novelraw Chapter 125: The Ancient Runes Dictionary
Chapter 125: The Ancient Runes Dictionary
The turmoil stemming from Krum, Hermione, and Draco didn't last long.
Admittedly, when students discussed their dance partners, they might occasionally mention the matter in passing, but there was always newer gossip accompanying the rising sun.
Aside from the parties involved, who would cling to a tiny bit of old gossip forever?
The first day of the Christmas holidays was a sunny Saturday. Early that morning, Hermione woke to find Lavender and Parvati whispering behind the curtains of their four-poster beds about their new dance partners.
"Yesterday, someone else tried to invite Fleur Delacour and failed miserably," Parvati said. "Someone from our school. Guess who?"
"I know. It's Ron!" Lavender said. "I saw him sitting in the common room—pale, terrified, like he'd been hit with a Stunning Spell."
Parvati burst into giggles. "Rather embarrassing, isn't it?"
"Oh, I think it's quite sweet," Lavender said with a grin. "These days, how many boys would dare loudly invite a girl to dance in front of everyone—in a busy corridor? I admire his courage."
"Sweet? I still think Cedric Diggory is far sweeter. So, who did he invite?"
"How would I know that?" Lavender said cheerfully. "All I know is that our Gryffindor champion has invited you! What did I tell you before? You're sure to be at the center of the dance floor for the opening dance!"
"Don't be too obvious about it, Lavender—I have to keep a low profile..." Parvati said with a chuckle.
"Hey, who do you think Krum's partner is?" Lavender asked in a low voice.
"Oh—Hermione, who are you going to the Yule Ball with?" Parvati lifted the curtain, trying to satisfy her gossipy nature by getting some information from the girl next door.
However, the bed next to theirs was empty.
"Look at her! She runs faster than a rabbit!" Parvati said, pursing her lips. "I genuinely don't know why Krum would invite her! She's probably over the moon about it. She'll definitely want to go to the Ball with Krum."
"Oh, I'm not sure about that. I heard yesterday that Krum's partner spot is still vacant," Lavender said, glancing at Hermione's empty bed.
"I suppose Krum gave up on inviting Hermione. I always said it was just a fleeting fancy; he probably acted on impulse," Parvati said. "It can't be Hermione who turned him down—who could refuse Krum?"
"I suppose not," Lavender said doubtfully, recalling the Slytherin boy's frequent glances at Hermione during Potions, and Hermione's stiff posture and intensely concerned expression.
"That means Krum's admirers still have a chance," Parvati said with interest. "My sister Padma is planning a chance encounter with Krum. Any ideas?"
"Did she try running into him in the library?" Lavender asked.
"No, by the Black Lake," Parvati said. "Krum's been taking walks by the Black Lake lately."
Indeed, Krum seemed to have given up on the library—it had returned to its usual quiet—which came as a considerable relief to Hermione Granger as she wandered among the bookshelves.
The library was deserted, save for the soft sound of Madam Pince dusting somewhere in an unseen corner. Hermione, breathing in the familiar scent of parchment among the bookshelves, finally found peace of mind.
Throughout Hogwarts, few students were eager to rush to the library on the first morning of the Christmas holidays. Most were making the most of the last week before the Yule Ball, wandering every corner of Hogwarts Castle in search of a dance partner.
Which meant that, at this moment and in this place, nothing and no one could disturb her academic pursuits.
Finish the arduous Ancient Runes assignment in one go, sitting in the favorite window seat!
I will never think about that awful boy who is so presumptuous, so controlling, and so dreadfully difficult to resist! The girl clenched her fists as she searched the shelves, making this solemn vow.
So Hermione searched and searched, making her way to the corner of the bookshelf. She swayed from side to side, tiptoeing, trying to reach the enormous book on the shelf above her head—A Dictionary of Ancient Runes.
Suddenly, a shadow carrying the scent of cedar quietly enveloped her.
