Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe except for the fandom I've written. In no way am I making a profit from this whatsoever.
AN: This is an AU, Non-canon story set in 7th year at Hogwarts. Pretend that OOTP, HBP, and DH never happened, and in GOF Cedric Diggory never died, he won the Triwizard Cup and Voldemort's plans never came to fruition, thus the Dark Lord never came back into power and what little body he had slowly withered away into nothing. The second wizarding war has yet to happen so that makes our main characters a little less hostile to each other in their fifth year and up. Voldemort's threat is at the lowest it's ever been since before he was born. Dumbledore is still alive, of course and only he and Harry know about the horcruxes, as well as Hermione and Ron, and they all want to continue to find and destroy them, but it isn't as much of a time issue as before. Lucius Malfoy and almost all of the other Death Eaters have pretty much given up trying to bring the Dark Lord back to power, and despite still raising Draco to hate muggleborns and blood traitors, Draco also knows how to make his own decisions. What his father doesn't know can't hurt him lol this will be a multi-chapter fic. Enjoy, friends.
The Secrets of Minds
Chapter One: All Hallow's Peeves
It had almost been two months into term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, nearing the All Hallow's Eve Ball, which everyone was just a little too excited about for Draco Malfoy's liking. He'd never been a fan of dressing up in ridiculously terrible or over-zealous costumes and parading around like an imbecile. This was the first time Hogwarts had decided to go through with a Halloween dance in many years, so it was a hot topic for students and teachers alike, not to mention, being as he was a Prefect again this year he'd had to endure many meetings and fulfill certain duties pertaining to the event, which left him highly irritated. Such mundane antics and foolery was not his cup of tea, to say the least, but he'd done what he'd been assigned and carried on with yawns of disinterest and subtle snorts of bemusement and disdain.
Here he was, two days before the ball, bored out of his wits in yet another meeting with the other Prefects and the Head Boy and Girl. He may or may not have been about falling asleep when Tracey Davis nudged him in the ribs, prompting his groggy eyes to open and he lazily took a piece of parchment she was handing him. It was getting rather late, and he still had to do the rounds with Davis afterwards. He'd also been up the better portion of the previous night finishing a foot and a half long Transfiguration essay that was due tomorrow, which would be Friday.
The last thing he needed was the Head Girl glaring bloody daggers at him in annoyance at his obvious inattention. She said nothing, which he was glad for, but he could tell there were hundreds of words piling up on the tip of her tongue. A sly smile curled its way across his lips. Making Hermione Granger frustrated was a success in his book. He seemed to do that a lot, and usually unintentionally, he might add. Although he frequently had impatience for her bitter petulance, there was something incredibly satisfying about being the proverbial thorn in her side.
Hermione's jaw tightened, biting the inside of her cheek and a tiny wrinkle creased in agitation above the front of an eyebrow as the silver-haired Slytherin smugly peered over at her and indolently rolled up the parchment she'd handed out without even looking at it. She'd spent all day, in between classes and during meals making copies of the rules and regulations the students were required to maintain during the ball and he had the gall to just roll it up. For the thousandth time in all her years of schooling at Hogwarts, she reminded herself that she shouldn't be so surprised every time the infamous Draco Malfoy ruffled her feathers or peeved her in the worst ways. Merlin, she wanted to throttle him sometimes. Somehow, he got to her in ways that made it really difficult to pretend not to care.
"So, don't forget to speak firmly, these rules are important, and make sure you answer any questions they may have. Set up a time for the students in your house to gather and read them over, but do it before the end of tomorrow night. We're done here, everyone have a great evening as you make your patrols and close up shop. Meeting dismissed." Anthony Goldstein, the Head Boy finished up his direct counsel for the evening. To be truthful, Hermione had sort of zoned out. Everyone started packing up to leave and the tall, blonde Ravenclaw turned towards her. "Hermione, got a minute?"
She faced him and blinked her eyes a few times, regaining her focus. "Uh, yes, what is it?" Anthony flashed a grin, showing off a set of pearly teeth. He was a mildly charming person, and handsome too, pleasing features, not to mention well-spoken and intelligent. He was Head Boy after all, and despite being a great catch, he didn't necessarily pique Hermione's interest as would be expected from anyone with a brain. Perhaps he didn't really excite her the way she liked, no one did exactly. Hermione liked obscenely witty, clever men who could keep up with her in conversation, and not many could, nor desired to. There was however, something a tad mysterious about Anthony, almost worry worth. Here or there, he would just look at you, with various specific expressions, before he'd reply or ask questions, and it had made things slightly awkward and uncomfortable before.
