Haha!!! My first Hermione x Malfoy story!!! Actually, my first Harry Potter story overall... T.T
This is a dark Dramione oneshot; it takes place after Malfoy is revealed for being involved in the murder of Professor Dumbledore. Professor Snape and Lucius Malfoy are already in Azkaban. There will be a sequel!
-Done while listening to Where'd You Go by Holly Brooks and Jonah Matranga; OMG I love this song... :D
Disclaimer: No offense, but you peoples who think I own HP are crazy; firstly, I would have stated that I am JK Rowling a long time ago; secondly, there would be a heck of a lot more Dramione in the series... T.T
In Debt of a Mudblood
Hermione was stunned.
Astonished.
Flabbergasted.
Choose the word as you please.
But that's not the point. The point was that Draco Malfoy was involved in the murder of Professor Dumbledore.
Hermione clutched the railings of the stairs to the Professor's office as she stumbled her way down. She had just been informed by Professor McGonagall of the incident, and who was involved.
Of course, there was Harry, who had witnessed the whole thing under an Immobilize spell thanks to Dumbledore under his Invisibility cloak; Professor Snape, who was the actual killer, as he had performed the third Unforgivable curse that killed Dumbledore; and Draco Malfoy, the one who was to murder Dumbledore in the first place.
Hermione leaned against the railings, staring at the stone wall. Never had she known... never had she suspected... well, she had suspected, but didn't dare let herself believe, that any Professor-not even Snape-would do such a thing, and no one-not even Malfoy-would allow themselves to be involved.
Hermione didn't know Malfoy that well, of course. All her life at Hogwarts, she had been insulted by him solely. Of course, she never really suspected anything else out of him; he was a spoiled, mean boy, who thought himself superior over everyone; even most purebloods. He was the son of a rich Death Eater and had been taught such ways all his life; there really wasn't much to expect from one like him.
He was the one who had trembled as he held up his wand at Dumbledore. He was the one to refuse his destined crime, which would lead him deeper into the affairs of Dumbledore's death. He was the one who would have to face conviction without ever having committed the crime.
Slowly, she headed down the steps, deep in thought. There had to be a way to get Malfoy out of the trouble he was already in. Of course, this didn't mean that Hermione had finally decided to make friends with Malfoy; she just couldn't bear to see anyone tortured for a crime they didn't commit.
At least, that was what she tried to make herself believe.
Lately, Hermione had been having the world's strangest dreams; dreams with Malfoy in them. They hadn't been nightmares either, which really frightened Hermione. In her dreams, Malfoy made her happy. He touched her, cradled her in his strong, gentle arms, stroked her brown curls, whispered intimate things in her ear. Whenever Hermione woke from one of these dreams, she found herself covered in sweat, the sheets under her mussed, her blanket thrown off, Malfoy's name threatening to pour from her lips amidst panting, her inner thighs pulsing with an unfamiliar sensation.
She closed her eyes tightly, not wanting to think about it anymore, and half stumbled, half raced downstairs.
As she neared the dungeon, her heart rate speeded up considerably. She ran her tongue nervously over her lips, thought her plan over one last time, and opened the heavy door, stepped in and closed it behind her as softly as it would. Turning slowly on her heel, she grabbed a long, menacing-looking whip hanging from a hook on the wall and, trailing it through the grime on the floor, gingerly stepped around the piles of aged waste as she made her way to Malfoy's cell.
Why was she carrying a whip? Well, under Professor McGonagall's orders, everyone in the seventh year who was willing was allowed to torture Malfoy for information on Professor Dumbledore's death; information that wasn't passed on to the Ministry of Magic when Snape and Lucius Malfoy were being tortured for information. The only weapon allowed to be used on Malfoy was a whip, and Hermione, cringing, had chosen the largest one to make herself seem as innocent and clueless as though she had no idea of the plan forming in her clever mind.
