This takes place in the sixth year, we'll say, but let's pretend that none of that evil stuff is happening, cause I didn't want to bother with shoving it into my plotline. It's a one-shot. Enjoy!
The Scent of Seven Collisions
The first time Hermione Granger ran into Draco Malfoy, it was purely accidental.
It was a short encounter, she'd been coming out of a secret passageway on her way to History of Magic, and Malfoy had been walking down the corridor it opened into. Since the entrance to the shortcut was behind a statue, Hermione didn't see the Slytherin until her face collided with his chest. She said "Oof" as he inhaled a sharp breath. He didn't touch her, but he'd pulled away so quickly it made her stumble to catch her balance.
"Watch where you're going, Granger," he'd snarled, and strutted away.
Hermione watched him go with a new kind of fascination. He'd smelled really, really good.
The second time she ran into him, it was mostly his fault.
It was after breakfast on a Tuesday, the bell had just rung, and everyone was filing out of the Great Hall. So, it was practically a mob scene.
Hermione couldn't remember why she was leaving breakfast so late, but she did remember what happened as she was leaving.
In the rush to get out the Great Hall's doors, the students were squished tightly together. Somehow, Hermione ended up directly behind Draco Malfoy.
She tried her best not to bump into him, pushing back on the students who tried to push her forward, and she succeeded. That is, until Draco moved.
"Oh, I forgot my bag," he told Blaise Zabini, who nodded in response. If Hermione had had more of a warning, the collision might not have happened, but Malfoy turned and stepped forward so suddenly--he crashed right into her.
This time, Hermione's head was up, so she came face to face with the boy who had tormented her for six years as their bodies met. She was surprised with what she saw.
His eyes weren't cruel, as she'd always imagined. As his scent washed over her, she caught a glimpse of the real Draco Malfoy. Through his shock, she could see a glimmer of warmth.
They stood, face to face, for a very long couple of seconds. Then Malfoy mumbled, "Excuse me," and pushed his way through the crowd. Again, Hermione watched him go.
The third time was entirely on purpose.
Hermione was in the library (as usual), looking for a book (as usual) to use on her Charms essay, when she heard Malfoy's voice. Instantly, she had a plan.
He was in the row next to hers, walking along, so she hurried in the same direction as he was headed. They neared the end of their aisles, and if she timed it just right--
They met with more force than she had intended, and toppled to the ground. Hermione had squeezed her eyes shut at the last minute, and now, when she opened them, she found grey ones beneath hers.
And then she realized--she was straddling him.
She gasped in his scent and got up quickly, stuttering, "I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to--"
She stopped speaking when she saw the flash of amusement in Draco's eyes. He stood up slowly and brushed himself off.
"It's fine, Granger." With that, he left her standing amongst the scent of old books and gentlemen's cologne.
She would never get tired of watching him walk away.
The fourth time was disastrous.
Coffee wasn't served at breakfast in the Great Hall, but Hermione had grown addicted to it over the summer. So, every morning, she went down to the kitchen to grab a mug that the house elves kindly prepared for her. She'd thank them, and go join her friends at their house table.
On a Friday, she's gone through this routine as usual, but as she left through the kitchen's portrait hole, she tripped. Her mug tumbled from her hands, but instead of hitting the stone floor, Hermione fell into the soaked Draco Malfoy.
When she'd caught her balance and stepped back, she chanced a glance at his face. He was wincing.
"That's some really hot coffee, Granger," he said.
Hermione gasped. "I'll get you some towels!" She exclaimed, but turned only to find a house elf with a stack of them behind her. She grabbed the fuzzy white cloth, thanked the elf, and whipped back around. Then she froze.
Draco had taken off his robes.
His coffee-stained white button up stuck to his skin in a most appealing way, showing off his quidditch-toned body. Hermione couldn't help staring; there was only one word to describe how he looked.
"Granger," He said slyly. "I know I'm sexy, but would you mind handing over those towels?"
Hermione reddened, but did what he asked. "Are you hurt?" She inquired as she handed over the towels.
"No, just hot and wet." Then Malfoy reddened too. "In a completely nonsexual way."
Hermione laughed. "Sorry about that," she gestured to his stained shirt.
"It's fine, just… be more careful next time." He gathered his wet robes, and wrapped them in a towel. "I'm going to go change now."
Hermione nodded, and he left.
The portrait hole swung shut, but Hermione stared at the back of the canvas for a minute, the scent of coffee and Draco's unique cologne lingering in the air. She was startled when a house elf spoke.
"Miss?" The elf asked, and Hermione turned around. "Would Miss like another cup of coffee?"
The fifth time was just plain lucky.
Hermione was headed up the rather steep spiral staircase to the owlry. She had a letter for her parents to mail, she hadn't talked to them in weeks, and she knew they would be wanting to hear from her.
Just as she reached the top, Draco came out of the owlry, so to avoid crashing into him, Hermione took a step backwards--
--off the top step and into thin air.
But before she could fall to a certain broken neck, Draco grabbed her arm and jerked her forwards and back onto the steps. And into him.
He stumbled back into the owlry wall as her weight hit him, and she fell against him. His hand still encircled her forearm, and his other arm had come up around her shoulders. As her released her, she looked up at him, wide eyed.
"You saved me," she said, voice full of gratitude.