"I know its short notice, but if no one's asked you already I was hoping you might accompany me to the ball? No pressure or anything, just thought I'd put it out there since we're both heads." Anthony mentally crossed his fingers, a muggle quirk he'd learned, being he was a half-blood, and he'd had a crush on Hermione Granger since last year.
As Draco stood from his table he overheard the discussion ahead, and for a moment his stomach dropped and his knuckles turned ice-white around his bag when the Head Boy asked Granger to the dance. It wasn't that he had the hots for the Gryffindor, although he might admit she'd grown to be rather pretty, fit actually but there was something about Anthony Goldstein that he didn't like. He seemed a bit dubious, like he was always suspiciously making plans in that head of his, and he swore the guy could read minds. He got an inkling of a feeling that the smooth, calculating Ravenclaw was secretly a Legilimens, but Draco was smoother. He was an accomplished Occlumens, a natural, and practiced the art of Legilimency but that needed some improvement. Either way, if he was a Legilimens Draco would be able to idly and inconspicuously stand nearby to gain more insight into what type of person Goldstein really was. Why else did he suddenly get so angry though? He was confused by his own reaction. Why should he care if Granger goes with Goldstein to the stupid ball? It's not like they weren't both Heads and spent a lot of time together anyway. Also, Granger could protect herself.
And despite popular belief, Draco did care for the well-being of other people. He especially hated when women were maltreated, he just rarely boasted about it, but ask any of the Slytherin girls and they'd tell you how daring and chivalrous he was. He saved Pansy Parkinson one time in fifth year when she was being sexually harassed by Gregory Goyle in the common room when no one was around and another time he came to Daphne Greengrass' rescue when Marcus Flint tried to force himself on her in an abandoned, dungeon corridor. He'd pummeled both the pricks faces and told them if they ever tried a stunt like that again he'd personally hex them all the way to Azkaban. Neither of them ever quite made eye contact with him after that.
It was comical that the majority of the school assumed Draco wouldn't fight physically, or couldn't, if it came down to it. He'd had a reputation in the past of coming across as mostly a verbal bully, all talk no brawn, but he'd had the last few years to exercise and train himself and he'd gained much skill as a Seeker and Duelist because of it. He wasn't one to be messed with anymore. Underneath his robes, well-toned, bulky muscles rippled across his body and his agility and endurance was at an all-time high. His height had gradually escalated to a lean, even 6'4. Even Potter found him formidable, and his fellow female classmates finally started to notice.
Hermione tapped her chin in contemplation, trying not to look as surprised as she was by Anthony's proposal. To be truthful, she'd had a hunch he'd harbored some type of attraction for her, but he'd been very hard to read. There would be little signals he'd give off, like brushing his arm against hers or staring intently into her eyes, like he was deciphering every piece of her soul, but he always resumed to his own brand of stoicism. "Ah, well, I told Ginny I'd go with her," she stammered. It wasn't a lie. Ginny had wanted to go with Harry, of course but Harry was still at the "I'm not sure she likes me" stage since the red-head had just gotten out of a long-term relationship with Dean Thomas last week. Ginny had only just realized and confirmed to Hermione that she finally wanted to be with the boy-who-lived, and for him to pursue her, but it was too late because Harry had already asked Fay Dunbar to the ball. "It's my duty as a best friend, you see," Hermione continued. 'I would have enjoyed a chance to dance with you though.' She wished.
Draco tucked his wand in his robes, walked as slowly as possible without giving his intentions away and observed how Goldstein gazed into Granger's eyes like he was in a trance-like state. After a moment, Goldstein answered with nonchalance. "I see, and I admire your loyalty. Gotta support your lioness mates," he chuckled. "I would however, love it if I could steal you away for a dance at some point." Hermione couldn't help the slack in her expression as her mouth gaped open and her eyes widened, caught off guard from his uncanny ability to glimpse inside her mind. The corner of Anthony's lips tugged into a smirk. "No need to give me a reply now, Granger. Just come find me when you want to." When he turned away from Hermione he met the scowling stare of Draco as he passed them and he returned the frown. Anthony never did appreciate that sharp snake. The Malfoy heir had a keen eye, one that specialized in attention to detail, and whose hyper-focused cleverness gave Anthony a run for his galleons in the grade department. He prided himself on beating Malfoy on the exams, albeit by a scarce amount of points. The only class he knew Malfoy bettered him in was Potions, certainly.
Despite these things, Anthony didn't worry about Malfoy, but suddenly he realized he should have. When was the last time he'd tried to get a reading from the guy? He did now, putting in his best effort.