Nodding at Professor Flitwick, who was currently supervising the torturing, she neared the short professor and bent down to whisper in his ear: "I think you may want to leave the dungeon quarters for a few moments; what I am about to do to Malfoy may not be suitable for anyone's stomachs," She whispered, forcing a smirk onto her face. Professor Flitwick raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but I am to supervise every round of torturing," he said, almost apologetically; he shuddered slightly at the word "torturing". Hermione smiled sweetly. "Do you really think the Gryffindor Head Girl would do such a thing as to betray Hogwarts in any way?" She demanded. Professor Flitwick shook his head vigorously. "No! I-I just-" Hermione cut him off. "And as I said before, what I am about to perform is certain to be against anyone's appetites," she finished, eyeing Professor Flitwick dangerously. Professor Flitwick sighed and nodded. "Just don't do anything you aren't supposed to do," he warned her one last time before scurrying to the door and slamming it behind him.
Finally. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.
Slowly, she made her way to Malfoy's cell.
Her heart skipped a beat. There he was. His arms were chained in a vee above his head, forcing his back and head against the rough stone wall. He was blindfolded with a rough piece of black cloth, and he was stripped of everything but his pants and shoes. His torso, arms and even his face were covered in scars and blood, both old and fresh. Hermione's heart cracked at the sight of him. Never had she seen any Malfoy look so stripped of their dignity. Hermione felt her eyes sting with tears. She swallowed and, closing the barred door behind her quietly, padded silently to where Malfoy awaited his next visitor, her knuckles white from gripping too hard on the whip.
Hermione tried to take each step, but her knees buckled dangerously. She leaned heavily against the barred door, gasping as silently as she could, and looked up at the awaiting Malfoy. Regaining her breath, she looked over her shoulder cautiously. No one was there. Good. Professor Flitwick had kept his promise. She turned her head back to Malfoy, whose thin, parched lips were pressed in a firm line. Slowly but surely, she placed one foot in front of the other mechanically, each step bringing her closer to Malfoy. As she got closer, she saw, in more detail, his wounds; some were old, some fresh; some were still seeping blood, while others had dried; his hair was matted with dust and sweat, plastered in a platinum-gold mess on his head. Wherever there wasn't blood was sweat. Hermione's heart sank, shattering to countless pieces, as she neared him, her vision blurring with tears.
She opened her mouth a tiny crack and let out a long, shuddering sigh.
"Malfoy..."
Malfoy's muscles tense, flexing under his pale skin. He would recognize that voice anywhere.
"Granger," he growled.
Time seemed to stop for a few moments save a whisper of a breeze as it passed through the narrow passageway outside the door.
"Just get it over with!" Malfoy shouted suddenly. Hermione flinched. "Malfoy..."
How much of Malfoy's face was exposed turned red with anger. His voice lowered to a hiss like a serpent. "I don't need anyone's concern; especially not yours," he spat venomously. Hermione's gaze remained, unwavering, on where his eyes would have been had it not been for the blindfold. He couldn't help but to squirm under her detectable gaze. Hermione's chocolate eyes were hard to avoid, even when she wasn't within his view. "Stop staring at me!" He demanded. Hermione barely heard him as she dropped her whip with a clatter and walked swiftly to him.
A turmoil of feelings crashed like a wave through Malfoy as he felt a small, cool palm press against his chest where his heart was beating wildly. Then, his heart nearly stopped. "What are you-"
Another hand covered his parched mouth, cool and soothing. "Shh," Hermione whispered, her voice tinged with pleading. Suddenly, Malfoy's heartbeat came rushing back, more wildly than ever. Hermione felt his breath beating against her hand unevenly. His chest heaved. After what seemed like an eternity, his heartbeat slowed.
Hermione hesitated before lifting her hands and continuing in a low whisper.
"I am going to get you out of here. No, don't talk," she added hurriedly as Malfoy opened his mouth in protest and question. "Two nights from now, I will come back with some food and clothes; maybe your wand. I can only get you out the main dungeon door. From there on, you're on your own." She spoke in a low, hasty whisper, her lips very close to his ear. Stunned, Malfoy managed to stutter, "What...why would...did you...why...?"
Hermione broke away from his side and turned away. Malfoy could almost hear a tear slide down her cheek. She shook her head sadly. "It really is too late to confess anything now, isn't it," she sighed, without looking back. Malfoy furrowed his brow. "What do you mean...?" Hermione sighed again. She turned to Malfoy, her gaze burning into his head, and said in a very low voice:
"I love you."
