Glendora,” she said. “We were going to drive, but we understand we would have had to have taken a ferry across the Loch anyway, and we’ve experienced some car problems, so we thought we might take a boat.”

The man frowned and said, “Aye, I heard ye where in town, looking for a way to get over there. I doubt anyone here will take ye. Go back to London, where ye belong.” He threw his rope upon the wooden plank, and Draco leaned down to secure the line for the man.

He nodded his thanks, finished the job, and then nodded again and left. Hermione turned to Draco and said, “Well, we can’t drive, no one will drive us, we can’t Apparate, and now we can’t take a boat. How in the hell are we going to get to there?”

Draco smiled and said, “We’ll fly.” He pointed to a mop on the deck of the little fishing vessel.

“A mop?” she asked.

Draco knocked his fist on her forehead and said, “Use that thing between your ears for something besides facts and figures, Princess. We’ll charm a couple of brooms, and we’ll fly. Simple. I’m surprise you didn’t think of it, after all, you’re the brains of our operation, and I’m the looks.” Draco started back toward the street and Hermione was right behind.

“You’re the looks?” she asked as she caught up to him. They walked side by side back down the cobblestone street and he smiled over at her bashfully.

“Your looks aren’t bad or anything, but mine are legendary, and let’s face it, you’re known for your intelligence,” he reminded.

“I’m known for my smarts, but not my looks, right, I know,” she said softly. She stopped to look in a window of an empty storefront. She was looking at her reflection.

He walked back toward her and said, “Your looks aren’t bad, though.” He thought that was an understatement, but he wouldn't tell her that.

“Yes, as you said,” she reminded him. She stared at his reflection in the window and she couldn’t help but smile. “And you know, Draco, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, that my looks aren’t bad.”

“Don’t get used to it, and don’t get a swelled head,” he said with a crooked grin.

“Adrian said he was attracted to my mind first,” she stated. “He said my looks were inconsequential to him.”

“Bully for Adrian,” Draco said without humour. Adrian was a ponce in Draco’s opinion.

She turned back to face him as a gush of wind blew her hair in her face. He didn’t think her looks were inconsequential. He reached up and smoothed down her hair so that it was no longer flying in her face.

She shivered again, not from the wind and cold, but this time it was from the intimacy of his touch. She hurried past him, confused by everything about him. Why did he just smooth down her hair? Why did he grab her arm when they crossed the street? Why did he almost kiss her on the bed earlier? Why did she feel safe and secure when he was near? She didn’t even want to think about it all. This was Draco Malfoy!

To change the subject, in her mind at least, she asked, “Where will we find the brooms?”

“If there’s not a general store, we’ll steal them, everyone has brooms,” he reasoned, walking beside her again. He looked over at her and she looked worried, and he knew she was thinking about more than just the brooms, and he also knew he was thinking about the same thing she was. He was letting himself get too close to her. Why in the hell did he touch her hair? He was letting his guard down. He was being careless. He would have to be more careful.

“What if Muggles see us? Don’t you think a couple of strangers flying around on brooms might scare them more than the creepy people of Glendora?” she asked.

“We’ll leave at midnight. The cover of darkness will help disguise us. Yes, darkness is our friend, Granger.” He kept walking but she had stopped again.

He was almost to their motel before he noticed that she was no longer walking beside him. He jaunted back to her, as she sat on a bench outside the pub.

“What now, Princess?” he asked. He plopped down next to her.

“I’m not the best flyer,” she admitted.

“No… do tell,” he said slyly and with a smile. “I recall that from school, but really, there’s nothing to it, and it’s our best solution. We'll have to get special permission from the Ministry, clearance if you will, to charm the brooms, to make them flyers, but Harry Potter should be good for something. He can go to the Department of Broom regulations and push through the paperwork. We'll contact him as soon as we get back to the room.”

He knocked his shoulder into hers and said, “And don't worry about flying. You can do it. You probably can do anything, right?”

“Not really, no,” she said solemnly. “I can’t keep a boyfriend.”

Draco didn’t know what to say to that statement. He looked down at his hands, which he had clasped together in his lap. “What happened to you and Adrian?”

“Have you ever done something that you knew wasn’t right, but you did it anyway?” she asked, instead of answering his question.

“Well, hell, Princess, that’s been my primary way of acting most of my life,” he answered flippantly. “What does that have to do with you and Adrian?”

“I knew we weren’t right together, but I wanted to make it work anyway,” she answered. “That’s all.” She stood up and stretched. It was an innocent, natural movement, but he watched her intently…the way her breasts rose when she stretched her arms in the air, and the way her neck leaned to one side, showing the long, creamy white column. Now he shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold either.