A slender hand plucked the book from a position slightly above her reach.
The owner of the hand spoke. His languid voice carried a slight smile: "This one?"
The sound made Hermione freeze.
With a tumult of feelings in her heart, she turned around stiffly, and what came into view was a head of dazzling platinum blond hair, slightly smiling eyes, and the light-curved lips of a young man.
His lips curved into a smile, releasing an irresistible allure.
"How did you know I was here?" Hermione asked in a panic, looking away and attempting to slip off, but the boy suddenly blocked her path by placing his arms on either side of the bookshelf.
"If you're not here, where else would you be?" He seemed to have a hidden meaning in his words, his voice extremely calm.
Hermione felt deeply uneasy. She glanced at his arms on either side of her, and realising she had no way out, had no choice but to face his bright, warm grey eyes fixed upon her.
"Move aside, Draco," Hermione said firmly, her back stiffening against the bookshelf as she realized she was being studied by those eyes.
Please, Draco, don't come any closer like that, don't look me in the eyes...
Otherwise, I won't be able to keep a straight face...
This hopeless affection for you... I probably can't hide it much longer. She lamented inwardly.
"No." He refused to move, his gaze piercing.
He was incredibly stubborn, holding onto her eyes with his own clear, translucent ones, as if trying to lock her soul in place and force out her true feelings.
She couldn't reveal her feelings! Otherwise, she'd end up like those other girls, getting hurt mercilessly. Hermione silently warned herself.
She sighed, and with considerable self-control, managed to pull her wandering eyes from his gaze, letting them drift to his pointed chin, and finally managed to find her voice again.
"What—what do you want?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"I'm fairly certain you're avoiding me." He lowered his head slightly and spoke to her, enunciating each word clearly.
His breath was like a gentle breeze, brushing against the fine hairs on her cheeks, making her feel a ticklish sensation.
Draco frowned slightly, watching her rapidly fluttering eyelashes, and asked with resolve, "Tell me—why?"
"I—I didn't—I wasn't hiding from you." Hermione shook her head in denial, unsure of where to put her hands.
This cruelly charming young man was so close. So close that she could fall into his arms at any moment. His arms were practically surrounding her.
The most terrifying thing was that she could feel some sort of undercurrent of attraction in every pore of her body.
It seemed as though his arms and chest were releasing a positive magnetic force toward her, the negative pole; and she was struggling desperately to control herself, not to be suddenly pulled in like a useless Summoning Charm on an unwilling object.
Hermione frantically traced the spines of the books on the shelf behind her. This action did little to reduce the electric current surging through her body and mind; instead, it made her heartbeat fluctuate wildly, just like the uneven rows of books.
"Nonsense." His pointed chin bobbed up and down as he spoke. "Since last Thursday, you haven't said a proper word to me, and you pretend not to see me when you do. You've stopped being my partner in Potions, and you sit as far away from me as possible—"
Draco felt uneasy.
Things shouldn't be like this—it was completely different from what he had envisioned.
She was his partner for the Yule Ball, wasn't she? Shouldn't they be like the others—finding an empty classroom to practice dancing, instead of ignoring each other and bickering like this?
"I—I apologize, all right?" he said sincerely. "I shouldn't have turned him down on your behalf. I—acted impulsively."
"Oh. Fine," she said dismissively, without looking up.
"What did I do wrong? Did I upset you? You can tell me directly," he asked anxiously.
"It's nothing, I just—" she still didn't dare look up, and said in a muffled voice, "I haven't sorted out some things yet."
"What things?" Draco asked, his tone softening with concern.
"Just—things." Hermione was so distracted by the cedar scent emanating from him that her answers were becoming increasingly vague. She needed to find a way out before her true feelings were revealed.
For Draco, the girl's evasiveness stirred up a surge of frustration.
He should have been more gentle and calm with her; he didn't want to be harsh. But at this moment, the sting of his pride being overlooked was too much, along with a faint sense of panic—he seemed to be losing his grasp on her thoughts.