Malfoy felt a thrill of satisfication clamber up his spine, but fought to regain his composure. "Granger, if this is some kind of joke..."
"It's NOT a joke," Hermione insisted, close to tears. "You haunt me, Malfoy. You haunt me. It scares me too. So many dreams have come upon me; dreams with you in them. And they aren't nightmares either; in fact, they're the best dreams I can pull out of my memory. Why, Malfoy? Why am I falling for the likes of you?" Hermione's face, by now, was wet with her own tears; her voice was strangled and, at the same time, demanding. The whip lay on the floor, forgotten. She turned away, nearly walking into the wall. Tears dripped down her chin. "It's no use," she whimpered to herself, her eyes downcast.
Malfoy bit his lip. "Granger... you aren't the only one having strange feelings for another," he admitted quietly. She turned slowly on her heel and stared at Malfoy intently. He swallowed before continuing.
"I...have had...abnormal feelings toward you too. The only reason why I think this is happening is because... is because before I met you, I always thought that muggleborns were much lower than purebloods. I was raised according to this belief, and as a result, I felt superior to anyone living with Muggles or being related to one in any way."
He swallowed again. Hermione's breath caught unpleasantly in her chest, nearly making her choke.
He continued.
"But then, I met you. You... you were the most intelligent witch I had ever met; the most intelligent Mudblood I had ever met. Your performance in your classes stood out amidst everyone else's. And when I first looked directly into your eyes, I saw an unfamiliar glint. Defiance. It was the first time someone had looked at me with that in their eyes as I insulted them. You taught me the hard way- through humiliation and hate- that not all Mudbloods were the same."
Malfoy drew a shuddering sigh. Had he been talking to someone else, his face would be red by now.
Hermione's expression was unreadable. She knew that if Malfoy's silvery-blue eyes had not been blindfolded, they would have been boring holes into her head, burning through her soul.
"Ever since then, I haven't been the same. Whenever I saw you, something stirred in me. Something very unfamiliar. I had never felt it before. It steadily became harder and harder to insult you with all of my heart put into it."
His voice dropped to a low, husky murmur.
"And I've been dreaming of you too, Granger. Scary dreams. Not nightmares, either. Not the kind of scary that little kids feel when they first encounter a ghost. The kind that stirred me in my stomach and shook me to my core. I've been dreaming too many of these dreams for my own good. When I wake up from these dreams, I'm shaking, sweating, my bed looks like a mini tornado hit it, your name at the tip of my tongue." Hermione trembled. She knew that hearing this should make her wretch, but she wasn't even close to that. No; hearing Malfoy continue his rant was more than she had ever hoped to receive.
Malfoy struggled violently against his chains, and his voice took on a slight note of hysteria. "Whenever I'm asleep, whenever I'm awake; whenever I try to sleep, it's you I need, you I feel crawling under my skin, stealing every ounce of breath from me. What are you doing to me, Granger? Are you hexing me? Casting a spell on me?!"
Suddenly, Hermione threw herself up against Malfoy and flung her arms around his muscular abdomen. She couldn't bear to hear anymore for fear that she would burst. The emotion coursing through her was almost overwhelming; it only took a moment to feel, yet would take several pages to describe. Ignoring the blood still seeping slowly from his open, numerous wounds, she buried her face into his shoulder, shaking. Soon, her hands, robes and hair were all tinted red. She trembled against his cool, moist skin.
Malfoy took a deep, rattling breath and slowly bent his head forward, his chin touching her soft brown curls. A sudden urge to bury his face into her curls racked his body, but he stopped himself. It was wrong. Their love; it was all wrong. Yet who could stop them? Ignoring all doubts and precaution feelings, he dipped his head forward quickly and plunged his face into her hair, taking in her sweet scent.
Finally, Hermione drew away reluctantly. Had he not been chained, Malfoy would have pulled her right back into his arms. He opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione pressed his lips gently with two long fingers.
"Shh," she murmured. She hesitated, then lifted her fingers. He kept silent.
She sighed. "I'll see you the day after tomorrow."