His jacket slipped off her shoulders and fell to the ground. He stayed on the bench and reached down for it. “Sorry,” she said.

He nodded, because words wouldn’t come to him at that moment even if he tried. He slipped his arms into his jacket and stood up. He stood in front of her, and instead of saying what he wanted to say he said, “Last one to the motel has to kiss Harry Potter on the lips the next time they see him. GO!” He turned from her and dashed down the street. She laughed and followed.

He slowed down so she could catch up to him, but he wasn’t about to let her win, because there was no way in hell he would ever kiss Potter, even if his life depended on it. He acted as if he had a stitch in his side, and he stopped, bent over, and said, “Oh no, you’re going to win,” as she ran by him.

Then, she did something that shocked him. She stopped, too. She turned around, her hair wild around her head again, her cheeks rosy and flushed from exertion, her eyes shining bright. She walked back toward him and said, “Are you okay?” She placed her hand on his back.

He stood up, but her hand remained. He thought she was the oddest person he had ever known in his life. He said, “You are a paragon of bloody virtue, Granger.” Then he pushed her slightly, laughed, and ran ahead of her. He reached the edge of the motel and turned back and said, “I win! I swear you’re so gullible! That was an act!”

“Forgive me for caring,” she said as she walked toward him, her hand on her side, nursing a true stitch. “I don’t mind losing. I’ve kissed Harry before.”

Draco had a look of total and complete disgust on his face and he said, “Please, I already think I might throw up from all the fish and chips I ate, and then from running just now, but if you give me the mental image of you and Potter kissing, well, I really will lose it.”

She made a kissing noise toward him and said, “It wasn’t that sort of kiss, Malfoy.”

“You don’t know what sort of kiss my mind is imaging,” he argued. “Nevertheless, anything involving Potter and lips makes me sick.”

“At least you didn’t say anything to do with me and lips make you sick,” she said as she slid past him to their door. She stopped short and announced, “I’m having a flashback. I think I’m afraid to open the door.”

“Afraid Potter will be in there with his lips at the ready?” he asked dryly. He went to unlock the door with his wand.

“No, I’m afraid there'll be a murdered woman in the room,” she said.

“Oh,” he uttered. He actually pushed her behind his body again, which she thought was sort of sweet, and then he unlocked the door with his wand. He opened the knob slowly, and pushed the door in. He took one step forward, and leaned in to look around.

He said, “The coast is clear. No dead bodies, no Veela/Vampires, and no Harry Potters.”

He stepped in the room and she stayed in the doorway. She said, “What are we going to do until Midnight? I don’t think I can look at another file regarding the case, I just don’t know if I can. I’m not hungry, I’m not tired, and apparently Harry’s not around for me to snog. It’s only three in the afternoon. What shall we do?”

He raised his brows and said, “If it’s snogging you want, there was a toothless beggar at the pub who looked your type. I could fetch him for you.”

“I could kiss you,” she said lightly. She laughed and pushed her way into the room.

 He stood near the doorway, looking outside, away from her, with his mouth agape. Was she joking? Please, she had to be joking.

He turned slowly, and when she saw the look on his face she said, “My goodness, Malfoy, I was joking. You look as if someone killed your favourite pet. Is the thought of kissing me that horrendous? If it is, just run and hide in the bathroom again.”

She kicked off her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed. She picked up the remote from the middle of the mattress and turned on the television.

He slammed the door hard and said, “I didn’t hide in the bathroom to avoid kissing you, Granger, although, kissing you wasn’t even in the cards, understand? I wouldn’t kiss you if you were the last woman, oh hell…” He couldn’t finish his thought. He sat beside her and picked up the remote and turned off the television. He said, “Okay, I hid from you, because I thought I wanted to kiss you earlier. How bizarre is that? I mean, seriously, the thought of us kissing is as farfetched as Potter and I kissing.”

“Harry is a pretty good kisser, you might like it,” she said, though she felt totally mortified. He never really wanted to kiss her earlier, so now she felt like such a fool. She looked down at the carpeting. It was an ugly orange colour, and it had large stains all over it. “And I was joking. I know you would never want to kiss me, not seriously.” She stood up and walked deliberately toward the bathroom.

She continued, “I’ll take a bath now, so I’ll be ready for tonight. You go out and find us some brooms.” She shut and locked the bathroom door.

He turned on the television, lay back on the bed, and stared up the ceiling. There was a large water stain right above the bed. How disgusting. He said in a whisper, “Who ran and hid in the bathroom to avoid a kiss this time, Princess?”

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