Her thoughts seemed to drift further and further from him. She seemed to want to conceal herself entirely.
"I don't like your attitude. Why won't you even look me in the eye?" Draco's temper was ignited by this disregard, and he finally abandoned all pretense of gentlemanly behavior.
"Lift your head and look at me!" he said sharply, tilting her chin with one hand and forcibly raising her face—their eyes finally met.
Hermione Granger! You're right in front of me—where do you think you're going? You're not getting away! His inner voice roared.
Their eyes met unexpectedly. Hermione's breath caught in her throat.
She could hear her own heartbeat—it was simply illogical.
She could see his eyelashes clearly, and the burning gaze beneath them. Those usually indifferent eyes held a hint of anger, and a deep scrutiny.
He was studying her eyes; he was analyzing every single element within them.
"It's over," Hermione lamented inwardly. Was her affection for him about to be exposed?
In Draco's eyes, the girl's gentle gaze was completely visible. His own face was reflected within them.
Then he noticed that a faint, misty blush had suddenly appeared on her fair, translucent face—like a green apple catching sunlight—with a rare and alluring warmth.
They looked at each other in silence.
Draco had already planned to speak to Hermione as soon as possible and practice dancing with her.
As Yule Ball partners, they needed to be familiar with each other's movements and rhythms, didn't they?
But the moment the living, breathing Hermione Granger stood before him, his mind went blank. The thought snapped apart.
For days, he had longed to be closer to her, yet she had remained elusive and unpredictable; now, here in his arms, she could no longer ignore him.
He was finally able to look at her properly—this girl who always tried to hide herself.
Those eyelashes, how thick and long they were, how they gleamed with a subtle golden shimmer in the light. Those warm, chocolate-colored eyes, with the captivating depth within them.
Yes—he was in her eyes.
There was a hidden emotion in those eyes, but what was it? He could only be certain it wasn't dislike.
His hands felt slightly restless. She had tucked her hair behind her ear, and a few glossy, slightly wavy strands fell forward from the side of her face, brushing against the hand supporting her chin.
He caught a pleasant scent. It emanated freely from her face, her hair, and her breath.
It ignited a burning hunger in his chest. It was as if the apple he'd devoured earlier had vanished in an instant.
He suddenly had a desperate urge to taste something, to hold something close—he wanted it immediately.
Draco hesitated. Perhaps he should release her at once—before he lost control—let go of this girl who held such a fatal attraction for him.
But the worst of it was that, without either of them noticing, one of her hands had grasped the lapel of his shirt and pressed against his heart.
The girl's hand held his tightly. It gave him the illusion that she was also holding his heart in her palm. This illusion pounded in his chest, his blood rushing and roaring.
Draco moved his lips, trying to say something to regain his senses.
But this impossible girl! She did the worst thing she could possibly have done at that moment—she parted her lips slightly, and just as she had in countless dreams, she gazed at him with shining eyes, wearing an expression of complete surrender.
Who wouldn't be bewitched by her?
Finally, he forgot reality and abandoned reason. His hand broke free from rational thought and, as if Imperiused, slid from her chin to the back of her head, lifting her by her slender neck.
She let him hold her, with nowhere to escape. She seemed to have no intention of running away at all. She stared at him innocently and bewilderedly, her cheeks slightly flushed, as if wondering what he planned to do with her next.
So he tilted his head slightly and kissed her, his heart fluttering.
He kissed her.
A touch as gentle as the wind, and a blow as powerful as a raging storm.
Like the explosion of a planet—only the explosion didn't happen in the universe; it happened within their own hearts.
Hermione stared in shock at the boy before her.
Draco.
Draco was kissing her.
A faint blush rose to his cheeks, his platinum blond hair cascading down over his brows, his eyes shimmering with a fragile, yearning light.
Why was he kissing her? Was that something friends were supposed to do?