With that, Hermione turned away, picking up the whip as she went, her cape fluttering behind her. Suddenly, she stopped and turned around, the tiniest of grins stretching over her face. "If you don't mind, could you pretend to be in intense pain? I had to promise Professor Flitwick a round of torturing not fit for anyone's stomach to make him leave..." Malfoy smirked. "I'll do that." Hermione turned without another word and swept out the door.
By the door stood a very nervous-looking Professor Flitwick. He looked up when she walked out and searched her face for the tiniest clue of how the whipping had gone. Hermione answered wordlessly with a sweet smile and walked on, hanging up the whip as she went. Professor Flitwick squealed and scurried for Malfoy's cell. Malfoy must had taken Hermione's word, for Hermione could hear Professor Flitwick squeak "My goodness, Mr. Malfoy! Has she been THAT hard on the whipping?!" at the other end of the hallway. She smirked to herself as she walked out of the dungeon tower.
o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o
The next day passed by slowoy for both Hermione and Malfoy. Hermione's mind wandered hopelessly as she tried in vain to focus on her thick Dark Arts textbook. Her stomach squirmed unpleasantly at the mention of food. She skipped part of Arithmancy to grab some clothing from the Slytherin boys' dormitory. As she stepped into the room, Hermione had to bite back a laugh. If Professor McGonogall had found her out, she would have been expelled on the spot.
Malfoy hardly felt anything as more volunteers whipped him mercilessly. His mind was always on Hermione. He was hungry to see her again; to hear her sigh his name like in his dreams. He wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to bury his nose into her hair. To him, she was like poison; strictly forbidden, yet sweetly tempting.
Malfoy's mouth was considerably dry the next morning. That night would be the night where Hermione would be coming for him. Suddenly, his mind filled with doubts. What if everything that happened the day before was a joke? What if Hermione had just been using his confinement in the dungeon as another chance to repay him for what he had done to her? What if she really wasn't going to come for him that night? Malfoy forced himself to be optimistic. He gritted his teeth at the amount of willpower it recquired. Night couldn't come any slower.
During dinner, Hermione couldn't eat. She dragged her fork through numerous courses that appeared magically in her plate before dropping her fork, grabbing a few bread buns and stuffing them into her pocket. She got up abruptly and left, claiming she still had homework to work on.
When she got to the Gryffindor common room, she drew a deep, shuddering breath. Turning swiftly on her heel, she grabbed a towel from the bathroom, dunked it in water, wringed it, grabbed Malfoy's clothes and ran for the dungeon, her flapping cloak the only thing audible.
Malfoy flinched as footsteps neared him. The door opened, and a female voice murmured "Reducto." His chainse fell away, and he fell to his hands and knees, breathing heavily at the wonderful sensation of being able to bend his knees again. The voice murmured "Lumos", and a small light flickered through the heavy black cloth Malfoy wore over his eyes. A pair of cool hands lifted his face gently and untied his blindfold, removing it slowly so that he could get used to the light. He blinked a few times before his eyes focused and found Hermione's pale face.
The two stared at each other.
Finally, Malfoy broke the trance. "You came," he said hoarsely, staring up with wonder into Hermione's brown eyes.
Hermione blinked, then looked away shyly and put down the bundle of black clothing she had been holding. "Yes, well..." She handed to him a bread bun from her pocket, eased him back so that his back was leaning against the stone wall, took out a small wet towel and began to wash his torso. Malfoy's eyes remained steadily on Hermione's face as she worked silently.
When she was done with his torso, she flipped over the the towel and gently began to towel his arms and face. She gently ran the towel over his well-toned muscles and ran the edge of the towel gingerly over his pale face. Malfoy's muscles flexed instinctively at the tingling sensation the towel caused. By the time she was done with toweling, he had finished his last bit of bread. She handed him another one and sat back.
The two stared at each other yet again.
Finally, Hermione looked away. "I-I..." she picked up the pile of clothing and placed it gently in his lap. "Here," she muttered. She smiled weakly, then stood up. "I'll be outside if you-" She stopped abruptly as Malfoy stood up, tossing aside the clothing, and collected her into a hug, pressing her small fram against his tight-muscled body.
Hermione froze.
