Chapter Eleven: Star Wars, Part Two
"So that's it?" Ginny asks, as the titles start to roll. "They don't even kill Darth Vader?"
"Well no, obviously not," Justin says. His eyebrows pinch together, his face endearingly earnest. "Otherwise there wouldn't really be any story to tell in the next two -"
"There are more?" Theo sits upright, rearranging Daphne where she has apparently managed to fall asleep.
"Oh Justin," Harry laughs, as several other voices are raised in interest. "What have you done?"
"So if the Cannoli man is going to come back more powerful, does that mean he has horcruxes?" Pansy asks, and Harry sighs, realising that he almost certainly has no means of escape.
"Kenobi. And no, it's more of a -" he struggles for the right word, and looks pleadingly at Hermione, who just smiles.
"Use the Force, Luke," she says, unhelpfully.
"Thanks," he grates out.
"Hmm," Pansy murmurs, smoothing a hand through his hair. "That smuggler-y one is cute, I guess."
"He's called Han Solo," Harry protests, keen to defend his childhood idol before he catches the glint in her eye and realises that she's teasing him. "I find your lack of faith...disturbing," he says, pitching his voice into an absurd bass that elicits a look of blank shock from Pansy before she starts to giggle uncontrollably.
"This bickering is pointless," Blaise says, voice rising above the hubbub in such a perfect imitation of Peter Cushing that everyone falls quiet. If he's surprised by the effect of his words, he doesn't show it, just looks calmly at Justin. "Do you happen to have the other films with you?"
Hermione isn't that surprised to find that she's the only one who makes it to lunch the next day. They were all up until nearly five watching the whole of the Star Wars trilogy, and with only a couple of days of the Christmas holiday left everyone is inclined to make the most of not having to get up for morning classes.
It gives her a chance, as she sits with a couple of younger students and automatically answers questions about a tricky bit of OWL Arithmancy, to think about Draco.
"Feel the fear," she says, "and do it anyway."
He looks at her, pale as marble and just as opaque, and then he takes a deliberate step forward, hands coming up to frame her face.
Every time he kisses her it is a new revelation, a new secret wrested from him. This touch tender, this sound reverent. Fierce and frightened; brittle and bold.
Who are you? she wants to ask him. Who are you, Draco Malfoy, that you do this to me?
"Stay with me," he whispers, and Hermione doesn't question it, backing towards the door of the Room, pulling him with her.
They hadn't done more than kiss, but they had lain down together on one of the sofas, limbs twining, bodies curled into twin question marks, the answer somewhere in between.
And they'd talked for what seemed like hours before they fell asleep, and then for hours again when she woke up to his nose pressed into the side of her neck, his arms wrapped tight around her waist.
She'd told him about her parents, how she doesn't think they'll ever remember her properly. He'd told her about his father, lucid for barely ten minutes at a time, and his mother: proud and brave and broken.
They'd talked about the war, and all the shattered pieces that Voldemort left behind him. They'd talked, finally, about Malfoy Manor.
"I thought she would kill you," he breathes. The look in his eyes is terrible. His fingers have tightened on her so that his grip is almost painful. He's so real, so present. "I thought that she would kill you and make me watch it."
"I was ready to die." Hermione runs her thumb under the swell of his bottom lip. "I know how that feels."
How sick, how terrible, that they both have this to live with. Draco's eyes search hers, and while she isn't quite sure what he's looking for she sees the moment he finds it, like a light coming on, before he kisses her again.
It's a kiss that finds its way into her blood, sending warmth all the way to her toes.
"I hated you for so long," he tells her.
The day had seemed to pass in a blur, and then all too soon they'd gone down to dinner, fingers tangled until the last second, Draco pulling her back before they reached the main staircase, pressing himself to her in a shadowed alcove, mouth hot and desperate on hers before they returned to their fiction of indifference.
"I need to have secrets," he tells her. "Allow me to keep this one, just for a little while."
His hand presses hers over his heart.
At least the films had proved a worthwhile distraction. Hermione smiles to herself, unable to believe that a story about three scrappy idiots saving the universe could be quite such an unqualified success. She's just pushed back her empty plate and made to rise from the table when there's a shout from the Entrance Hall.
"It's a TRAAAAAAAP!"
By the time Hermione reaches the main staircase, it's to see Harry and Theo giggling wildly at the top of it as they shoot red sparks at Blaise and Ginny, who return fire in green.
"Surrender, rebel scum!" Ginny yells, as Dean appears next to Harry, adding his own volley of red sparks.
"Short help is better than no help at all," Theo laughs, and Dean shoots him a dirty look that's ruined by his huge grin.
Seamus emerges from under the stairs and runs to stand beside Ginny, his hands full of something that gives off acrid blue smoke. "Witness the firepower of this fully ARMED and OPERATIONAL -"
"Would someone care to explain to me what on EARTH is going on here?" Headmistress McGonagall's voice rings out across the Entrance Hall, leaving a deafening silence in its wake that is broken by whatever Seamus is holding exploding in his arms in a shower of bright green sparks.
Hermione thinks burning his eyebrows off before term has even started might be a new record for Seamus, and she suppresses the urge to laugh.
"Hello," says a low voice in her ear, and Hermione tries not to jump as a light touch lands on her mid-back. "What have we here?"
She can't help the smile that blossoms at the sound of his voice. "You're going with Lando?"
"Double-crossing is more my style than straightforward heroics," Draco murmurs. "Want to attempt a daring escape before we face the wrath of the empire?"
Hermione eyes McGonagall, who is speaking in a rapidly rising tone to Blaise, Ginny, and Seamus. Even Blaise is looking contrite, and Harry and Theo are frozen at the top of the stairs, seemingly caught between horror and glee as Dean tiptoes backwards.
"I think it looks as good a time as any to be whisked away," she says, reaching behind herself to lace her fingers into his.
"Let's go." Draco draws her gently backwards into the shadows at the edge of the hall.
A/N: I'm so sorry I got completely carried away. This will be fairly Dramione-centric from here, and there are four chapters remaining. For those questioning dates, it's currently 3rd January, i.e. Film Club has been running for 9 days.