Amid her pounding heartbeat, those alluring lips kissed her—touching her gently, delicately, and tenderly.
Draco jolted to his senses. This wasn't a dream. The sensation was too real. He had truly kissed her, and he didn't even know if she'd wanted him to.
He shouldn't have done that.
His lips slowly retreated, his eyes fixed on her anxiously, his warm breath still lingering near her nose.
How would she react? Would she be angry? Would she strike him? Draco forced himself away from her soft, heart-melting lips, gazing sadly into her star-bright eyes, thinking dejectedly that whatever she did to him next, he would accept it willingly.
Hermione was utterly bewildered, and a sudden sense of loss washed over her. She disliked the uncertain sadness in his eyes, and she didn't want his lips to leave so soon.
Reluctant to let go of the warm, soft, and fresh sensation of his lips, she succumbed to a sudden impulse. She tilted her head slightly and, bewildered, touched his lips with her own.
This slight touch became a meaningful attempt to hold on. For the restless boy who was desperately trying to suppress himself, it was an affirmation, an encouragement—a door opened for him.
Draco could no longer suppress his emotions.
Merlin—she was kissing him back. She didn't reject him. She was welcoming him.
Amid his pounding heart, a surge of exhilaration rose within him. He tightened his grip on the hand supporting the back of her head and kissed her again with fierce intensity.
He found her. She was soft, sweet, and dreamlike. He tried to devour the sweetest dream he loved most.
Hermione was mesmerized. He no longer hesitated or tested her; instead, he pressed on with passionate urgency. Shyness closed her eyes, her eyelashes trembled, and she was lost in the vast, pure starry sky reflected in his presence.
In the silent universe, they kissed—oblivious to everything around them. In the deserted library, before the parchment-scented bookshelves, under the warm sunlight, in the darkness behind their eyelids, amid the fireworks of their minds.
The darkness amplified the senses of touch and feeling. He kissed her tenderly and gently, softly yet firmly drawing her out. He used the wondrous, wordless language of his lips to tell her that she need not be afraid.
I want to know you. To know you more. His lips touched hers patiently, one gentle touch at a time, conveying his thoughts.
She was at a loss. He touched her and coaxed her like a cunning little creature, causing her to gasp nervously, her bewildered lips inadvertently parting.
I want to comfort you. To comfort your broken heart. His lips seemed to whisper, "I will treat you gently."
She believed it. She opened herself without any defenses, indulging in his softness and warmth, experiencing the intertwined sensations of moisture and tenderness. He was as gentle as ever, yet also possessed an unexpected intensity.
The dance practice Draco had envisioned had finally come to its own kind of fruition: they swayed and turned in the hazy air, dancing a dance of lips and hearts intertwined.
A dance both quiet and intense. Gradually, it became increasingly passionate. She was surrounded and enveloped by him entirely.
She trembled—terribly shy. In his kiss, she was astonished to discover—Peeves had been right—he seemed to want to devour her whole.
Should she escape? Her heart was pounding even harder.
He had exhausted all her strength. Her legs began to weaken uncontrollably, and her body slid down the bookshelf against her will.
She wanted to escape.
Draco didn't give her a chance. He let the dictionary fall and precisely caught her sliding waist with his arm—just as he had done it a thousand times in his dreams—so that the girl was completely enclosed in his arms.
Like the positive and negative poles of a magnet finally finding each other, Hermione nestled into his arms, finding the ultimate answer to those inexplicable electric currents. That current struck their souls the instant they pressed together.
Thud! The Dictionary of Ancient Runes landed heavily on the carpet.
Fine dust from the books swirled around their feet. It danced and fluttered like enchanted sparks, possessing some mysterious power to make them linger in this moment forever.
In the embrace, the scent of cedarwood completely enveloped her, like an invisible, warm cage; and she was the fledgling he had caught, held carefully in his palm.
Hermione had no idea how things had turned out this way. She had no time to think; she was only focused on instinctively holding him back, wanting him to pull her even closer.