When Malfoy bent his head down to brush his parched lips over her soft ones, she pulled away weakly. "No- you can't do this to me..." she whimpered, closing her eyes and struggling weakly. "Malfoy, there isn't any good in starting something when we're meeting each other for the last time..." Hermione begged him. Malfoy easily held her down, pressing her against the wall. "Who said this is the last time we are to meet?" he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
Hermione's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
Malfoy wrapped his arms around her thin upper body and arms, burrying his face into her soft brown curls again.
"I will see you again," Malfoy whispered urgently into her ear. Hermione trembled. "What do you-" Malfoy cut her off. "I'm not leaving the first girl I ever met in a place like this," he hissed. "It may not be soon, but we will meet again." Hermione trembled even harder, tears blurring her vision, wetting his bare chest as she burried her face into his shoulder.
"Do you promise?" she whispered faintly.
Malfoy nodded, his blond hair mixing with her brown curls. His grip around her tightened. "I do."
Hermione whispered a barely audible "Thank you". After what seemed like an eternity, Hermione broke away from his grasp with some difficulty and thrust into his arms a black robe, a black and green cloak, and a black cotton undershirt. Hermione watched patiently as he dressed, and when he pinned his cloak on, she handed him two more bread buns. Then, hesitating, she reached into her cloak pocket and pulled out his ebony wand. As soon as she handed it to him, she backed away a few steps, staring up into his slate eyes. Malfoy glared at her while he stuck his wand pointedly into his pocket. Hermione walked away awkwardly as he brushed by her to the barred door.
The pair walked slowly down the dungeon corridor, both silent and thoughtful. Once they reached the door, they stopped. Hermione looked up into Malfoy's slate eyes, Malfoy into Hermione's.
Finally, Hermione cast her gaze down. "Well...this is good-bye..." Malfoy shook his head. "No," he muttered. "Just farewell." And right then, Hermione found herself in Malfoy's arms once again, this time with his lips set gently against hers. This time, she didn't fight back. She stood still, allowing Malfoy to kiss her. When the two finally broke apart, Malfoy cupped Hermione's small face in his large, pale hands. He gently wiped away her tears with his thumbs.
"Before I leave... I want you to do one more thing for me," He murmured. "I want you to say my name like you do in my dreams." Hermione's breath caught in her chest. "How do I say it in your dreams, then?" She asked softly as she gazed up into his face, trying to memorize every curve, every line, every sliver of his hair covering his handsome face. "You call me by my first name, and you don't scream it, you don't growl it; you don't even moan it," he said, his voice on the edge of cracking. Hermione held her breath.
"You... sigh it," he whispered, closing his eyes at the memory that had haunted him so long before.
Hermione lifted her face from his hands and buried it into his chest, feeling the thrum of his steady heartbeat vibrate gently against her cheek. "Malfoy..."
Malfoy shook his head, his arms wrapped fervently around her small frame. "No; say my first name," he said in a heated whisper, his eyes glinting with hunger.
Hermione flinched slightly. She closed her eyes lightly, her long lashes brushing his chest. He shivered, but still listened intently for her voice to sigh his name. Hermione opened her mouth a crack and drew a long, shaky breath.
"Draco..."
It was Malfoy's turn to flinch. "Yes," he murmured, almost out of breath from excitement. "That's how you say my name..." and parched lips met soft ones again.
Finally, Hermione broke their embrace. "You have to go..." she murmured. "They come to check on you every night just before they turn off the main lights." Reluctantly, Malfoy released the first girl he ever really loved. He backed away obediently, still watching her, his eyes memorizing every detail of her face, pale in the light of her holly wand; her hair, gleaming dark gold and trembling from the slight breeze blowing from an open window; her body, petite and slender, cloaked in a black and red cape, making her look small and vulnerable.
Malfoy blinked back tears. "I love you," he murmured. The wind carried his voice to Hermione's ears in a rush of soft sound, but before she could reply, he turned in a swish of his cloak and vanished.
Gone.