Hermione snapped her head over when she saw Anthony's quick change in countenance and her eyebrow arched upwards in curiosity. Why did Malfoy look like he was entirely displeased with the sight before him? Just a few moments ago he was as smug as a bug in a rug. Now he was giving Anthony a lethal glare. Malfoy exited the room and nobody said anything else as the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor used their wands to quietly tidy up the desks and pack their things.
Saturday afternoon rolled around and the All Hallow's Eve festivities began at six o'clock. Students and faculty bustled and chittered about, making last minute preparations and getting dressed. Hermione was in Gryffindor Tower up the set of stairs to her very own, private dorm. Ginevra had just barged in with all of the pieces to her costume and convinced the Head Girl to get herself ready. The youngest Weasley got all decked out in a floor length, Irish green gown with matching enchanted fairy wings in the shape of a four leafed clover. She played up her eyes with sparkly green shadow and mascara and her lips were a bright pink. She finished off the look with a long, straight hair style pushed off to one side. Lady Luck, she called herself.
Hermione got really creative this year. She decided upon an ethereal, Greek-inspired mid-thigh dress that was extremely form-flattering. It subtly cinched around her petite waist, flaring off playfully into a skirt that accentuated her long, toned legs. The neckline hung lowly in splays of white cloth, revealing the tops of her bosoms and the short sleeves fell loosely over her shoulders. The dark brown boots she picked reached the upper calves and she wore a brown hunter's belt that had a long, slender sword and her wand attached at the hip. Resting across her back was a bow quiver half way filled with accurate looking arrows with fletching feathers. She held a legitimate bow by her side. Hermione was never one to wear loads of makeup, but for this event she spread a taupe-y color over her lids, mascara, clear gloss on her lips and she used a technique with a silver shimmer highlighter to give her skin a warm and appealing glow. She also added shining, silver leaf-shaped jewels to the sides of her eyes, a rose-gold leaf bracelet tight around her bicep, and a rose-gold olive leaf crown. Hermione kept her soft, thick, wavy tendrils down which had grown so much the ends hit her lower back. This time she wanted to go as her favorite Greek deity, Artemis the Goddess of hunting, archery, forests and the moon.
The girls deemed themselves ready, and by that time it was nearing six o'clock so they made their way downstairs to the Great Hall. Once at the entrance they amicably linked arms and looked around for Ron, Harry, or anyone really. They wanted to mingle, and many faces were focused in their direction.
Draco stood by the punch table, sipping his goblet full of sparkling, spiked juice as his eyes perused the large crowd. He didn't go too all out with his costume this year, but he thought it was safe to say he looked damn good. He'd dubbed himself the Prince of Darkness, and wore all black. His upper body was displayed irresistibly in a vest that had blood red buttons fastening the deep v-line front. Underneath was a long-sleeved mid-century type blouse that ruffled around the neck and wrists. He had on a long, tourmaline chain with a pagan cross-shaped pendant and you could see the soft patches of the silvery-blonde hairs on his chest. A temporary-tattoo spell that said "Prince of Darkness" in fancy, old calligraphy was etched into his collarbone. His lower body sported a pair of well-fitting leather pants and dark, masculine boots. Draco even went as far as charming his own hair to look like it grew an inch overnight. He'd undone and redone the charm multiple times before he finally decided he liked how the bit of strands in front of his ears framed his chiseled jaw, as well as how he could run his hand through the top and feel it down his neck.
Ron Weasley sashayed up to the punch table with Lavender Brown. He was dressed in a rich brown furry wolf suit, with matching fuzzy wolf-like mask. He had a nice long tail, and Draco might say Weaslebee actually pulled off the costume, but obviously never out-loud. Gryffindor's Giggle Monster wore a short, white and red, Dutch-maiden dress, with a red hooded cape and carried a basket at her arm. Giggle's did what she did best and her effervescent, bubbly laugh hit just that part of Draco's eardrum that made his brain want to explode. Weasel poured them both punch and they were seen clanking their chalices together and chorusing a "Cheer's".
"'Hullo, Weasley, Brown," Draco drawled, attempting to get a good chastise in before they walked away. "What are you two supposed to be exactly, I wonder, a well-behaved pup and his master?" It was no secret that the Weasel was basically whipped by his female counterpart, doing almost whatever she said. They'd been dating since the end of last year but Draco didn't think Weasley would put up with it for much longer, if he knew what was good for him. Didn't he want people to know he had a brain in there, however small it might be?