In a hazy state, she heard him let out a satisfied sigh, followed by an even more passionate and tender kiss that made her mind go numb.
A strange and entirely involuntary sound escaped her, and she didn't know where it had come from; all she knew was that after she made it, he held her tighter and kissed her more fervently.
Draco completely gave up any resistance.
He gave up resisting this damned, intense, long-suppressed, burning feeling that made his whole body ache.
The moment their lips touched, something within him was awakened—it had been sealed away in the darkness of his heart and in his tender dreams, and it should never have come out.
But she had released it effortlessly, using only one hand.
A hand that gripped his heart and could destroy everything—his forbearance, his repression, his self-control.
She had even kissed him back—nothing could make him hesitate anymore.
So he gave in completely. He tasted the sweetest green apple in the world, and for the first time in a very long while, he no longer felt empty or hungry.
—————————Author's Note—————————
In the dark corner behind the bookshelf, Madam Pince—who had come rushing in after hearing the noise—stood with her mouth agape, clutching her feather duster, completely speechless.
The feather duster: Should I leave?
—————————End of Note—————————
Kissing, more kissing—the passage of time became blurred and uncertain.
They seemed to kiss for a very long time, long enough for all the dust to settle back to the floor.
Draco could have kept kissing her forever. If Hermione hadn't forgotten to breathe, he could have kissed her all day.
However, the girl eventually ran out of breath and began weakly pressing against his chest.
He lingered, reluctant to part, and gently bit her lip before finally pulling back.
That light bite elicited a delicate gasp from Hermione. Everything he did was so new and overwhelming that it made her feel warm all over.
The boy who had been so bold with her was now looking down at her, smiling like a foolish prince, as if he might kiss her again at any moment.
His lips did seem to be trying to close the distance again. Hermione knew this was dangerous. She was dizzy and enclosed in his arms, with nowhere to retreat.
She instinctively leaned back, attempting to create a tiny distance between them; but his arm cunningly held her, as if intending to keep her precisely where she was.
He lowered his head and gently breathed her in, his expression one of intoxication, dazedness, and insatiable warmth. He seemed rather greedy—and she finally understood, with her whole body, what that word truly meant. So, before he could kiss her again, she hastily buried her face in his shoulder, hiding her burning lips and cheeks, avoiding his intensely passionate gaze.
At that moment, she caught the scent of cedar on his neck, and suddenly felt so weak she nearly collapsed; he chuckled and patted her back contentedly to help her catch her breath.
However, the kind hand meant to soothe her not only failed to do so, but made things considerably worse. She felt like a creature caught in his hands, being held and studied, and that he might look her over and taste her at any moment.
"Draco, let go—" Hermione nestled in his arms, finding her voice strangely soft. His touch sent shivers down her spine.
"No..." he said the word with lingering resonance, blowing softly into her ear.
"Please." Her ears were burning, and her face was so red it felt as though it might combust.
Draco sensed her unease and discomfort—had he gone too far?
He stilled and asked softly, "Can you stand?"
"Yes," she insisted, trembling slightly.
So he slowly released her, letting the flushed girl hold onto the bookshelf and catch her breath.
Once Hermione had recovered somewhat, she noticed Draco leaning against the bookshelf with one hand in his pocket, watching her with the still composure of a portrait—studying her as though she were some rare and precious thing.
He still had a smile on his lips, his head tilted slightly, staring at her as if she were a treasure.
She gave him a shy smile, then suddenly glanced at his lips and remembered what they had just done. She blinked, pressed her own lips together, and suddenly lost the ability to speak.
At that moment, he moved forward slightly, and Hermione took a step back.
"Don't be nervous—I only want to give you this." The boy before her had bright, warm eyes as he held out the book.
The Dictionary of Ancient Runes.
It rested in his hands silently, as if wearing a quiet smile.
Good heavens—she was fairly certain she would never be able to look at that book the same way again.