Hermione's ears rang with the horrible word, her hands trembling violently, as she leaned heavily against the stone wall, not taking her eyes off of where Malfoy had been standing moments before. Dropping her wand, Hermione dropped to her knees, a wave of realization crashing through her mercilessly. Her eyes filmed over, and her vision blurred. She dimly felt her upper body laz and fall forward as the darkness rapidly closed in.
o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o
The next thing she knew, Hermione was lying on a starchy bed in the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey bent over, a faint frown line between her eyebrows, watching her every move like a hawk. When Hermione opened her eyes, Madame Pomfrey let out a squeal of delight and ran for Professor McGonogall. Hermione felt her wand in her pocket and clutched it tightly, closing her eyes against the light.
Nothing happened.
She forced herself to think so.
Nothing happened.
Nothing happened.
Hermione felt a tear slide down her temple to her soft, fluffy pillow. She gripped her wand until she thought her knuckles would crack.
Nothing happened.
After she managed to persuade both Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonogall that she was all right, Hermione made her way shakily to the Gryffindor common room. She plunked down heavily on one of the overstuffed chairs and picked idly at the stuffing, feet stretched out before her towards the dying fire. Harry and Ron were still in Potions. It would be another 45 minutes before they returned.
Hermione drew a long, heavy sigh.
She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyelashes and swiped at them angrily. Standing up groggily, she headed for the library.
o.o.o.o.o.o.o
3 YEARS LATER...
Hermione ran down the sidewalk, past the rows of cozy-looking houses, angry tears blistering her cheeks. What had she been thinking? Of course Ron couldn't have seriously been in love with her!
Flashback:
It was the night of a beautiful July 11. The sun had just set, and the sky was golden-red, with a touch of blue and purple. Hermione smiled to herself. What a beautiful summer night.
"Ron, I'm home-!" Hermione stepped into the tiny house the two shared, and stopped in her tracks, eyes and mouth wide open. On the living room sofa lay a very ruffled-looking Lavener Brown, and lying on top of her, looking equally ruffled, lay Ron. Both looked up, very surprised. Hermione felt tears of betrayal prick at her eyelashes. Ron winced.
"'Mione, this isn't what it looks like-" he began.
"Not what it looks like." Hermione had overcome her shock and was now shaking with anger. Her glare remained on the two ruffled young adults before her. Lavender looked very confused. "Ronnie... didn't you say that you were single...?" she said uncertainly. Ron flinched. "Lavender, I-"
"SINGLE?!" cried Hermione. The tears were now streaming freely down her cheeks, dribbling down her chin. "You told her you were SINGLE?!"
Lavender turned her large blue eyes to Hermione, then to Ron again. "Ronnie...?"
Hermione ignored the pretty blonde lying under Ron. Her anger was focused completely on Ron. "You two-timer," she whispered poisonously, tears staining the ground she stood on. "You stinking, good-for-nothing, horrible, red-headed two-timer!" She cried, and ran from the house. She heard Ron call her name, but ignored it. She had no idea where she was going. She depended solely on her feet to carry her somewhere nice where she could calm down. Not that she wanted to calm down.
End Flashback
Hermione stopped abruptly under a circle of light from a flickering street light. She took a deep breath and dabbed half-heartedly at her cheeks with the sleeve of her robe. She sighed once again, her breath shaky from silent sobbing. She plunked down on a nearby bench, breathing hard and deep in thought.
Suddenly, a swooshing noise echoed over her head in the air. She looked up, confused. Nothing was there. Deciding it was just a figment of her imagination, she looked back down again. Where was she...?
But the swoosh came again. This time, Hermione kept her eyes lifted, and she saw- high up in the sky- something flying in circles over her head. Was it a bird? A plane? No, it had the wrong shape. And why would it circle her? Hermione squinted harder at the circling shape.
Suddenly, she saw a flash of blond hair and heard- unmistakably- the flutter of a robe. A robe? That meant the thing was actually a blonde person sitting on something long and thin. Long and thin. A broomstick... Hermione was greatly puzzled. What?
Then, the figure suddenly dipped and dove straight for her. The figure grew larger and larger and larger...
Hermione's eyes widened. She would recognize that man anywhere.
Draco Malfoy.
She stood up immediately. Malfoy landed gently in front of her. The two stared at each other.