Ron's face reddened at the embarrassing comment. "Shove off, Malfoy," one of Weasley's most favorite retorts. "What are you supposed to be anyway? You can barely even tell if that's a costume or not, ferret."
"Ohh, my apologies, I forgot you don't know how to read. Right here, dog," he pointed his finger up to the inked mark on his chest. "It says, the 'Prince of Darkness'. I'm the destroyer of worlds, you incompetent beast." His voice was dripping with mirthful venom, always fully amused from humiliating the red-head.
Lavender pulled on Ron's sleeve, wanting to get him away from what could become potentially worse. Ron fumed but chose to be the bigger person and leave the situation instead. "Well, you look hideous." He spewed before they started walking. Draco was almost insulted, almost, but when he saw how Lavender snuck a second glance at him and blush as they breezed away he smirked at the irony of it. It was devastatingly unlikely that he didn't look sexy and mysterious as hell right now.
Just then most of the crowd in the Great Hall hushed, turned their heads and murmured to each other about something he couldn't see from back at the punch bar. He weaved around a few heads before he saw her.
Hermione was breathtaking in a stunning, Goddess-like white dress and charming brown boots with real-looking bow and arrows. She fashioned herself as a heavenly huntress. Her lengthy tendrils were the most beautiful shades of tawny-almond, something around her eyes glimmered, and it was as if she actually glowed, gliding with poise towards the area where he was standing. Inside, a part of him wanted to fade away into the backdrop. Everyone was looking at her and he didn't want to seem like he too had fallen prey to her predatory good looks.
As she went deeper into the sea of students and got closer to him, her amber eyes suddenly locked with his piercing grey ones. He habitually sneered, an expression he had no doubt long ago become an expert of, but Hermione wasn't completely fooled by this particular version of sneer, because of how he visibly gulped, and looking right into her being were his silvery eyes, glinting with desire. She also couldn't help staring, drinking up his lavish, all black appearance, and she definitely couldn't deny the way he looked made the hot coals in her abdomen smolder with a need she'd always repressed around him.
Minutes later, Hermione and Ginevra were complimenting Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnegan on their costumes. Neville was a well-done Mummy. His cloths were a mixture of eggshell and beige. They were wrapped perfectly up and around him with loose ones strategically draping down here and there, ending with a good amount bandaging over his head. The once awkward boy now had exquisite posture, more confident in his looks and abilities, and people, mostly the females were taking great consideration of this new feat. The girls that knew him had often gabbed about how interesting it was that Neville turned out to be quite the adorable, low-key hunk. He was very tall, and had a lean, well-built body from exercising during the summers at home, and during the warm days throughout the school year because he liked to train outside. It was also very attractive that he had a knack and a passion for Herbology. He was very knowledgeable in that subject and could probably one day be a world-class Healer and save lives.
When it came to Seamus, the young witches long ago agreed that the Irish-man was pleasing to look at. His sandy hair and crystal blue eyes were appealing, and his accent was sexy. He'd already canoodled with and snogged a couple girls, Lavender Brown and Fay Dunbar from Gryffindor, and a Ravenclaw named Nanette Desford, to name a few. Rumor had it he was dating the latter, for she was a fellow native to Ireland too, which made sense. Seamus was guised as the muggle-book character, Waldo, from the children's search and find books, "Where's Waldo?" Hermione knew the reference. On top of his head was a white beanie hat with red trim and red poufy ball. He had on a white and red striped jumper, which made his arm muscles look good, and blue jeans with white sneakers. He also wore a pair of big round black-framed glasses.
"You two look smashing," said Ginny.
"Yes, you do." reiterated Hermione.
"Ya don't look too bad ya-selves, Lassies," Seamus told them. "Ya got me goin' glad eyes fer ya both, 'specially you Ginny, bein' a four-leaf clover and all."
The girls giggled and Ginny patted his bicep, smiling. "Thank you, Seamus. You know I totally dressed as Lady Luck just for you." She said sarcastically and took a sip of her punch.
"Oy, don't tease me like that. I'll believe ya, yeh know."
"What type of huntress are you supposed to be, Hermione?" asked Neville. "That looks like a Greek inspired outfit."
"That's correct, Neville," the book-worm replied. "I'm the Goddess Artemis, to be exact, or Diana, if we're talking Roman, here. She was the Goddess of archery and the moon, among other things."
"Fascinating," he exclaimed. "It really suits you, actually."
"Why, thank you, Neville." Hermione's cheeks were pink.