Hermione took it and found it felt rather warm.
"Well then—thank you for getting the book. I—I have to go now," she said, her face flushed and flustered.
"Wait—you still haven't answered my question." Draco blocked Hermione's escape route once more by placing his hands on either side of the bookshelf. The other side of the passageway was a dead end, next to a large floor-to-ceiling window.
"What question?" she asked, taking a few steps back, still bewildered.
Draco suppressed a laugh. Her expression was like a rabbit that had lost its warren. If she weren't already so flustered, he would have loved to pull her into his arms and tease her properly.
No—she's already very nervous. Don't frighten her. Banishing those chaotic thoughts, he coughed lightly and asked again, "Why were you avoiding me these past two days?"
"Oh—about that," Hermione said softly, glancing nervously at his lips. "I'd heard some rumors about you and Pansy Parkinson lately—"
"What?" Draco's expression became comical.
He lowered his arms from the bookshelf, took two steps closer, and asked in surprise, "What could there possibly be between Pansy and me? You know she and Blaise are together!"
"But I heard she was crying in the Slytherin common room because of her dance partner." Hermione watched his approaching figure, remembering how tightly he had held her just moments before. Her face flushed even further.
"That's because she accidentally smashed her most beloved porcelain figurine and wailed about it for ages." Draco looked down at her, a surge of quiet pleasure in his heart, and said in a drawn-out tone, "I genuinely don't know if those gossipers have anything between their ears besides air."
"I see." Hermione's throat tightened slightly. She looked up at him and stammered, "And those girls who tried to invite you—"
"I turned them all down." Draco raised an eyebrow and smiled. "So—you were jealous?"
"I wouldn't describe it that way. I was simply concerned!" Hermione's fingers unconsciously traced the cover of the Dictionary of Ancient Runes as she said stubbornly, "My mind was just—in a muddle."
"I understand. When I saw Krum invite you, my mind was a muddle too. Definitely not because I was jealous." He couldn't help but reach out and smooth a stray strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, and said, suppressing a laugh.
"I turned him down," Hermione blurted out, going red to her ears and looking rather aggrieved. "I never had any intention of going with him—"
"I know. I was a bit anxious at the time. I have to admit, I wasn't calm enough, but I never distrusted you. Regardless, I behaved terribly, and I owe you an apology." He lowered his gaze slightly, unable to resist reaching out to straighten the slightly disheveled collar around her neck—a small consequence of the passionate moments just prior.
Hermione was having trouble breathing again.
What was happening with Draco? His behavior was far too forward. He was drawing close to her without restraint. He was touching her more and more freely.
Before the kiss, they had been respectful friends. After the kiss, everything had changed in an instant.
His expression remained as composed and innocent as ever, as if the intense kiss moments before had merely been her imagination. Yet Hermione could not ignore the deep way he looked at her—as if he might pull her into his arms at any moment and do it all over again.
That kiss had briefly revealed a side of him she had never known. His passion and initiative, his ardor and capriciousness. This was so different from his usual calm, composed demeanor that she was rather taken aback.
It wasn't that she disliked this side of him—she had nearly given in entirely. However, reason told her she needed to compose herself—before being recaptured by this dangerously alluring situation.
Hermione steadied herself and nimbly slipped past him. Turning back to see his bewildered expression and his hand outstretched in mid-air, she said seriously, "It's getting late—I really need to go!"
With that, she clutched the Dictionary of Ancient Runes firmly to her chest and strode quickly through the bookshelves.
Draco glanced at the bright sun outside the window and decided not to point out that it was still perfectly early.
Was she shy?
Draco leaned halfway out from behind the bookshelf, watching her flustered figure disappear into the distance. He called out to her retreating back, "So—are we all right again?"
"Yes!" she said without turning her head.
"Stop hiding from me!" he called after her, raising his voice.
"All right!" She ran from the library at a breakneck pace—it was practically a full retreat.