She was instantly cross with herself for thinking such things.
"Those gloves are useless. You'd think with the donations the school's been receiving from the Governors, we'd be able to afford better equipment," Malfoy was saying. He pulled out the embedded barbs, ignoring her when she winced.
When she looked up at him again, he was watching her as if she were a particularly interesting potions experiment which was coming along nicely. He still had a smudge of wet dirt over one cheekbone and on the bridge of his nose. It didn' t make him look less elegant. If anything, the blemished reinforced the fineness of his features and the glacier-like clarity of his eyes. Hermione resisted the urge to thumb the streak of dirt away.
It was the same instinct that made her try and flatten Harry's hair earlier. The only difference was that Harry didn't make her feel like her stomach had become a nest of Doxies.
"Better?" Malfoy asked softly, so close that she could almost count the flecks of blue around his irises.
"Yes." Hermione tugged her hand away. It was still throbbing.
Now he looked covetous, as if he was once again being offered a treat he had little experience in, and was suddenly eager to learn more about. It was like their odd interlude at the Manor, only he was staring at her with more purpose. And this time, Toolip was not around to offer rescue.
Oh no, not again.
"No," Hermione immediately said, backing up, not quite knowing what she was denying him, but thinking that she would have to articulate her lack of cooperation before he carried out whatever it was he had in mind.
"Malfoy," she said again, and this time he shook his head, as if he didn't believe her. She made a protesting noise, smaller than she would have liked.
He pulled her to him, and it was like being pressed up against a cement wall. "Just a little reminder," he whispered, cajoled even. Hermione had no idea if the plea was meant for her or for himself.
Good Lord. He was kissing her. It was a deep, thorough kiss. As if he was trying to bring foggy memories and sensations to the fore, if only to assume better control over them.
He hated not remembering. Hermione knew this about him.
She felt clumsy and uncoordinated. His nose bumped against hers and his tongue slid past the clamped vise of her lips. He smelled like books and apple and wood smoke.
His hands, which had held her to him like a steel brand against her lower back were now relaxed as they slid up to cup the base of her head just under her ponytail. Pausing the kiss so that they could take in air, he moved his mouth down along her jaw to the soft, sensitive spot just under her ear.
Scream, her brain urged. Shove him off and run back to the greenhouse. There was a steady, whooshing noise in her ears which she guessed was the sound of her blood rushing to her head. Her soil splattered hands were clutching tightly at his back.
Abruptly, he stopped and pulled away. His pupils were dilated, and his eyes were now as dark as the rain clouds that hung in the sky over them. Feeling immensely light-headed, Hermione went with him, not trusting her knees to hold her up. The look he gave her was disturbing and intense. And angry. For a brief moment, he held her against him, her forehead resting against his shoulder while they both caught their breath.
Malfoy was shaking slightly, she realised. Hermione was in complete wonderment at the havoc that the spell was wreaking on both their nervous systems.
He took a step away from her and this time, she did not follow.
"Granger, you might just be Hogwarts' s best kept secret," he quietly informed, with an easy cruelty that pierced through the heady intensity of their kiss. He adjusted the front of his pants without looking away from her, challenging her to be embarrassed.
She met his stare, letting her loathing bleed into her eyes. Everything he did seemed calculated. His deceiving civility and the kiss that followed had been an experiment, nothing more, a diversion to take away the humdrum of daily life. Hermione was quite certain that if she spent the next decade learning everything she possibly could about Draco Malfoy, he would still surprise her.
They didn't speak on the walk back to the castle, which felt like an eternity. She might have wondered