Harry Potter approached the group with Fay Dunbar and Luna Lovegood. Harry, always the comedian, was decked out as a big puffy Jack O' Lantern with green stem hat for added effect. The face of the pumpkin had a mischievous expression with sharp teeth. Fay took on the role of the meaning behind her name, a fairy. She had on a lilac purple-blue dress and wings, which both glittered and ballet shoes that tied around her ankles. Her chestnut hair was pulled into a curly up-do with light purple ribbons. Luna Lovegood was dressed as a gypsy. She left her oh-so-long blonde locks down, but tied a dark blue bandana over her head and her white dress was layered with a matching dark blue cloth around her hips with jingling bells and a navy, satin corset.
"Hello, everyone," Luna said, exuding her usual dreamy countenance, and everyone greeted each other, chatting about their costumes, twirling around and making jokes.
Fay turned to address Hermione and Neville, seeing as her and Neville were the Gryffindor Prefects. "Didn't this turn out perfectly? Everyone looks great!"
"I couldn't agree more, Fay," Neville proclaimed. "What do you think Head Girl? Did you achieve the perfect All Hallow's Eve Ball?"
"It wasn't just me, Neville," Hermione retorted. "And of course it's perfect, you've all done a very fine job and rather effortlessly actually, I'm swelling with pride." Fay and Neville smiled at her response, it was like she was their big sister or something. A hot, brainy attractive big sister, Neville might woefully think but he knew he wouldn't stand a chance. Neville was under the impression Hermione was way out of his league.
"Thanks, Mum," Fay joked elbowing her in the ribs affectionately and Hermione's lips twitched into a small smirk.
"That's right, Mum of her lion cubs, you knew that." The Head Girl said.
Neville's smile faltered, only slightly and no one noticed, thank the Gods. He was definitely in the friend-zone.
Harry came up to Hermione with his arms outstretched and then put one over her shoulder. "Happy Halloween, Hermione. Is it everything you wanted it to be?" he said in a silly-like theatrical manner. She grinned and couldn't hold back a light giggle.
"Well, Harry I don't know that yet," she said in an equally silly, matter-of-fact tone and he laughed, straightening his spectacles. "Perfect or not," she continued normally, "I'd still need to fill up my chalice with more of that punch, which is spiked, by the way, and I'd like you to tell me if you have any ideas on who did it."
"Not in the slightest," he said truthfully. "But I may be able to find out."
"Excellent, now I'm going to go get some more. Is your chalice full, Harry?" He peered down in his cup and then back up at Hermione with a grin.
"Yes, it is."
"Okay, be back shortly," she said and headed to the punch bar. After filling her goblet and taking a sip of it she felt eyes penetrating her and she looked around for the culprit. There he was, leaning against the wall in the dark, a fair distance away, and acting like he wasn't just staring her down. Hermione briefly thought of completely ignoring him but thought again, and decided she wanted to see where some playful banter would take her.
When it was clear she was walking over towards him, Draco started to inwardly panic. 'What in Slytherin's name is she coming over here for?' His pulse quickened, thudding loudly in his ears, but he kept a cool exterior. 'It's fine, it's only Granger. You know, the boorish, bossy, big-haired, ugly, prude little girl from first year. Yes, that's right, Draco. Keep telling yourself that.'
"Malfoy," she spoke with impudence.
"Granger," he greeted gruffly, nodding his head. Hermione just stared up at him, getting a good look at his physique before she zeroed in on his charmed tattoo and read it.
"Ah, the Prince of Darkness, you say? How fitting," she said, lacking the usual amount of enthusiasm in her sass. He looked damn good, like a snack, and that just wasn't fair. She wanted to play with the bit of white-blonde hair on his sleek chest and lick a line from his neck to his jaw and… 'Hold it right there, Hermione.'
Draco snorted from her attempt at an insult. "That's correct, Goddess," he said the words teasingly which made her unconsciously bite her lip. "It's the one and only Big Bad. Does it scare you?"
Hermione cackled mirthfully. "Not in the slightest, did you want it to? Oh, that's too bad. I'm a deity, from the Heaven's, purest of light and sent to this realm to defeat the monsters of darkness, such as yourself, Malfoy." She smirked, speaking with a protective, hero-like voice. She took a big gulp of her chalice. "Was it you who spiked the punch? Come now, fess up."
He liked that she was able to play around with him, but he got anxious from feeling how cordial they were being. "Well, look at you, Granger," he said slowly, drawling out the words. "You blasted in from another planet on your self-righteous high-horse, not an uncommon thing to witness." His words were waspish, and he saw Hermione furrow her brows and frown, but he knew she could take it. Her freckled face and neck grew warm with sudden frustration. Draco noticed and enjoyed how alluring her tanned skin looked. He took a step, languidly leaning in and muttered close enough she could breathe in the musky wood and spice that was his scent, "And if I catch you alone, I have reason to know it would actually be me who would defeat you."