"I thought I told you to be more careful," he reminded her gruffly. "You really are a clutz, Granger."
And then he slipped away down the stairs, and Hermione was left alone as the wind blew away the scent of his presence.
The sixth time they collided, she blamed Harry and Ron.
"C'mon, Hermione," Harry begged.
"Yeah, it'll be good for you," Ron whined.
It took them half an hour, but Hermione finally yielded.
When they reached the quidditch pitch, Draco was already there. Another member of the Slytherin quidditch team was with him, throwing golf balls in all different directions for seeker practice. Draco caught every one.
Harry and Ron frowned at the two boys in green.
"Just ignore them, Mione," Ron instructed.
Easier said than done, Hermione thought. She'd been having a hard time getting Draco off her mind lately - Draco and his grey eyes and firm chest and delicious scent…
"Here," Harry pulled her from her thoughts by shoving a broomstick into her hands. "You can use my firebolt."
Yes, that was why the boys had taken her to the quidditch pitch. She'd never properly learned to fly.
Harry, armed with a school broom, and Ron, with his own, had been begging to be allowed to teach the reluctant girl. Never mind that she was afraid of heights. Never mind that she was nervous enough with Draco Malfoy in sight. They were determined.
"Hold it like this, right, and kick off like that, yeah, no, no, Hermione, lean back!" Harry yelled, but to no avail. Hermione, having correctly gotten off the ground, had somehow told the broom, which was accustomed to a much more skilled rider, to move forward. Very quickly.
She screamed and clutched the broom as it cannoned through the air. It took all her strength to hang on, but that didn't last long. She was slipping.
The broom sped out from under her, but its momentum caused Hermione to continue to move forward for a few seconds before she fell--
--directly onto another broom.
She lost the weightless feeling of falling as a strong arm wrapped around her and pulled her into a familiar scent.
"Draco?" She breathed as he slowly lowered them to the ground.
"How many times am I going to have to tell you to be more careful before you get it into your head?" He muttered into her ear.
Hermione laughed breathlessly. "Hopefully this will be the last."
They reached the ground, and Harry and Ron landed next to them as Hermione dismounted. Harry clutched his firebolt, having grabbed it as it fell. They nodded stiffly to Draco.
"Thanks," Harry said curtly.
Draco just nodded, and took off to rejoin his teammate.
"So," Ron began. "I don't suppose you want to try again?"
Hermione just glared at him.
By the seventh time, Hermione was hoping for it.
Yes, she'd developed quite the crush on the tall, blonde Slytherin. He'd taken to calling her 'Granger' instead of 'mudblood,' he'd saved her twice, and she'd become addicted to the scent of his cologne. She wanted to run into him again. To feel his arms surround her and be engulfed in his warm scent. She'd never admit it, of course, he was still Malfoy. But she was really quite helplessly attracted to him.
However, when she did run into him again, she wasn't expecting it.
She was walking leisurely down a corridor on the sixth floor, humming a tune she had stuck in her head, when she heard footsteps pounding along. She frowned. They were beating on the stone floor too rapidly for the song she was humming. Searching around in her memory, Hermione found a song with a faster beat. She smiled as it played along with the footsteps. Much better. However, being so focused on her internal soundtrack, she didn't notice that the footsteps were getting louder, and louder, and louder, and--
All of a sudden, she was on the floor. Well, not all of a sudden, she'd been crashed into and had fallen, but it had happened so quickly it seemed like all of a sudden. Not only was she now on the floor, but someone was on top of her.
"This is becoming routine, isn't it?" Draco asked as he smiled down at her.
"Why were you running?" Hermione asked him, fully aware of how he was still on top of her, but his weight had shifted off of her and onto his elbows and knees, effectively trapping her beneath him. She didn't mind at all.
"You know," Draco mused, his face inches from hers, "I can't really remember."
"What if it was important?" Hermione asked as his scent began to make her lightheaded.
"I don't think it was," Draco answered.
Hermione stared up at him, fighting off the urge to reach up and snog him senseless. "Are you going to get up?" She asked, although she didn't really want him to.
"Eh, I don't think so," he told her. "I'm quite comfortable at the moment." He smirked at her.
Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. When she reopened them, Draco was even closer than he had been before. Dammit, she wanted to kiss him.
"Draco," she said.
"Hermione," he answered.
"If you don't get up, I'm going to kiss you."
Draco's eyes widened, and then he grinned. "Was that supposed to be a threat? Cause if it was, it was a really bad one, why--"
"Do you WANT me to kiss you??" Hermione interrupted angrily. "Cause I really will if you don't move, I'm horrible at resisting temptation."
Draco stared down at her for too long a moment before smiling. "Ye--"
He was cut off as Hermione lifted her head up the inch it took to meet his lips. To her surprise, Draco kissed her back, sucking on her lower lip as one of his hands went to her waist. Hermione tangled her hands in his hair and pulled him closer. She gasped against his lips as his fingers traced the bare skin of her stomach where her shirt had ridden up. He pulled back and smirked at her.
"What do you say we take this into an empty classroom, eh?" He asked, and as he pulled her to her feet, Hermione spoke her mind.
"You know what, Draco?"
"You smell really, really good."
I've figured out that I like to end stories in kisses…
Well, tell me what you think!