Finally, Malfoy broke the silence. "You were crying..." he murmured, his hand trailing down her cheek, tracing the path of her tears. She looked away. "It was nothing,' she said icily. Malfoy hesitated, then simply nodded. Then, he pulled Hermione into a sudden hug. Hermione stood rigid at first. It was so unfamiliar, to be in the arms of someone she loved- and still did- after so long. Finally, she relaxed and buried her face into his shoulder. Good lord, his shoulders at broadened so much since last time she saw him...
Malfoy pulled back, only to grab her by her arms and force her to look into his blazing slate eyes. "Come with me." he ordered. An order. Hermione's widened. "You mean now?" She gasped breathlessly. Malfoy nodded his head once. Hermione shook her brown curls. "No, Malfoy, I can't leave, not on such a short no-" Malfoy gave her a gentle shake. "Are you happy here?" He demanded. Hermione was about to nod when she remembered why she had wandered so far away from her home. She shook her head sullenly. Malfoy's eyes glinted triumphantly. "Then come with me," he murmured in her ear.
A rush of emotions overcame Hermione. She closed her eyes and felt her legs waver under her. she had to stay; she had a job, a home, and friends; yet every night, ever since last time she had seen Malfoy, her dreams had been haunted by him. They were even more intensely romantic than the ones she had before setting Malfoy free; they made her wake up screaming. She wanted to be with him, and she knew very well he wanted to be with her even more. Hunger flickered dangerously in his silvery-blue eyes as he waited for her agreement.
Suddenly, Hermione couldn't stand it any longer. Her thoughts became a jumbled mess. She felt her body go weak. She couldn't think clearly. Then, out of nowhere, she made her choice. Taking a deep breath, she gazed over her shoulder in the direction of her house, then turned back around, gazing into Malfoy's hungry eyes.
She nodded.
And the next moment she found herself in Malfoy's arms, her back pressed against the bench, his lips set hard against hers. An overwhelming wave of bliss overcame her, and a moan escaped her lips...
Meanwhile, Ron lay on top of Lavender still, deep in thought. His eyes were clouded, yet full of emotion at the same time. Lavender waited underneath him, trembling. What was going to happen now? She loved Ron- she really did- but what was to become of Hermione? She took a deep, shuddering breath and gazed up at Ron. She gasped when she found his hazel eyes bring holes into her blue ones.
Ron wasted no time; he bent his head down and covered her lips with his mercilessly, his hands running roughly up and down her back. She gasped at his forcefulness. "Ronnie..." Ron moaned in response. "What is going to happen to Hermione?" Ron growled against her mouth. "I don't care what she does; I don't love her anymore. I want you." The passion in his voice scared Lavender a bit, but when she saw pure love shining in his brown-green eyes, she felt all doubts slip from her. She closed her eyes and succumbed to him.
About half an hour later, time found Ron and Lavender, stripped of all clothes, lying under a thin blanket in his bed. Lavender, still underneath Ron, had fallen asleep, her bared skin moist with sweat. Ron lay on top of her, listening to her breath. His lower stomach was still pressed up against her. He had both arms on either side of her head, his hands under the pillow. His gaze was pointed out the window, reflecting on what had happened before and wondering how he would deal with Hermione.
Suddenly, he thought he saw something soar by. Staring up again, he squinted his hazel eyes, trying to find what he had spotted, but it never came again. Sighing, he forgot the soaring object, lay his head down beside Lavender's, and fell asleep.
Little did he know that a very blissful Hermione was sitting on that soaring object, with a very blissful Malfoy sitting in front of her. Little did he know that the soaring object was a broom, taking the pair off to a place where no one could criticize their choice. Little did he know that he know that Hermione was not as heart-broken now as he thought she was...
o.o.o.o.o.o.o
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved...
-Shakespeare (Sonnet CXVI)
FINALLY! I am DONE! (dances with joy to "Where'd You Go by Holly Brooks and Jonah Mantranga) (sites back down) hehe... ahem... I mean... yea... anyway... --'
I loved this poem by Shakespeare- I was introduced to it by my english teacher. The idea of this story is 100 percent mine, and I am very proud of that fact. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did:D
THERE WILL BE A SEQUEL! It will be called When Past and Present Collide . I will be posting the first chapter of that story soon!
Thanks again for reading!
-MoonDemon101