Hermione moved her body away from him feeling vulnerable but kept her chin up in protest and crossed her arms. What in Godric's name did he mean by that? "That's hilarious, Malfoy. Try that, and I'll hex you into next year. Corner me and I'll smack you in the face like that one time, remember that?" she said, raising an eyebrow and showcasing her straight rows of ivory white teeth.
She was pretending to be ignorant to how his towering frame was agile, and strong, ignorant of the muscles that grew significantly since third year. She knew that he could most definitely subdue her in a physical fight, right? He stared at her, expressionless, trying his damn hardest not to return the smile. Draco wanted to provoke more of a reaction from her.
"No, I don't remember that," he faked with a hint of sarcasm. "You think you actually got a hit on me? Doubt that, missy. You must have dreamt it up in that over-imaginative head of yours." He knew how to press the right buttons, all right.
"Oh please, you know you remember it. You can't fool me," she seethed, crinkling her cute little nose. Hermione pouted, wanting to flee her mission, but then her quick wit kicked in. "What then, did the memory of it haunt you so terribly that you got night terrors and had to Obliviate yourself?" Draco's eyes glowered at her, knowing he'd been bested in his joke.
"Good show, Granger, but you shouldn't ignore my warning," he said, leaning in again so if anyone passed by them only she would hear. "Because you're surrounded by your friends and classmates and right now, in your little costume, you feel strong and powerful," his lips were right next to her ear, and he brought some strands of her curls up to his nose and shamelessly inhaled her soft, feminine scent. She smelled sweet, like black cherries and vanilla cake. "But if you face me in the dark, with no one there to protect you, then we'll find out for certain just how well you can manage." Hermione's knees almost gave out as she trembled with fear-mingled desire. He let go of her and stepped away, pretending as if nothing happened.
Gods, she loathed him. Was he actually saying he'd attempt to rough her up in seclusion? She shut her eyes. "You are always such a damned snake, dastardly, disgustingly devilish and vile." This time he laughed.
"Thank you, sweeting, that's exactly what I was going for."
She snorted in disdain but it was only to timidly hide the disbelief... sweeting? What was Malfoy playing at? What was he doing, getting so uncomfortably close to her, sniffing her curls, calling her "sweeting", which was an affectionate word for the sweet nectar of a fruit, and how did he know how to make her feel this way? At first it sounded like he was threatening her with violence, but was it possible that Draco was openly signaling her with gestures and innuendoes that revealed a secret sexual encounter Hermione couldn't refuse? As much as that poked at the front of her curiosity, she had to end this and abandon ship. "Well, if you've had your fun then, I'm quite finished with this conversation. Enjoy the rest of your evening, snake. You helped bring it together, after all." The Head Girl went for being quick and to the point, as well as professional. Then, wide-eyed like a baby fawn caught in headlights, she bashfully whisked away into the area of the Great Hall that was better lit.
It was a few hours later, and Hermione lived up to the favor she was asked of by Anthony Goldstein, and they were moving together in tandem on the dance-floor. Hermione had to admit, the ball she helped plan was a success and she was having tons of fun. It seemed like everyone else was too. From her peripherals she saw Harry to the left, drunkenly twirling Ginny and they looked very happy. Hermione briefly wondered where Fay must have gone and saw at a distance she was cutely prancing to and fro with Neville. She had to strain to see, there were so many people, and the big dining hall was layered in a dense smoke of thick fog. It had darkened immensely, only illuminated by a plethora of floating, black and gold candles. The night sky, enchanted to be moonless, twinkled only with far away stars and planets.
Anthony grabbed Hermione's hip and moved her around so her back was against his stomach. The fair-haired Ravenclaw wore a Victorian-era suit with a light blue and marigold yellow patterned waist-coat, light grey slacks and matching blazer with coattails. Pulling the whole ensemble together were the oval, brown-rimmed glasses that brought out the blue in his hazel irises. Hermione thought him to be quite dashing, but occasionally something tugged her focus to the sexy look of a certain Slytherin, who was in the crowd a ways back. She caught him throwing eyes at her as he danced with Slytherin's Favorite Bint, and felt the innate, petty need to make him jealous.
Draco dipped Pansy, who was a seductive bunny rabbit, which was a tad cliché', if you asked him. She did look pretty and all, clad in white tights, a pale pink body suit, long ears and a poufy fluff of a tail, but he just couldn't take his eyes off of Hermione. He observed the way Goldstein's sneaky hands wriggled down Granger's lithe body and linger, just there, at the end of her skirt, hiking it up and exposing more of her golden, honey-kissed thighs. In a twisted sense he was grateful for the view, but it made anger gut-roast his insides in ways that he never knew existed. It was he, Draco who should be in his place.
Anthony felt the smooth skin of Hermione's legs as her bum moved back and forth, dangerously swaying into his nether regions, and he had to abstain from his natural need to want to touch more of her. He focused in on the Head Girl's thoughts with Legilimency, a gift he'd had since before he'd gotten his first Hogwarts letter. He grasped that she wasn't totally opposed to his advances, so he slid his hands stealthily back toward her hips and his fingers flirted lowly on her pelvis as he swiveled behind her to the beat.
He chanced a glance at Draco Malfoy. A part of him wanted to outwardly grin when he saw Parkinson angrily stalk away from her ex-lover. Publically, their relationship was over, anyway. 'I unintentionally overheard from the rumor mill that those two were still fucking but who knows now because obviously he's staring at my Goddess,' he thought begrudgingly, realizing that Slytherin's Blonde Prince had been openly eye-ogling Hermione and Pansy noticed. It brought the Head Boy back to a couple nights ago when he finished up the Prefects meeting and he'd gotten the courage to ask Granger out. Shame, she had to come with a girlfriend.
Distinctly sticking out to him though, was the odd moment when he was blind-sided by Malfoy's daunting eyes, challenging him with his intimidating, inky-black soul as he slowly swaggered out of the classroom. That was what made Anthony realize he never cared enough to delve into Draco's mind very often, which was proving to be a grave mistake.
He'd only done that once or twice before and it was years ago, deciding afterwards that other people were far more fascinating. That remained consistent until after that meeting when Malfoy's emotionless scowl left absolutely nothing to be revealed except for an immensely protected mind under a strict lock and key. Following that incident, a thought reacquainted itself in Anthony that Malfoy had been bred to be a Death Eater. It was staring him in the face this whole time, and if it weren't for his disinterest in the slimy git at a younger age then he might have been able to learn some secrets, and deep secrets they must have been indeed.
It was assumed that being raised by a Death Eater to eventually bring back the late Voldemort would have required being taught special defense skills such as Occlumency, which Anthony was positive, was the reason Draco could block out his brain waves. He had learned to literally build a wall around himself, and a strong wall it was, better than his own. 'Well, fuck.' Anthony mentally cursed. Now Malfoy was giving him that same look again. A thick, impenetrable aura surrounded him that left the Ravenclaw mystified with the hallow nothingness that was Draco Malfoy's mind. Anthony wasn't ready to find out what would happen if he didn't stop standing so close to and groping Gryffindor's Princess. The Slytherin looked venomous, ready to murder him so he needed to back out of the picture for the time being and quickly think up a scheme.
Thankful to all parties involved, the song ended and a slow, edgy romantic tune thrummed through the Great Hall. It could be surmised that the ball would be ending shortly, and the room became even darker, almost pitch-black. Only a dozen or two candles remained lit, dimming the area and sending firelight warm radiance over their faces. Anthony took Hermione's hand and pecked it. "It was a great pleasure dancing with you, Goddess, but regrettably I must take my leave." Hermione gave a small smile and the Head Boy left her in the middle of the dance floor.
In a wondrously magical way, the candlelight hit at just the right placement and the Slytherin Prefect and Gryffindor Head Girl met eyes. Without any coherent contemplation they went towards each other through an ocean of mist and people, like a magnets unwavering pull. "Malfoy," she greeted, nervous and unable to diligently hide the fact she was excited. His eyes roamed over her body as he stopped mere inches away. He wasn't completely sure what was coming over him tonight with this girl. It was a number of things, if he were being truthful... the music and mood lighting in the Great Hall, the way her hair and eyes looked tonight, how her dress cinched at the waist and accentuated her wide and womanly hips, the confident, graceful way in which she'd learn to carry herself recently... the insane jealousy he felt tonight at Goldstein and how his inner alpha animal was crying out to take what he really wanted...
"Well, well, looks like the huntress has fallen into my trap, like a butterfly in a spider's web." He whispered, but before she could say anything he curled a long lock of her hair around his finger and leaned down to her ear. "Dance with me, yeah?" His nose nuzzled into her hair. "Mmm... it's now or never." he purred.
Gooseflesh shivered its way over her when she felt the hum of his warm breath puffing against the shell of her ear and neck. With his body so close to hers the twinge of desire and want emblazoned her. Hermione lifted her hand and grazed the tips of her digits over the bare skin on his chest which was hot and slightly sticky from perspiration. It reminded her of other ways such a delectable countenance could be obtained. Draco pulled her in closer and held her to him, gripping her waist as they began to sway with the music. It was so dark in there, and he honestly didn't care anymore if anyone could see them. All he focused on was how every part of her essence flooded and saturated his senses.
Hermione braced herself against him. In the last six or so years she had never once thought she'd ever be in this proximity with the black-hearted Slytherin. Touching him, and to be in this embrace, was unthinkable. 'Is this really happening?' She wasn't sure if she could even look up at him. Gods, he was so tall. When did he get so tall?
One of his forearms trailed over her and took her palm in his. They both glanced over at their hands, at what they made. Together, his long pale fingers spread hers out and it revealed how massive they were compared to her small stature. It was the most intimate moment they'd ever shared, and the revelation gave them both a flutter of nerves in their bellies.
The Slytherin snake couldn't help but gaze down at the tantalizingly generous view of her breasts. How buttery soft they looked. He imagined what they'd feel like in his hands. Hermione looked up at him with half-lidded, doe eyes and her mouth… she looked good enough to kiss. Salazar be damned, if he didn't want to. His fingers laced with hers on their own accord. They were completely pressed together, his lips nearer and nearer to the beginning of the end, or perhaps the end of the beginning?
The slow song began to fade out and Draco had to refrain from his previous instinct. Hermione's whole body shuddered as his face turned down to her, her cheeks flushing more if possible. Then he delicately skimmed his pillowy smooth lips across the corner of her mouth, and her world flipped inside out. She felt as if she'd been thrown into a Stunning Spell. Malfoy fled the steamy scene they'd shared in secret and when the room got brighter he was nowhere in sight, leaving her wonder if it truly happened at all.
Anthony Goldstein was livid, tearing off his now, broken glasses. It was not often he felt stark-raving mad, but on the rare cases he did he'd advise others not to get in his way. As it were, he was on his way up to Ravenclaw Tower, done with the night, when he suddenly tripped over something invisible and fell flat on his face, skidding forward. The long, ancient rug-covered floor left wide, vertical burns on his cheek and forehead. He'd glared furiously down at what had caused him to eat the rug, only to see nothing there at first. Then, of course, the castle's poltergeist, Peeve's, became visible and evilly chortled with murky laughter that reverberated throughout the walls and lurked around every facet of the school, leaving you with paranoia in the night.
The menacing disturbance that was Peeve's snickered away down towards the steps to the lower floor, and Anthony was thankful. 'That lame devil and his obnoxious, unfunny pranks.' But what pissed him off the most, was that he was worried Draco Malfoy would find out that he could read and bend minds, his most hidden secret, if the elitist prat didn't know already. He needed to let off some steam, so he went up to his private quarters to take a hot, relaxing shower. What a terrible evening. Yes, the ball went without a hitch, but he'd had to postpone his pursuit of Hermione Granger. The Slimy Snake of Hogwarts seemed to have a problem with it. Anthony wasn't sure if he should go forth with his plans to try dating the Head Girl, or quietly surrender.
He would not be a coward. There had to be a way to win Hermione's affections, couldn't there? He'd read her mind before and knew she found him to be fetching and smart, but she'd also thought him not exactly her type. Anthony could understand that, but he was hoping he would be able to sway her. Malfoy must have figured out what he was up to, didn't like it, and now the git had it out for him, but why? He never got the impression from Granger that she remotely cared for Malfoy, in fact, it seemed like she despised him, so why on earth did the Slytherin feel a sense of responsibility for her? Did he want to come to her rescue because she was the Head Girl? That would be like a duty to a Queen in the literal sense, and that didn't strike Anthony as very, "Malfoy-like".
This silly thought amused him greatly as he soaped up his aching body inside the shower. Then, another worry wedged itself into his brain. What if the idiot had actually gotten feelings for her? What if Malfoy loved her? Inside the Ravenclaw, a meek, pessimistic voice said that if he did then it would be quite the obstacle to overcome. That dragon was a sneaky snake in the grass, he might not give up a fight, and the Head Boy knew it wouldn't be easy. He had to stay alert, and be more wary of his own actions. The scent of war was crisp in the air.
AN: There is the first chapter. I got great enjoyment from writing it so if you liked it please favorite and leave a review. Thank you loves, more to come soon :)